After a century of exploitation, this was the first time Ning Chen had been thanked for… such services.
He didn't know how to respond. Any reply felt absurd.
So he defaulted to icy detachment. "Leave. Now that you're done."
Post-climactic apathy rendered him immune to her allure.
Nan Gongling's guilt swelled. His disheveled hair and aloof expression accused her. He must despise me, she thought, recalling her earlier roughness. Master had warned her—sealed and mortal-frail, he required gentleness. Yet she'd let desperation override reason.
The Heartless Sword Heart corrupted me, she lied to herself, ignoring how he'd later seized control.
With a thud that echoed through the chamber, she knelt bare-kneed on stone, her body trembling. "Senior Brother, I overstepped. Punish me as you will." She closed her eyes, surrendering.
Ning Chen nearly snorted. Apology or invitation?
"Your 'punishment' would cost me," he said flatly. "Leave. I won't repeat myself."
Disappointment flickered across her face. "May I… return?"
Once, she'd scorned dual cultivation as heretical. Now, having tasted its raptures, she understood Liu Ruyan's obsession. His Yang essence healed, enhanced, transformed. What might his unleashed potential achieve?
"You'll come when she allows," Ning Chen retorted, bitter as a brothel courtesan awaiting patrons.
"Ah… right." Nan Gongling blushed, realizing her nudity. Her incinerated robes forced her to dress openly—white silks cascading over moonlit skin.
Ning Chen averted his gaze. Unnecessary.
At the Prison Exit
"Farewell, Senior Brother." Nan Gongling lingered, inexplicably reluctant.
"Keep those eyes closed," his voice cut through the shadows. "Their power exceeds your current vessel."
She turned, catching his silhouette through crimson curtains—a solitary figure bathed in lamplight.
He was meant to stand unrivaled, she realized, anguish sharpening her newfound sight. Yet we've chained a dragon.