“Brother~ when do we leave?” Xiao Qingge leaned against the mission counter, her voice dripping with a sugary sweetness that set Han Lie’s teeth on edge.

“Tomorrow,” Han Lie replied, sliding the mission token into his belt. “Noon. We meet at the central plaza.”

“Okay~” She beamed, waving a hand as delicate as white jade. “I’ll go get ready. See you then, Brother!”

She skipped away, her movements light and airy. Han Lie watched her go, a cynical smirk touching his lips. “Tsk.” He shook his head. The performance was flawless, but he knew better.

“Han Lie?” A husky, familiar voice broke his train of thought.

He turned to see a tall, voluptuous woman gliding into the hall. It was Qin Lan from the Law Enforcement Hall, her presence commanding immediate attention.

“Senior Qin Lan,” Han Lie greeted, his tone smoothing into professional courtesy. “I’m running low on resources. Thought I’d bleed the sect’s enemies for a bit of coin.”

“Which mission?” She extended a hand, palm up.

Han Lie passed her the scroll. Her eyes scanned the text, narrowing slightly.

“Mine Number One,” she murmured, her playful demeanor hardening into seriousness. “The situation there is volatile. If that mine falls, the sect loses millions in spirit stones within weeks. You need to move fast.”

“I leave at dawn tomorrow,” Han Lie assured her.

“Tomorrow?” Qin Lan’s eyelashes fluttered, a spark of mischief returning to her gaze. “Then you have time. Come with me.”

The private quarters on the second floor of the Law Enforcement Hall were quiet, insulated from the bustle of the sect below. Qin Lan locked the door and hopped onto the heavy oak desk, crossing her legs.

“My old resting room,” she purred, winking. “Soundproof enough.”

Han Lie didn’t waste words. He stepped forward, burying his hand in her hair and pulling her into a bruising kiss. Half a year of solitude had sharpened his hunger, and Qin Lan tasted like spiced wine—intoxicating and sweet.

Her composure shattered instantly. She clawed at his robes, her movements frantic, shedding the persona of the strict enforcer to reveal a woman starved for touch. The air in the room grew heavy, thick with the scent of musk and rising heat.

downstairs, in the main meditation hall.

Su Mei sat cross-legged on a prayer mat, her breathing rhythmic, her mind seeking the void. She was the picture of ascetic discipline, a statue of ice and jade.

Then, a sound drifted down from the ceiling.

It was faint—a stifled gasp, followed by a low, rhythmic thrumming that vibrated through the wooden beams. Su Mei’s eyes snapped open. Her cultivation senses were sharp, far too sharp. She recognized that voice.

Qin Lan.

Su Mei frowned, trying to seal her hearing, to retreat back into the stillness of her meditation. But the sounds persisted. The rhythm quickened, the gasps turning into unabashed cries of pleasure that echoed in the sensitive ears of a high-level cultivator.

Her skin began to prickle. A flush crept up her neck, betraying her cold exterior.

“Shameless,” she whispered, her hand drifting unconsciously to her chest. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

An hour passed. The sounds did not stop; they only intensified, shifting in pitch and urgency. Su Mei could no longer sit still. The meditation hall felt stifling, the air too hot to breathe.

She stood abruptly, fleeing to her own quarters.

“Too much perception is a curse,” she muttered, downing a cup of cold tea with trembling hands.

It didn’t help. Her mind, usually a fortress of clarity, betrayed her. Images she had long suppressed flooded her consciousness—phantom sensations of skin against skin, the weight of a body pressing her down. She saw Han Lie’s face, not as a junior, but as something else entirely.

The discipline of decades crumbled against the raw, biological imperative. Su Mei collapsed onto her bed, her legs twisting together as she buried her face in the pillow, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

The next day.

The sun was high when Han Lie finally extricated himself from Qin Lan’s limbs. It had been a marathon, leaving both of them exhausted but not quite satiated.

“Han Lie,” Qin Lan whispered, her legs hooking possessively around his waist one last time. Her breath was a warm orchid breeze against his ear. “I’m not done with you. Come back alive.”

“I always do,” Han Lie said, smoothing his robes. “I’ll find you the moment I return.”

He left the Law Enforcement Hall, taking a quick detour to the Jade Clear Pool to wash away the scent of their tryst before heading to the plaza.

The training grounds were bustling. In the center, sitting on a stone bench, was Xiao Qingge. She wore her hair in twin tails today, radiating an aura of innocent charm.

A group of male disciples from the outer halls had surrounded her, buzzing like flies around a flower. Xiao Qingge had her arms crossed, staring pointedly at the sky. The more she ignored them, the more aggressive their posturing became.

“Come on, Junior Sister, just one drink,” one insisted, leaning too close.

Xiao Qingge’s eye twitched. The mask slipped.

“If you lot are still in my line of sight in three seconds,” she hissed, her voice dropping an octave, “I will ensure you never enjoy the company of a woman again.”

The men froze, instinctively covering their groins. The murderous intent radiating from the ‘innocent’ girl was palpable.

“Scram!”

They scattered like frightened rats.

“Hmph.” Xiao Qingge smoothed her skirt, her face twisted in a scowl. “Bunch of trash. No self-awareness. Did your mothers birth you in a litter of swine?”

“Cough.”

Xiao Qingge froze. She turned slowly, her neck creaking like a rusty hinge. Han Lie stood five paces behind her, an inscrutable expression on his face.

Her brain short-circuited. For a solid ten seconds, she just stared, her mouth opening and closing like a landed fish.

“Brother… I…” She clasped her hands together, twiddling her fingers, her eyes widening into saucers. “It’s not what it looks like! Those men… they were so rude! I just… I slipped!”

“Slipped and revealed your true nature?” Han Lie asked dryly.

“No! No!” Her face flushed a brilliant crimson. “I’m not usually like that! Everyone gets mad, right? Brother, you understand, don’t you?”

Han Lie chuckled, a low, genuine sound. “I understand perfectly.”

He stepped closer, leaning down slightly. “Truth be told? You looked a little cute just now.”

“Cute? I was fierce!” She puffed out her cheeks, relieved he wasn’t repulsed.

“Enough chatter. Let’s go.”

Mine Number One was located near Anhun Town, two thousand miles south of the sect. The town existed solely to service the mine; without the spirit stones, it would be nothing but dust.

Han Lie and Xiao Qingge arrived an hour later, descending from the clouds.

From above, the town looked like a broken jaw. plumes of black smoke rose from the ruins of buildings. The streets were empty, save for the debris of recent skirmishes.

They landed at the mine’s main gate.

“Halt!”

A guard, his uniform stained with soot and dried blood, leveled a spear at them. His eyes were wide with panic.

Han Lie produced his identity token. “Inner Sect reinforcements. Take us to your commander.”

The guard’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Inner Sect… thank the heavens. We were about to collapse. Follow me!”

The interior of the mining outpost was grim. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air. Rows of bodies—sect disciples—lay covered in white sheets on the parade ground.

They were led to the command center, where they met Deacon He Tao. The man looked like he hadn’t slept in a week; his face was gaunt, and bandages wrapped his torso.

“Deacon He,” Han Lie said without preamble. “Why is the Myriad Sword Pavilion attacking here? I thought only the Sun Moon Sect was pushing the borders.”

He Tao sighed, slumping into his chair. “You don’t know the half of it. We share a border with the Pavilion. For years, we’ve had skirmishes, but it was manageable.”

“Three months ago, the Sun Moon Sect got involved,” He Tao continued, rubbing his temples. “They are stronger, vicious. They wait until we engage the Pavilion, then strike our flanks.”

“A three-way war,” Han Lie mused, his eyes cold. “Perfect for profit.”