Mo Ran was caught flat-footed; he hadn't expected Chu Wanning
to come swinging at him and narrowly dodged the tip of the sword as it
brushed past his chest. "If Shizun wants to spar with me, at least try on the
clothes first. Uncle is still waiting to hear back."
"Spar first, clothes after."
"This is kinda urgent; the tailor is waiting to make adjustments if
anything doesn't fit."
"Come at me, then."
Mo Ran was rendered speechless. This was a quality Chu Wanning
shared with Xue Meng—once they became competitive, it was hard to talk
them down. In the course of this short exchange, Chu Wanning's longsword
had already struck at Mo Ran's vital points several times. Mo Ran only
managed to emerge unscathed by virtue of his extensive training; had he
been a second slower, he might have been wounded, and his clothes would
have been ruined either way.
The sword came down on Mo Ran's shoulder, but Chu Wanning
managed to hold back and merely struck him with the flat of the blade. He
sneered in cold challenge, "Mo-zongshi, is that the best you've got?"
Cornered like this, unable to so much as put aside the clothes in his
arms, Mo Ran smiled ruefully. "Shizun's done going easy on me and wants
to bully me instead?"
Chu Wanning's gaze was sharp as the blade, and his swordlike brows
drew together slightly. "Did you think I would go easy on you forever?"
"Ha ha, that's true."
"Well, are we doing this or not?"
"Okay, okay, let's spar, let's spar." Smiling, Mo Ran shook his head.
A light flared at the tip of his finger. "Jiangui, come!"
Jiangui answered the call, but since Chu Wanning was wielding an
ordinary blade, Mo Ran didn't inject any spiritual energy. His hand had
barely closed around the willow vine when the sword thrust toward him
again. Mo Ran jumped a few steps backward and flicked the willow whip,
which wrapped around the hilt of Chu Wanning's sword.
Unfazed, Chu Wanning effortlessly tugged the hilt free with a twist of
his wrist. He darted behind Mo Ran, devilishly fast, and held his blade to
Mo Ran's throat. Pressed against Mo Ran's back, he said somewhat
gloomily, "You weren't concentrating. Again."
Chu Wanning's breath brushed soft and warm against Mo Ran's ear,
sending heat surging through him. His throat bobbed beneath the sword's
edge as he chuckled and said, voice low, "Shizun, don't be so quick to
judge. Look closer and see for yourself if I was concentrating or not."
At this, Chu Wanning realized with a shock that Mo Ran's willow
vine had somehow wrapped itself around his arm, firmly restraining him.
He was unable to move an inch.
Chu Wanning eyed his arm for a long moment. His eyes lit with a
keen flash. "Mn? Not bad, I take it back."
Mo Ran grinned. "No takebacks."
"What do you want then?"
"I want Shizun to try on the clothes."
Chu Wanning hmphed. "Let's see who wins first."
As he spoke, he channeled a powerful jolt of spiritual energy through
his right arm, throwing Jiangui off. He leapt back, putting distance between
himself and Mo Ran as his sword flashed through the air toward its target.
Mo Ran had no choice but to raise his whip to meet the attack. The willow
vine and sword clashed in the air. Neither weapon was infused with spiritual
energy, so there was none of the usual spectacle of fiery sparks.
Nevertheless, every blow was immensely skilled, fluid and precise. One of
Mo Ran's arms was still occupied with the clothes meant for Chu Wanning,
so Chu Wanning limited himself to using his right hand to spar.
In the blink of an eye, the two exchanged a hundred-odd blows and
fought to a stalemate, surprisingly evenly matched. Chu Wanning's breath
came fast and heavy, and a hot line of sweat ran down his sharp, night-black
brows, snaking straight toward his eye. Fixated on his match with Mo Ran,
he couldn't spare it attention—that droplet of sweat fell past his lashes and
straight into his eye. He endured it without blinking, his eyes lit with a
terrifying brightness, blazing in the night sky. The Beidou Immortal's
combative nature had been thoroughly stirred by his own disciple. He'd
always enjoyed the heat of competition, a good, hearty fight. His usual
coldness and aloofness in battle were only because he rarely met a good
match. But Mo Ran was like a torch, igniting the pool of heady liquor that
was Chu Wanning into a roaring blaze, setting the skies alight.
As the fight progressed, the longsword, unable to withstand the force
of their strikes, creaked ominously. Finally, as they clashed in midair once
more, it gave one last keen and shattered into countless glittering fragments
between the two great zongshi.
"Even the sword is broken now," Mo Ran said helplessly. "Do you
still want to keep going?"
Chu Wanning tossed the hilt aside, eyes ablaze with the rush of battle.
The collar of his white robes hung loose, drawing the eye to his tall, slim
form. He replied simply: "Yes."
Before the stunned Mo Ran could recall Jiangui, Chu Wanning was
lunging at him. He sprang forth like an arrow released from a fully drawn
crossbow, like a cheetah in the wild, like a falcon in the snow. Mo Ran
scrambled to dismiss Jiangui, then raised his arms to block as the two
changed tactics and moved into close, vigorous combat.
Hand-to-hand combat was different from sparring with weapons; the
one with the larger build had the easy advantage. Chu Wanning and Mo Ran
were evenly matched in skill, but Chu Wanning was at a clear disadvantage
this time around. Mo Ran grinned. "Shizun, let's stop here. Without using
spiritual powers, honestly, you don't stand a chance."
Chu Wanning snapped in fury, "How dare you! Insolent disciple!"
"Okay, okay. How about this—since Shizun's mad, I'll let Shizun
make the first ten moves."
"Mo Weiyu!" Enraged by this humiliation, Chu Wanning's punches
and kicks became faster and more vicious.
Haitang petals swirled around them like a flurry of snowflakes. There
under the tree, master and disciple exchanged relentless blows with all their
strength. After another eighty exchanges, Chu Wanning found himself
flagging. He'd been practicing with the sword for about an hour before
Mo Ran's arrival, then they'd traded over a hundred blows with their
weapons. He really was beginning to tire. Yet his eyes were bright, and his
heart was racing. His handsome face was aglow with vitality.
The longer they fought, the more entangled they became, locked ever
tighter in their struggle for dominance. Chu Wanning twisted sharply, elbow
jabbing straight for Mo Ran's ribs, only to find his arm caught in Mo Ran's
grasp. They strained against each other, their arms shaking with exertion…
Chu Wanning's arms were held fast in Mo Ran's grip, the strength in
those long, calloused fingers threatening to crush him down, break his
bones. Mo Ran's primal thirst to dominate stirred at their close-contact
tussle. With a burst of strength, he finally overpowered Chu Wanning, and
then suddenly, with a twist of his arm—
Chu Wanning jerked in shock, but before he knew it, he was firmly
restrained in Mo Ran's sweat-damp embrace.
"Still want to keep going?"
The voice coming from behind him clearly carried a smile. Chu
Wanning, heart thumping, could feel Mo Ran's broad chest flush against his
back. That chest was like fire, searing hot and as firm as iron. It was like
molten lava, threatening to engulf him whole and melt him down. Mo Ran's
lips were pressed to the back of Chu Wanning's ear, and his hot breath
puffed over the bare skin of Chu Wanning's nape. With his hair up, there
was nothing to shield Chu Wanning from the sensation—from that
intimidating, predatory breath, that masculine breath that threatened to tear
him apart. Within their hot, dripping sweat, in their physicality, there was
the stickiness of limbs entangled, wet as lust…
"Shizun, still wanna keep going?"
Chu Wanning didn't answer. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, and
the corners of his phoenix eyes began to redden. Fuck, no way was he going
to yield!
Just as he was about to wrestle free, Mo Ran's lips moved, brushing
across his earlobe in seeming coincidence. Chu Wanning's hair stood on
end at the hot, rough sensation, skin prickling into goosebumps, and he
ground out through clenched teeth, "Let go!"
Despite his sharp words, his body trembled, softly and uncontrollably,
in Mo Ran's arms. How lucky that Mo Ran was tired from all the exertion
and couldn't tell why he was shaking. The truth was, Mo Ran was barely
keeping himself in check and had no capacity to notice aught amiss with
Chu Wanning.
Chu Wanning heard Mo Ran tease in a low, husky voice, in tones one
would hear in the thick of desire, "If I let go, will Shizun finally go
change?"
His phoenix eyes reddened at this provocation. He said sharply, "Let
go!"
But his attempt to break away only made Mo Ran tighten his grip, so
rough and assertive that Chu Wanning's arm was nearly dislocated. His
body went pliant and, despite himself, he let out a hoarse, muted groan.
The sound was too like a moan of the erotic variety. Mo Ran froze, his
lower body immediately answering its call. Their bodies were still pressed
closely together and, petrified that his shizun would notice the hot and hard
arousal pushing against him, Mo Ran instinctively shoved Chu Wanning
away, no longer daring to restrain him as he had.
The moment Mo Ran let go, a blindingly furious Chu Wanning spun
around, clutching his aching arm, and delivered a vicious roundhouse kick
with all his might.
Caught completely off guard, Mo Ran was sent sprawling. He hadn't
at all anticipated such a kick and lay on the ground in a daze. His ribs, he
thought, were surely broken, and his brows were knit in pain. "Shizun,
that's…"
Not playing fair. But he didn't dare finish the thought, only straining
to squint up at Chu Wanning through watery eyes.
He beheld his shizun, robes in utter disarray. The white silk of Chu
Wanning's inner robes had been pulled open in their violent tussle,
revealing a wide swath of chest, firm and smooth, rising and falling rapidly
with his panting. Chu Wanning yanked closed the lapels of his robes as he
struggled to catch his breath. Loose locks of hair framed his forehead and
temples, and the corners of his eyes were yet tinged red from the exertion of
their match.
Chu Wanning slowly straightened, then gave Mo Ran an appraising
look from on high. He lifted his chin slightly, and his gaze burned,
imposing and proud. He inhaled deeply and said, "What does it matter if
you're taller; you still lost."
Mo Ran was caught between laughter and tears. When he spoke,
blood bubbled at the corners of his mouth. "You don't say? I think my
bones are broken."
Chu Wanning fell into a guilty silence. He'd been so absorbed in the
fight that he didn't know if he'd held back with that last kick. He bent to
prod at Mo Ran's ribs, asking, "Where did I kick you?"
"Here…"
"Does it hurt?"
Mo Ran looked up helplessly. Of course it hurt! But he was no longer
a teenager, and was definitely not about to cry about a boo-boo to his
shizun.
When he saw Mo Ran's pale face, Chu Wanning reached out to take
the pile of clothes from him with one hand and extended the other to pull
him up. He didn't realize how much their sparring had taken out of him—
and Mo Ran was tall and strapping to boot. Not only did he fail in his
attempt to pull Mo Ran to his feet, he lost his balance and fell right on top of
Mo Ran. At the pained groan of the man beneath him, Chu Wanning
scrambled upright and began checking him over without thinking. "Are you
all right?" he asked, face stricken.
Mo Ran had one arm thrown over his eyes, and his brows were
drawn. "Can you get off me first?"
Oh good, he can still talk. Looks like I didn't crush him to death.
He tried to rise. But once a person exhausted their strength, it wasn't
easy to get back up after a fall. His legs wobbled, and he ended up
collapsing again. It was a sorry state of affairs.
Alas, this time he tumbled directly onto Mo Ran's hips. He noticed
nothing untoward at first. But Chu Wanning was currently wearing very
little—no more than one thin, silken layer—and this position was rather
awkward. The instant he moved, he felt something hard and huge and at the
ready beneath him.