After Constantly Courting Death, I Became the White Moonlight - Chapter 29

A cold, deadly glint surged through the air, laced with the crushing pressure of a Nascent Soul-stage demonic cultivator. Ning Ning was locked in place by the sudden opening of those eyes—by the time she realized something was wrong, it was too late to dodge.

That blade of light was swift as a thunderbolt, forming in a blink, streaking straight toward her chest like a flash of death.

Suddenly, someone yanked her left arm with great force. Her balance broke, and she was thrown sideways. In the split second that followed, the sword light scraped past her shoulder by a hair’s breadth.

The one who’d pulled her moved with such strength that she stumbled straight into his chest. A fresh, woody scent filled her nose—so familiar, exactly the same as her own.

Pei Ji’s body stiffened for a brief second before he quickly let go of her arm. His voice was low and calm, but Ning Ning could feel the tremor in his chest.
“…Apologies.”

She took a step back and thanked him. But before she could say more, Meng Jiaqi’s startled voice rang out nearby.

“Y-You’re the Young City Lord?”

A brief pause, then her tone suddenly rose in pitch with alarm.
“No. No, you’re not. Who the hell are you?!”

The man on the bed sat up slowly, his expression lazy and playful.
“Still can’t guess my identity?”

With a smirk in his eyes, Xuan Ye raised a hand to his face and gave a sharp tug.

Rrrrip—
A human skin mask came off in one smooth motion.

“I had planned to keep playing pretend a little longer,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “Didn’t think I’d be exposed so soon… Looks like you’re not as sharp as that little sword cultivator.”

As the disguise dropped, the true face of the infamous Demon Lord of centuries past finally came into view.

His skin was deathly pale, like it had never seen sunlight. It looked almost translucent, like it was stretched from thin rice paper. His features were handsome but twisted with ruthless arrogance, a wickedness that sent chills down one’s spine at a glance.

Qin Chuan’s eyes widened in horror.
“Then what about our Young City Lord?! You were lying in his bed all this time—where is he?!”

Xuan Ye raised a brow as though recalling something amusing. He chuckled, reached into his robe, and casually tossed something onto the floor.

It landed with a light clack—a translucent green token.

Meng Jiaqi and Qin Chuan only needed one glance before their scalps went numb.

That was the City Lord’s Token, unmistakable in its ancient script, something that could not be forged. It belonged solely to Jiang Si, the true Young City Lord.

But now it lay on the floor, casually thrown away like garbage.

“You’re talking about Jiang Si?” Xuan Ye laughed, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Oh, he’s been dead for ages.”

His voice carried a sickening cheerfulness.
“Galan City’s been sleeping for what—three hundred years? When I found him, Jiang Si was already just a pile of bones. His robes had rotted away. Only this token remained.”

He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy.
“Tragic, isn’t it? Trusted by his elders, only to be betrayed. His whole clan fell into my trap. He fought with everything he had, and in the end, what did he get for it?”

Meng Jiaqi clenched her fists, her voice trembling with rage.
“You monster!”

“Ah, you must be Elder Meng’s daughter, right?” Xuan Ye didn’t look angry. In fact, he seemed rather proud of himself.
“He mentioned you once. Said you were stubborn, always disobedient. Seems he was right.”

His smirk deepened, voice coated with mockery.
“Said you were useless now. That I could dispose of you however I pleased. Such deep fatherly love, isn’t it?”

Meng Jiaqi bit her lip so hard it bled.

“My little secret…” Xuan Ye stepped down from the bed, barefoot. His long black hair flowed like ink as he moved, and the cold curve of his lips grew sharper.
“…can’t be allowed to reach the Xuanyu Sword Sect.”

He looked straight at them, red eyes glowing faintly.
“A little sword cultivator at the Golden Core stage… I bet your soul tastes exquisite.”

The moment the words fell, demonic energy burst forth.

Thick, pitch-black aura rolled out like an unstoppable tide, filling the entire room within seconds. The sheer pressure made the air feel sticky and suffocating, as if even breathing required immense effort.

“He’s at peak Nascent Soul level now,” Zheng Weiqi warned, the only one among them at the Nascent Soul stage herself. She barked out a command, “Get out of this room. Now!”

Xuan Ye only chuckled in response.

His demonic aura twisted and swelled, as though trying to contain something monstrous struggling to break free. In the very next moment—it exploded.

A violent burst of black energy surged outward. Each strand of it was saturated with pure killing intent, like a storm of a thousand razor-sharp swords raining down.

The wooden pillars and white walls cracked under the pressure. Then, with a deafening crash, the entire room collapsed.

Chunks of the ceiling came crashing down like meteors. Swarms of demonic energy surged in from every direction.

Zheng Weiqi immediately shielded Qin Chuan and Meng Jiaqi, her sword shattering the incoming aura to protect the two still-inexperienced demon cultivators from instant death.

Pei Ji slashed down a collapsing wooden beam and, for some reason, frowned faintly. He turned to Ning Ning and murmured:

“I’ll cover you. Go.”

But she shook her head.
“I don’t want cover,” she said, drawing her Starscar Sword.

“Let’s go together.”

The moment she spoke, she noticed the odd paleness in Pei Ji’s face.

Something was wrong.

“You—are you alright?” she asked softly.

Pei Ji’s expression darkened.
“We’re in trouble.”

Beside her, He Zhizhou infused his sword with thunder arts, lightning crackling as the blade pierced into the thick demonic fog. Sparks burst forth, illuminating his anxious expression.

The weapon and technique he had emptied his savings to purchase finally proved their worth. Slashing through the black mist, he shouted, “I’ve heard that when dense demonic energy suddenly erupts, it triggers a resonance in other demonic bloodlines—Isn’t Pei Ji part demon too? His body’s reacting, his sword qi is clashing with the demonic energy!”

Pei Ji’s face paled further as he turned away to avoid Ning Ning’s gaze. “I’m fine.”

But in the cultivator world, power meant everything. Between them and Xuan Ye, the difference was still a chasm. The overwhelming demonic energy screamed as it surged toward them like a web spun from shadow and death—dense, all-encompassing, offering no escape.

Pei Ji’s condition rapidly deteriorated, yet he grit his teeth and endured, showing not a flicker of pain on his face.

Thankfully, Ning Ning’s sword style leaned toward speed and precision. Her Startrace Sword gleamed white as she unleashed a flurry of shimmering blade lights—like a river of stars exploding across the sky. Swift and relentless, her strikes tore into the web of demonic qi.

But the magic was too dense, too wild. Even with their best efforts, some strands broke through. Each of them suffered cuts and gashes. When they finally burst out of the ruined house, a thunderous boom erupted behind them.

Half the wall collapsed under its own weight.

From the crumbling ruins, Xuan Ye rose without haste. With eerie elegance, he launched himself into the air, landing with perfect balance atop the roof’s curved eaves. His long robes fluttered around him, stirred by an unholy wind. A corner of his garment lifted, revealing the inky black demonic energy winding around his ankles like coiled serpents.

Zheng Weiqi, who had shielded the two weaker beastkin, was wounded. Her white robe—normally pristine and masculine in cut—was stained with blood, resembling scattered red plum blossoms. It gave her a cold and vicious beauty.

But she was still the undisputed senior sister of the Xuanxu Sword Sect.

Clenching her teeth, she leapt onto the rooftop in a burst of speed, sword in hand. The sword shadows split into countless beams of white light, encircling her in a glowing aura.

Then, in a single ringing hum, the sword shadows struck all at once—slashing toward the devil cultivator with breathtaking force. The sword aura howled like dragons, and the brilliance turned night into day.

This was the Xuanxu Sword Sect’s true secret art—Ten Thousand Swords Incantation.

It was a technique so difficult it was typically used only by Cultivators in the Soul Formation realm. Xuan Ye hadn’t expected a mere girl to summon such a move. Forced back several paces by the sword lights, he cursed under his breath, summoning demonic qi to shield himself. Even so, fresh wounds opened along his body.

Realizing she wasn’t to be underestimated, Xuan Ye fought back with deadly precision. For a few intense exchanges, he and Zheng Weiqi clashed fiercely—but ultimately, her cultivation and experience fell short. After a brief skirmish, she was knocked back, blood at her lips.

Xuan Ye, too, was injured—he spat out a mouthful of pitch-black blood.

“A trifling Nascent Soul cultivator dares fight me?” he sneered, eyes growing darker with malice. “And now we’re left with a few Core Formation juniors…”

His lips curled with a cruel smile.

“Well? Are you going to fight, or shall I do the honors myself?”

But he didn’t wait for an answer.

In the next instant, he dropped from the roof like a hawk and landed directly in front of Ning Ning.

He had always despised clever women.

Especially those who could see through his tricks.

“You’ll make a fine appetizer,” he said softly, malicious delight glinting in his blood-red eyes.

Dark energy surged as he activated his demonic powers. Ning Ning instinctively reached for her sword—but before she could draw, another blade had already slashed into place, shielding her.

It was Pei Ji.

His body trembled from the rampant demonic energy tearing through him, his fingers shaking from the pain. Yet his face was unreadable, his voice icy cold.

“Don’t touch her.”

“You?” Xuan Ye looked him over and scoffed. “You’re tainted too, aren’t you? Demonic qi fighting sword qi in your own body… You can barely stand. Still playing the hero?”

Pei Ji said nothing.

He answered with steel.

His sword struck like frost, sharp and merciless—each swing a glinting arc of silver light, like snowflakes slicing the night. Fast, fierce, and desperate, he threw every ounce of strength into the attack, leaving Xuan Ye no room to breathe.

Pei Ji’s strikes grew more vicious with every exchange.

This level of swordsmanship was far beyond what an ordinary Golden Core cultivator could achieve. At last, Xuan Ye stopped smiling. With a flick of his sleeve, he conjured a pitch-black longsword formed entirely from demonic energy.

The two swords clashed, their wielders moving so fast they became blurs of light—one white, one black—striking with no superfluous flourishes, only pure killing intent honed in the fires of countless battles.

In such a fierce duel, any attempt to interfere would only cause more harm than good. Ning Ning’s brows furrowed as her heart pounded wildly.

Pei Ji was fighting as if he had nothing to lose. The darkness swallowed his black robes, and each movement left a trace of blood on the ground.

He was even paler than Xuan Ye. Beneath that lean, elegant frame lurked a ferocious beast, its cruelty etched into every bone of his body.

Thin strands of shadowy demonic mist slithered up his ankles, spine, and neck like living serpents. He was clearly in excruciating pain—his back trembled despite his efforts to control it. But that pain became his fuel, pushing him forward with relentless drive.

Xuan Ye, already weakened from earlier and having expended much energy in his clash with Zheng Weiqi, began to falter. Yet his opponent fought like a mad dog, giving him not a moment to breathe.

…This brat’s lost his mind!

The way he fought was no different from throwing his life away—trading every shred of vitality to press forward without mercy.

Madman!

Xuan Ye gritted his teeth and called upon the last of his spiritual power, launching a ferocious strike at Pei Ji. There was no way the boy could dodge in time. And ordinary sword qi wouldn’t be enough to counter it. He was confident that this one blow would pierce through Pei Ji’s defenses and rip him open.

A cold, triumphant smile crept onto his lips—until the next moment, when his expression froze.

The youth before him was nearly consumed by demonic energy, his eyes as dark as an abyss. Bloodshot and clouded with agony, they still burned with terrifying resolve. His face had turned an eerie grey, drained of life, as if death were only moments away.

But on the blade he held, white sword-light intertwined with surging demonic mist. It was like stars entwined with the moon, bursting through the layers of darkness—

—and in an instant, it stabbed straight into Xuan Ye’s abdomen!

What…?!

Agonizing pain tore through his gut. Xuan Ye stared at the boy’s unwavering, death-bound gaze in utter disbelief.

This lunatic…! He actually merged demonic energy with righteous sword intent?! Was he not afraid of losing control—of the spiritual backlash devouring him alive?

Even someone like him, a demonic cultivator who walked the unorthodox path, couldn’t help but wonder—just what kind of monstrous heresy was this?!

Xuan Ye looked down, face contorted with pain, unable to believe what he saw.

Pei Ji could no longer bear the pain of the demonic energy rampaging through his body. He dropped to one knee, supporting himself weakly with a bloodied palm.

“Pei Ji!”

Ning Ning’s heart shot up to her throat. She rushed toward him. Just like before, he was once again drenched in blood.

…Only this time, he had done it to protect her.

“You think this is the end?”

Xuan Ye’s voice came out as a sneer, ragged with pain. Still, a glint of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. “Of course I wouldn’t be foolish enough to come alone. I’ve set up a little surprise in a place none of you would expect… Care to see?”

He suddenly burst into laughter, raising his voice as if speaking to someone else. “Come out!”

As his shout echoed, five figures stepped out from the shadows of the courtyard.

All were elderly men with snow-white hair and clouded eyes, bearing a quiet, scholarly demeanor.

Meng Jiaqi trembled—whether from rage or fear, even she didn’t know. “T-Those are… the five Elders…”

One of the elders looked at her, chin lifting coldly with an expression full of disdain. It was none other than her biological father, Meng Qing.

“Why did you lie to me?”

Tears welled up in Meng Jiaqi’s eyes as she looked at him, unable to contain her emotions. “Father… why did you help them kill the Young City Lord?!”

Meng Qing didn’t even glance her way. Another elder beside him answered in a slow, composed voice:
“Follow the Demon Lord, and we shall enjoy a lifetime of wealth and glory. Jiaqi, stop clinging to your delusions.”

Delusions? The delusional ones were clearly them!

These elders had been sealed beneath the lake for so long that they had no idea a war between immortals and demons had already ravaged the outside world. The demon race had long since vanished. What wealth and glory could there possibly be?

“To complete the Soul Refining ritual and reshape my spiritual sea, I still need three human souls. I had planned to kill you all and take them—but now…”

Xuan Ye licked the blood from his lips, eyes gleaming with cruel joy. “That brat’s soul alone will suffice. Tonight—I will bring this city to its knees!”

The ritual to harvest a soul had to be done at the moment of death—or during a state of extreme weakness.

Pei Ji was already hanging by a thread. With the elders activating the Five-Point Soul Snaring Array, the extraction would take only a second. No one else would have time to intervene.

Once he absorbed that boy’s spirit energy, combined with the countless souls and demon essences he had already consumed, not only could he leave this cursed place—he could rise again as the Demon Lord, unrivalled in the realm.

The five elders responded in unison: “Yes!”

The Soul Snaring Array flared to life. Runes of blood rose into the air—

—but a heartbeat later, they all crashed down with a thud, collapsing into puddles of soggy red curses at their feet.

There was no soul-snatching, no dazzling crimson glow—nothing. The incantation died before it even began, as if nothing had ever happened at all.

Four pairs of eyes filled with disbelief turned simultaneously toward a single direction.

Someone shouted in horror, voice shaking:

“What are you doing… Meng Qing?!”

At the heart of the formation, the elderly man stood alone, his figure hunched yet unwavering. For the first time, a flicker of clarity lit up his once-clouded eyes. He did not chant a spell, nor did he channel the array’s power—instead, he simply gave the others a quiet, almost serene smile.

Then, he raised one foot and lightly stepped on the blood rune beneath him, smearing it into a shapeless blotch of red.

The moment the array was activated, someone halted midway through its construction. The interruption shattered the entire formation, rendering it useless.

Just like that day, three hundred years ago, at the city gates.

A long-planned vengeance was finally unfolding.

Realizing something was amiss, Xuan Ye gritted his teeth and clutched the gaping wound Pei Ji had carved into his abdomen.

“You think you can take this city?”

A voice—unfamiliar, cold, and biting like a midwinter wind—sliced through the still air. Laced with disdain, it shattered the tense stalemate like glass.

“My city… you don’t have the power to move it.”

Meng Jiaqi’s eyes widened in disbelief. She turned toward the voice, her throat catching on a trembling breath. “Y-Young City Lord?”

Ning Ning, still kneeling beside Pei Ji, struggled to lift her head.

From the shadowy depths of a tree-lined path, a tall figure slowly emerged.

The man wore a long black robe embroidered with dark gold patterns, blending into the night around him. As the lamplight gradually illuminated his face, the first thing that came into view was the deep crimson mark trailing from the corner of his eye—

A birthmark belonging solely to the Phoenix Clan.

He looked almost identical to the false face Xuan Ye had worn before… and yet his presence was utterly different.

Unlike the twisted aura and killing intent that clung to demonic cultivators, the true young lord of Jialan City stood tall and refined, like jade sculpted from starlight. His expression was unreadable—neither joy nor anger evident in his face—but his long, narrow phoenix eyes gleamed with a sharpness that pierced the gloom like a sword through silk.

“Jiang Si…” Xuan Ye froze, then burst out laughing. “I thought you’d died a dog’s death, and it turns out you were just hiding like a coward! What—Meng Qing was in league with you? What did you bribe him with?”

Jiang Si gave him a faint smile—one so calm, it was almost chilling. “Bribe? There was no need for that. Uncle Meng has always been one of mine.”

Xuan Ye’s laughter faltered.

“…Since the beginning?”

He forced the words out, a dangerous glint flaring in his eyes.

If Meng Qing had never betrayed Jiang Si, that meant Jiang Si had known all along—about the elders’ betrayal, about the fall of Jialan, about the slaughter at the city gates.

It also meant… Jiang Si might have been prepared to perish with them from the very start.

A horrifying thought took root in Xuan Ye’s mind, sending fury ripping through his veins.

Logically, Jiang Si had exhausted far more spiritual power than he had. Even if he survived the ordeal, he should have been unconscious long after. Xuan Ye had scoured the ruins in search of his body, and eventually found what he thought were Jiang Si’s bones, bleached white and abandoned in some hidden corner. Naturally, he assumed the young city lord had died in the fierce battle of the past.

But if Jiang Si had foreseen everything—the betrayal, the collapse, the slumber that overtook them all—then couldn’t he have arranged, in advance, for someone to hide his sleeping body in a secure place until the time was right?

Xuan Ye wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, a shudder rippling through his spine.

“Don’t tell me you—”

Jiang Si had no patience for his rambling. He curved his lips into a cold smile. “You finally understand.”

Not everyone was so quick to throw away their principles and conscience in pursuit of riches and glory.

Back then, when Meng Qing pretended to accept Xuan Ye’s offer, he immediately turned around and reported the entire matter to Jiang Si. After pondering for a moment, he suggested solemnly,
“Young Lord, they come with ill intent. I fear we’re not equipped to withstand them. Should we seek help from the immortal sects and noble clans? Perhaps they might lend a hand.”

Jiang Si shook his head.
“Xuan Ye is decisive and ruthless. Since he’s already roped in all the elders, he’ll surely launch the assault without delay. By the time outside help arrives, it will be far too late.”

After a short pause, he added,
“Instead of waiting to be crushed, let’s use their plan against them. We may not win—but we can take him down with us.”

Meng Qing was aghast.
“Young Lord…!”

“When the city gate array is activated, I won’t direct my spiritual power into the formation. I’ll focus entirely on striking Xuan Ye. He’s reckless—if he believes I’m absorbed in the ritual, he’ll lower his guard. That’s when I’ll strike.”

The young man sat at his desk and gently closed the ancient tome in his hand.
“As for Jialan City, I’ll use every last shred of my spiritual energy to erect a massive barrier within. It’ll shield the city from the floodwaters. The backlash from my clash with Xuan Ye will likely impact the citizens’ divine sense, causing a long-term coma… and that’s where the second phase of our plan begins.”

Meng Qing narrowed his eyes in thought as Jiang Si continued,
“My spiritual energy is already nearly depleted. I’ll be asleep much longer than Xuan Ye. To ensure he doesn’t kill me the moment he wakes, Uncle Meng… I need your help.”

“The shockwave from a battle between Nascent Soul cultivators could render someone unconscious for decades—maybe even centuries. But if one takes a Soul-Fixing Pill beforehand, it can significantly reduce the damage.”

As he spoke, Jiang Si retrieved a jade token and handed it to Meng Qing.
“This is the City Lord’s Token. Uncle Meng, I won’t need the pill—I’ll be unconscious regardless. But you must take it before the battle. When you awaken, hide me in the secret chamber beneath the City Lord’s Manor. Then find a set of bones that matches my build, and place the City Lord’s Token with it.”

He sighed softly.
“I’m sorry you’ll have to bear the role of traitor for a while. People will hate you.”

This was Jiang Si’s grand strategy.

Use Xuan Ye’s plan against him. Turn a trap into a cage. Fake his death, shed his identity like a cicada leaving its shell, and vanish from the world. Wait in silence until his strength returned—then strike back and end it.

“You… You two!”

Xuan Ye’s face paled and flushed in turns. At last, he coughed up a mouthful of blood, eyes bulging with rage as he stared at Meng Qing.
“You actually tricked me? You lying snake!”

To which the white-haired old man replied, ever so politely,
“Lord Xuan, weren’t you the one who taught us all how to lie in the first place?”

Now that the Soul-Seizing Array was broken, Xuan Ye’s final hope crumbled. And to make it worse—his mortal enemy wasn’t just alive, but had tricked him for three hundred years.

It was a spiritual and physical blow rolled into one.

He screamed and sputtered, his voice rising with every breath. Black blood spurted from his mouth like a demonic fountain.
“Wait! Jiang Si! I’ll make a deal! As long as you promise not to kill me, I’ll give up my position as Demon Lord to you!”

Ning Ning gently wiped the blood from Pei Ji’s face with a handkerchief, then looked up at him with an almost amused smile.
“Uncle, times have changed. Didn’t you hear? After the Immortal-Demon War, the demon race was wiped out. Not one was left.”

Xuan Ye’s face drained of color, then flushed green.

Ning Ning added with an innocent tone,
“If you walk outside now, only two things will happen. One—you’ll be skewered on the spot. Two—you’ll be captured and put on display in a museum exhibit titled: The Last Demon.”

Xuan Ye’s complexion turned black—spectral, shimmering, otherworldly black.

Jiang Si stepped forward, his gaze cold as frost. A longsword appeared in his hand, summoned out of thin air. His tone left no room for refusal.
“Apologize to the people of Jialan City.”

“Apologize?”

The exhausted demon cultivator gave a low snort, baring his teeth in a sneer.
“In your dreams!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the crimson in his pupils intensified, condensing into two blood-red orbs. They spun madly, roiling with an ominous light—on the verge of detonation.

Jiang Si’s eyes narrowed. His voice rang out, loud and commanding:
“Everyone—DOWN!”

Xuan Ye’s wild laughter was abruptly cut off by a deafening blast.

The demonic energy in the explosion was no different from a modern-day bomb. The impact ripped through the air, sending waves of searing heat in every direction.

Ning Ning activated her sword aura to shield them, wrapping Pei Ji’s head in her arms. His body remained as still as a statue, barely breathing.

Jiang Si, spotting the gravely injured Zheng Weiqi sprawled nearby, didn’t hesitate. He leapt forward and shielded her with his own body.
“Brother, hold on!”

===

Xuan Ye, knowing defeat was inevitable, detonated himself in a final act of rage. His essence exploded in a surge of demonic energy that lingered ominously in the air.

After a long silence, Jiang Si slowly sat up, bruised and bloodied, having been flung beside Zheng Weiqi. Their gazes met.

Amid the swirling mist and flickering shadows, it was like something from a storybook—a heroic rescue under a fractured sky.

Their faces were inches apart. And in that fleeting breath of time, Jiang Si suddenly felt that in his entire life… he had never met anyone quite like this.

The beautiful young man blinked at her. Then, with utmost seriousness, he parted his lips and said:
“Brother, why… are your pecs so dramatic?”

Zheng Weiqi’s expression froze.

Then her voice dropped into a dangerously chilly register.
“…Oh? Is that so?”

It was only then that Jiang Si realized—from the voice—that this “brother” was a girl in disguise.

“A woman?”

Jiang Si frowned, but a second later, a low chuckle curled at the corner of his lips. “Interesting. You just used the Ten Thousand Sword Art of the Xuanxu Sword Sect while only at the Nascent Soul stage. That caught my attention.” He gave a graceful bow. “I am Jiang Si of Jialan City. Woman, what is your name?”

Zheng Weiqi remained expressionless.

Ningning had taken Pei Ji to the medical hall for treatment, while the citizens of Jialan City—having rushed to the scene—escorted all the implicated elders straight to the tribunal.

He Zhizhou, the self-proclaimed gossip king and professional bystander, blinked at the exchange.

Finally, the romantic subplot had arrived.

——But wait a minute, what was this weird tone? Why was the Young Lord suddenly sounding like he stepped out of some cheesy CEO romance drama?

It was as if everyone else was performing a serious xianxia epic, and out of nowhere, this guy came strutting in straight from a bad rom-com script—delivering his lines with deadly sincerity.

As for Ningning’s eldest senior sister—

Yeah, something was very, very wrong with her expression.

He Zhizhou vaguely recalled Ningning once mentioning that Zheng Weiqi had learned a lot of cursing and trash talk during her training at the foot of the mountain—earning herself the proud title of “Trash Talk Queen of Zu’an.” Her master, Tian Xianzi, had to personally curse her to tone it down.

But now? Yeah, no way she could hold it back this time.

Zheng Weiqi’s Trash Talk Bar: Charging at 30%.

“Why aren’t you answering me, hmm?”

Jiang Si’s face darkened slightly, as if suddenly enlightened. “Ah… trying to play hard to get so I’ll fall for you?” he sneered coldly. “It won’t work. I won’t fall in love with any woman.”

He Zhizhou lowered his head in secondhand embarrassment, digging his toes into the soles of his shoes.

Help. Was this really the legendary Young Lord of Jialan City? Why did he act like he’d been possessed by some outdated, narcissistic CEO romance lead?

And just beside him, Meng Jiaqi was blushing furiously, whispering with sparkling eyes, “The Young Lord is so charming… so masculine! How can someone be so cold and brooding all the time and still so attractive?!”

He Zhizhou: …

Were ancient cultivators just born with this kind of avant-garde taste?

Sure, three hundred years ago, that icy-dominant persona might’ve been trendy. But now?

It was like someone in 2050 greeting you with: “Yo! You surf the net too? LOL. Are you a boy or a girl?”

Zheng Weiqi’s Trash Talk Bar: Charging at 70%.

Jiang Si, still getting no response, seemingly wanted to salvage a bit of face. His expression hardened. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m only interested in your swordsmanship. Woman, I admire your talent. I can give you anything… except love.”

Zheng Weiqi: “Heh.”

With one shove, she knocked him flat on his back. Before Jiang Si could react, she was on top of him, one knee pressing into his chest, completely pinning him down.

“Oh? One Ten Thousand Sword Art and you’re already interested?” She leaned down, voice cold. “Want me to really catch your attention? I could twist your head off and punt it into the sun so hard it’ll orbit next to it—and I guarantee you’ll never forget me for the rest of your miserable life.”

She held up a hand, fingers poised. “You said you’d give me anything but love? Great. Start with one million spirit stones! And I want your next eight centuries of wages—every last copper. Hand it over!”

She paused, took a deep breath, then snarled, “With those scrawny arms and twig legs, you actually think you have the right to flirt? You’re a walking ego-trip, a rare species of delusion. Honestly, your face should be turned into the city walls—ain’t no siege weapon in the world that could break through that thick skin!”

Her tirade left Jiang Si completely speechless.

But just as Zheng Weiqi was really starting to get into it, her face suddenly went pale.

Thanks to Tian Xianzi’s curse, whenever she started cussing someone out, she’d be forced to do the one thing she least wanted to do in that moment.

And right now, the thing she absolutely, positively didn’t want to do was—

Her face went dead gray like she’d swallowed a fly.

Then, with a forced smile and dead eyes, she hooked Jiang Si’s chin and purred softly, “Man… you’re such a dangerous little minx.”

This… this was despair.

He Zhizhou: …

Help. Senior sister just turned into the domineering CEO!

Everything she did completely blindsided Jiang Si. Frozen by her grip, he stiffened. After a pause, he forced himself to bark, “What do you think you’re doing? Woman, don’t you know… you’re playing with fire!”

Zheng Weiqi, looking absolutely done with life, narrowed her eyes and sneered like an apex predator: “Playing with fire? And what if I am? From now on, only I get to bully you. Got it?”

What an unspeakably greasy line.

Truly the pinnacle of using cringe to fight cringe.

Jiang Si was stunned.

How could there possibly be a woman in this world more wickedly arrogant than him? Just a few sentences and she had verbally smacked him into a corner!

His once-glorious aura of dominance now lay in ruins. Before her, he wasn’t a mighty tyrant—just a turtle trying to hide in his shell.

For some reason, he was… scared.

He really wanted to say, “Woman, don’t test my limits.”

But what came out was: “It’s not what you think! I can explain! I wasn’t—cough!”

Reversal complete.

His injuries weren’t healed. His spiritual energy was weak. The dizziness and coughing were just symptoms of that.

Hearing his strained voice, Zheng Weiqi immediately furrowed her brows, expression fierce like a demon from the abyss.

“Where’s the doctor?! I said, where’s the doctor?! If he dies, I’ll bury the entire damn city with him!”

So domineering. So wildly unreasonable.

Fists to ‘Woman, you’re playing with fire.’
Kicks to ‘You’re just a plaything.’

The moment she said it, Jiang Si knew.

He had lost.

Utterly. Completely. Without even a sliver of hope.

Nearby, Qin Chuan—still looking like a middle-aged man due to disguise—peeked out curiously. “Big brother, big sister… what are they doing? Why is Sister Zheng lying on top of the Young Lord?”

He Zhizhou paused thoughtfully.

Then, with utmost sincerity, and the solemn duty of protecting the nation’s youth, he said: “They’re, uh… practicing the Little Froggy Technique. You’ve seen frogs hop, right? Kinda like that.”