After dismissing Han Feng, Han Lie returned to the solitude of the Violet Heaven Palace.

For two days, he stood over Xiao Zi like a slavedriver, supervising as the cat demon scrubbed every inch of the bedchamber.

“I… I have perished from exhaustion, meow…” Xiao Zi collapsed onto the cold tiles, her limbs splayed out like a discarded fur rug. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, a picture of tragic demise.

“Still acting?”

Han Lie didn’t buy it for a second. He retrieved the last of the Thousand Flower Pills he had purchased and flicked it toward her.

The pill hadn’t even touched the floor before the ‘dying’ cat vanished in a blur of motion. Snap. Gulp.

Xiao Zi landed on her feet, radiating vitality, her fatigue instantly washed away by the medicinal essence.

“Alright, run along and play,” Han Lie said, dusting off his hands. “I have business with the Saintess.”

Overlord Hall.

The atmosphere was heavy, thick with the scent of burning incense and old blood.

“Master, bad news!” A personal disciple stumbled into the hall, panic written across his face. “The servant, Han Lie… he—he has returned!”

On the dais, Old Ghost Black Sha sat in meditative silence. At the news, his eyes snapped open. They were turbid, ancient pools that held no light, only a suffocating darkness.

“You say Han Lie has returned,” his voice scraped like a tombstone dragging over gravel. “But Ye Lang and the others have not?”

“Yes… Master.”

The air temperature in the hall plummeted. Old Ghost Black Sha’s face darkened, the shadows deepening in the hollows of his cheeks. A terrifying, murderous intent began to leak from his withered frame, causing the kneeling disciple to tremble.

“Do you understand the absurdity of your words?” The Old Ghost’s voice was icy. “Your Eldest Senior Brother is at the Perfection of the Golden Core Stage. That brat Han Lie is merely at the mid-stage. A chasm separates them.”

He could not accept it. Ye Lang was his legacy. He wasn’t some pill-bloated cultivator with a hollow foundation; he was a true genius, tempered by slaughter and time. Given a few more years, Ye Lang would have formed his Nascent Soul, standing equal to the Law Enforcement Hall’s prodigies.

And he had taken four Golden Core juniors with him.

How could such a force capsize in a sewer like the Desolate North?

“But Master,” the disciple stammered, forehead pressing against the floor. “I saw Han Lie with my own eyes. Senior Brother Ye… there is still no signal from his jade slip.”

Old Ghost Black Sha inhaled deeply, the sound rattling in his chest. “I understand. Leave me.”

“Yes, Master.”

The disciple retreated hastily. Had he stayed a moment longer, he would have seen the Old Ghost’s hands trembling violently.

When his disciples Cai Zhen and Yun Xia died, he had felt anger. But Ye Lang? Ye Lang was his masterpiece. Losing him wasn’t just a loss of face; it felt as though someone had reached into his chest and torn away a piece of his own flesh.

“Han Lie…” The name was hissed into the empty hall, a curse marking a dead man walking.

Violet Cloud Palace.

Han Lie, unbothered by the storm brewing in the Overlord Hall, teased the guards at the entrance before swaggering inside.

He tracked the scent of orchids and pure spiritual energy to the second-floor hall. There, sitting cross-legged on a prayer mat, was Bai Ling.

Her eyes were closed in meditation. In this state, stripped of her guard, her stunning face possessed an aura of ethereal innocence. She looked untouched by the world’s filth—a pristine white lotus that ignited a dark, possessive urge to crush it in one’s palm and dote on it fiercely.

Han Lie moved like a ghost. He circled behind her, his presence completely masked until his arms snaked around her slender, alluring waist.

“Ah—!”

Bai Ling jolted, her spiritual energy flaring as she prepared to strike.

“Saintess, don’t turn around,” a familiar, teasing voice whispered against the shell of her ear. “It’s just this old man.”

Bai Ling’s rigid posture instantly collapsed. She exhaled a long, shaky breath. “It… it’s you, Old Man Han. You scared me to death! I thought an enemy had infiltrated.”

Her relief was palpable, but as the reality of his embrace set in, a crimson flush crept up her neck. His arms were firm, locking her against his chest.

“You… what are you doing?” Her voice turned delicate, trembling with a mix of shyness and anticipation.

“Saintess, it has been over a year. This old servant has missed you terribly.” Han Lie buried his face in her long, raven hair, inhaling the intoxicating, clean fragrance that was unique to her. “Surely you haven’t forgotten? You still owe this old man two sessions of… dual cultivation.”

“Mmm…” Bai Ling’s voice was barely a mosquito’s hum. Her face burned hot enough to boil water. “So… you want to… now?”

“Now,” Han Lie confirmed, his hands already beginning to roam with practiced familiarity. “And later. And perhaps after that.”

She was a Saintess of the demonic Sun Moon Sect, yet in his arms, she melted like wax.

It wasn’t a brief encounter like their first time in the wilderness. This was a dedicated session of tutelage. Han Lie, with the endurance of an ancient monster and the vitality of the Pure Yang Sacred Body, proceeded to ‘educate’ the naive Saintess for several days straight.

…

When the storm finally cleared, the room was thick with the scent of aftermath.

Bai Ling lay on the floor, her limbs jelly, her chest heaving as she tried to remember how to breathe. It took nearly an hour for her soul to seemingly re-enter her body.

She turned her head, looking at Han Lie with wide, glistening eyes. Deep within them, exhaustion warred with a profound, terrifying pleasure.

“Old Man Han…” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “You… did you take pills?”

It was the only logical explanation. A normal cultivator, even one with a strong physique, would have been drained dry after a day. Han Lie, however, looked as if he had just finished a light warm-up. He seemed… unsatisfied.

“Saintess, that is an insult to my character,” Han Lie retorted, rolling his eyes. “It has only been a few days. Why would I need pills? If I didn’t pity your fragile state, this old man could continue for another ten days.”

“…” Bai Ling blinked. “Really? Don’t brag.”

Han Lie’s eyes narrowed playfully. “?”

“Since you doubt me, I suppose I must prove it. A practical demonstration is in order.”

“Ah—haha! No! No more!” Bai Ling shrieked, half-laughing, half-begging as she tried to scramble away. “I really can’t take it anymore! I believe you! I was wrong, Old Man Han, spare me!”

She pouted, acting spoiled and pitiful, but the trap had already sprung. Because of her loose tongue, Han Lie subjected her to another several hours of ‘punishment’ before finally granting her mercy.

Later, in the steam-filled bathing pool.

Bai Ling soaked in the hot water, her skin flushed a healthy pink. Han Lie followed her in, the water rippling around his chest.

“Apologies, Saintess. Shall this old servant help you wash?” he asked with a wicked grin.

“N-No need!” Bai Ling waved her hands frantically, splashing water. She shrank back, eyeing him warily. If he touched her now, she feared he might start up again, and she would truly have to flee the sect to survive.

“Relax. I promise not to torment you further.”

“Then… alright.”

True to his word, Han Lie merely served her, scrubbing her back with the attentiveness of a loyal servant—though the enjoyment on his face suggested otherwise. It was Bai Ling who struggled, her face burning as she experienced the intimacy of bathing with a man for the first time.

As the water cooled and the atmosphere settled into a comfortable silence, Han Lie pulled her back into his arms, resting his chin on her damp shoulder.

His tone shifted, the playfulness vanishing.

“Saintess. Recently… has the Sun Moon Sect shown any suspicion toward you?”

At the mention of her sect, the soft expression on Bai Ling’s face evaporated, replaced by a shadow of gloom.