Li Fuxi fell silent. She raised her left hand, spiritual light dancing at her fingertips as she sketched rapidly in the empty air. Water vapor condensed, coalescing into a pristine mirror hovering before them.

Ripples cleared to reveal a face—a man with honest, rugged features and a steadfast set to his jaw. Even in the reflection, an air of unshakeable integrity seemed to radiate from him.

“Is it him?” Li Fuxi’s voice carried a tremor she couldn’t quite suppress.

Zhang Xian scrutinized the image in the water mirror, overlaying it mentally with the ruined, half-shattered visage of the earth-attribute puppet he had fought.

He nodded slowly. “The puppet’s face was stiff and waxen, but the bone structure and brow ridge are a match. It’s him.”

Li Fuxi squeezed her eyes shut and let out a long, shuddering breath.

She raised her hand again. The water mirror rippled and shifted, reforming into the image of a middle-aged scholar with an elegant, refined demeanor.

“And him? Have you seen this man?”

Zhang Xian studied the image for a moment before shaking his head. “No. I haven’t encountered him.”

“They are my Senior Brother, Wang Pan,” Li Fuxi said, her voice low and thick with suppressed emotion. “And my mentor… the former Head of Spirit Sword Peak, Master Wangchuan.”

She paused, her gaze fixing on Zhang Xian. “Actually, back at the Demon-Suppression Conference, I had my suspicions the moment I saw that puppet unleash the [Profound Yellow Mountain-Steadying Rock]. Senior Brother Wang Pan’s cultivation technique is too unique. Almost no one else in the Southern Region mastered it to that degree. When you mentioned Daoist Qianji later… I knew.”

Her eyes grew distant, lost in the memories of laughter that once echoed through Spirit Sword Peak.

Back then, Senior Brother and Second Senior Sister had been quietly in love. Li Fuxi was just a child, a little tag-along trailing behind them. She remembered how Second Senior Sister used to tease Senior Brother about his clumsy technique, mocking him for only knowing how to hide inside a “turtle shell” instead of wielding a sword with the dashing flair of other cultivators.

Senior Brother would just scratch his head and smile that honest smile.

“My job isn’t to look cool,” he would say. “It’s to protect you all. To protect Spirit Sword Peak.”

His swordsmanship was mediocre at best, but his [Profound Yellow Mountain-Steadying Rock] was flawless, an impenetrable wall known throughout the Southern Region.

Zhang Xian felt a weight settle in his chest. Beneath Li Fuxi’s calm narration, he sensed a turbulent ocean of grief. Her Master and Senior Brother were her world. To know their souls were denied rest, their bodies desecrated and refined into demonic puppets—it was a torture worse than death.

“Master,” Zhang Xian said softly. “If we encounter them in the Demon Nest…”

CLANG—!

Li Fuxi’s spirit sword vibrated, emitting a sharp, piercing hum that cut through the air.

“Zhang Xian, you underestimate me.” Her eyes snapped open, cold and clear. “I pray we encounter them. I will personally shatter the puppet shells imprisoning their souls. I will be the one to set Senior Brother and Master free.”

She turned away, the vulnerability vanishing behind a mask of steel. “Go and rest. We must be in peak condition for the battle to come.”

“Yes, Master.” Sensing the absolute finality in her killing intent, Zhang Xian bowed and retreated without another word.

Leaving his master to her preparations, Zhang Xian made his way to Lin Yinyin’s cabin.

The moment he pushed the door open, a voice dripping with vinegar greeted him.

“Oh look! Master Zhang is finally off the clock? After comforting the first wife and the second wife, you finally remembered you have a little concubine tucked away here?”

Zhang Xian didn’t say a word. He stepped inside, backhanded the door shut, and flicked his wrist. Spiritual light flared, instantly erecting a high-grade barrier that blocked all sound and severed any prying Divine Sense.

Lin Yinyin watched the swift, sneaky movements, her eyes widening.

No way. Is Brother really going to… in broad daylight?

She had embarrassed herself by misreading the mood several times before, so she tried to play it cool. “So… what does Brother have in mind this time?”

Zhang Xian chuckled, a wicked glint in his eyes as he sat down next to her, closing the distance. “What do you think?”

“Ah!” Lin Yinyin shrank back, her composure cracking. “Brother, chill out! Your injuries aren’t even fully healed, and the war is about to start! Can’t you… can’t you get your priorities straight?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, her face burning a brilliant crimson. “Wait… wait until the battle is over. Then Yinyin promises to play whatever game you want…”

Seeing her flustered, shy appearance, Zhang Xian felt a surge of heat. He reached into his robe, pulled out an exquisite jade slip, and shoved it into her hands.

“It is precisely because the battle is imminent that we need to do this. Right now.”

“Cultivation?” Lin Yinyin blinked, confused. She accepted the jade slip and probed it with her Divine Sense.

Instantly, her jaw dropped.

The slip was filled with vivid, high-definition illustrations of men and women in various… entangled postures. Alongside the scandalous art were detailed diagrams of energy meridians and circulation routes.

Even for someone who claimed to be worldly, this was too much. She yelped and threw the jade slip across the room as if it were a burning coal.

“Ah! Pah, pah, pah! Brother, you pervert! Where did you get such filth? That’s too obscene!”

Zhang Xian kept a straight face, looking the picture of righteous indignation. “Obscene? How dare you! This is the orthodox Buddhist supreme art, [Joyous Zen]! I deciphered and annotated it myself. It represents the Grand Dao of Yin and Yang mutual generation. It’s a top-tier method for rapidly boosting cultivation!”

Lin Yinyin grimaced. “Do we really have to? I’ve heard those dual cultivation arts are just ‘Furnace’ techniques. One person steals the other’s cultivation.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. She thought Zhang Xian wanted to use her as a disposable battery. She felt incredibly wronged, but she bit her lip, forcing back a sob. Her hand trembled as she reached out to pick up the discarded jade slip.

If Brother really needs my cultivation… I’ll give it to him.

Seeing her tragic expression, Zhang Xian realized she had misunderstood completely.

“Silly girl! What is going through that head of yours?” He grabbed her hand gently. “This isn’t a plundering technique. This is a true Dual Cultivation secret art. It’s about mutual benefit!”

“Think about it. If the Mountain Zen Monastery practiced predatory arts, the righteous sects would have sieged them into oblivion centuries ago. Clear your mind. Look at the circulation routes. Does it look like theft, or does it look like fusion and regeneration?”

“Really?” Lin Yinyin looked at him suspiciously, sniffing back a tear.

Suppressing her intense embarrassment, she forced herself to examine the diagrams and text again. With her Heavenly Spiritual Root and genius-level comprehension, the initial shock faded, replaced by understanding.

She quickly saw the profundity of [Joyous Zen]. As Zhang Xian said, the core wasn’t theft—it was balance. A perfect cycle of Yin and Yang elevating both partners.

“Okay… I guess you still have a conscience.” She clutched the jade slip to her chest, her face still flushed, but her eyes bright with focus.

They began to study the manual together.

As they read, the spiritual energy within their bodies began to resonate, circulating involuntarily in sync with the method. A strange, intoxicating warmth flowed between them. The temperature in the small cabin rose, and the air grew thick with a heavy, enchanting ambiguity.

Meanwhile, in Xia Chengyan’s cabin.

The Crown Prince had barely spent an hour in his room before he started feeling restless. He got up and wandered down the hall to Lin Xiaozhu’s door.

A wooden sign hung on the handle: DO NOT DISTURB.

“Well, damn.” Xia Chengyan wilted instantly.

“Sigh.” He paced the corridor, bored out of his mind. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “I know! I’ll go hit up Brother Zhang. I need to ask him for some pointers. How the hell does he manage so many beauties without going insane?”

Excited, he jogged over to Zhang Xian’s cabin and knocked.

Knock knock.

No answer.

“Huh? Not here?” Xia Chengyan frowned. “Must be visiting one of his ladies.”

He waited two hours and knocked again. Still nothing.

“Man, he’s got stamina.”

Envious, Xia Chengyan leaned against the wall. His gaze swept idly down the hallway and stopped at Lin Yinyin’s door. His cultivation was high enough to detect the extremely subtle, high-level barrier fluctuations sealing the room.

“Oho? So that’s where he is.”

Xia Chengyan recalled Lin Yinyin—the lively, cute girl in Zhang Xian’s harem. A bit too energetic for my taste, I prefer the refined coolness of my Xiaozhu, but to each their own.

He decided to wait.

One day passed.

Two days passed.

For three straight days, Xia Chengyan would periodically stroll past Lin Yinyin’s cabin. Every single time, he sensed the barrier was still active. The fluctuations hadn’t ceased for a second.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…”

Xia Chengyan shook his head, his face a mixture of shock and pure bro-spect.

“War is knocking at the door, and he’s still going at it? Brother Zhang… you are an absolute legend.”