Chapter 5: Qu Rou’s Flustered Fury

He had admired her for decades?

Qu Rou’s expression turned strange.

Being admired for decades by an Outer Disciple whose Lifespan Limit was approaching… it gave her a very peculiar feeling.

“Are you an Alchemist?”

Qu Rou glanced inside the room.

Li Meng chuckled. “I know a little, just a little!”

Qu Rou looked at the old man before her with speechless exasperation. Knowing ‘a little’ could produce Flawless pills?

She wasted no more words and got down to business. “Do you have a method to resolve the fire poison within my body?”

Li Meng chuckled again, stroking his beard. His eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze becoming somewhat brazen as it swept over Senior Qu’s alluring figure.

Qu Rou’s delicate brows furrowed, a flush of anger coloring her features. Under normal circumstances, she would have taught him a lesson right then and there—made him understand that in the world of cultivation, keeping one’s eyes in check was key to a long life.

“Not difficult!”

Not difficult?

The anger on Qu Rou’s face vanished instantly.

“If this Junior can resolve the fire poison within me, you may state your conditions. I will agree to them all!”

Li Meng chuckled, leisurely stroking his long beard. He was in no hurry to give Qu Rou an answer. He entered the courtyard and settled into his reclining chair.

“Senior Qu, you should be able to see that this Junior’s Lifespan Limit is approaching.”

Qu Rou swept her gaze over Li Meng. She could sense the thick aura of death clinging to this Outer Disciple. This kind of aura only existed on those cultivators about to enter Sitting Death.

“Even a Nascent Soul cultivator would struggle to obtain a single Longevity Fruit. If you seek to prolong your life, I am powerless!”

In the world of cultivation, only one thing could increase lifespan: the priceless, marketless Longevity Fruit. How could a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator like her dare covet such a rare treasure? Moreover, the fire poison within her wasn’t worth a Longevity Fruit anyway.

Li Meng turned his head to look at Senior Qu, bathed in moonlight. She was truly, breathtakingly beautiful. Among all the female cultivators Li Meng had seen, her looks ranked within the top five.

“Life and death are fated. This Junior does not fear death. What this Junior seeks is not merely to live.”

“Then what do you want?”

Qu Rou looked at Li Meng in the reclining chair with confusion.

The smile faded from Li Meng’s face. He narrowed his eyes, appraising Senior Qu’s exquisite form from head to toe once more. In Qu Rou’s eyes, Li Meng appeared rather lecherous now.

“Meeting Senior Qu today is Heaven taking pity on this dying man. I have admired Senior Qu for decades. If Senior Qu could fulfill this dying man’s wish… to taste your fragrant grace… this Junior will definitely help Senior Qu purge the fire poison from your body.”

“You… you…”

Qu Rou’s face flushed with a mixture of shame and fury as she glared at him. She never expected this Li junior would make such a profane request of her.

“You lecherous scoundrel! How dare you speak to me like this? Even if I cripple you here and now, and this goes before the Enforcement Hall, you would only have yourself to blame!”

Qu Rou formed a single-handed seal. Her top-grade magic tool, the “Lingxi Sword,” flew out from her storage pouch. It hovered beside her, spinning ominously, seemingly ready to strike Li Meng down at any moment.

Li Meng also felt the killing intent emanating from Qu Rou.

Qu Rou was a Foundation Establishment Great Perfection cultivator. Killing a sixth-layer Qi Condensation Outer Disciple would be as easy as swatting a fly for her.

Yet, facing the murderously intent Senior Qu, not a trace of fear showed on Li Meng’s face. He met the gaze of the flustered and furious woman with calm composure.

Li Meng’s slightly hoarse voice rang out, unhurried and steady.

“Senior Qu, this Junior doesn’t have long to live anyway. Dying a few years early or a few years late makes no difference. As they say, ‘To die beneath the peony flower, even as a ghost one remains dashing.’ This Junior thinks dying under Senior Qu’s sword wouldn’t be so bad. However… to truly die just like that… this Junior would be quite unwilling.”

A jade vial flew out from Li Meng’s storage pouch. With a wave of his hand, he sent it flying toward Qu Rou.

Qu Rou caught the vial, looking at Li Meng with puzzlement. “What is the meaning of this?”

She pulled out the stopper. A rich medicinal fragrance wafted toward her face.

Fla… Flawless pill?

And a first-grade Soul Nourishing Pill at that?

Qu Rou stared at the little old man in the reclining chair with utter disbelief.

Li Meng chuckled softly.

“Senior Qu possesses extraordinary talent and has hope of reaching the Great Dao. Though this Junior is untalented, he is willing to lend you a helping hand. For as long as this Junior lives, he will prepare all the pills Senior Qu needs for seclusion to break through and form your Golden Core. Top-grade Soul Nourishing Pills. Top-grade Spirit Gathering Pills. Top-grade Dustfall Pills.”

Top-grade Soul Nourishing Pills? Top-grade Spirit Gathering Pills? Top-grade Dustfall Pills?

With each pill name Li Meng uttered, Qu Rou’s heart skipped a beat.

“Dus… Dustfall Pills are third-grade pills! You… you can refine those?”

That was the Dustfall Pill! It was an auxiliary pill for cultivators forming their Golden Core. It could greatly increase the probability of successful core formation. If mortals consumed it, it had the power to revive the dead and regrow flesh on bones! A mid-Foundation Establishment cultivator who consumed one could directly advance one minor stage to late-stage Great Perfection!

And if it was a Top-grade quality Dustfall Pill…

Qu Rou looked at Li Meng with a complex expression. Struggle, disgust… and temptation warred in her eyes.

Li Meng chuckled with confident ease.

“Senior Qu probably won’t be entering Death Seclusion that soon, right? Give this Junior one year!”

“How do I know you’re not deceiving me?”

A slight curve appeared at the corner of Li Meng’s mouth. The fact that Senior Qu asked this meant she had already accepted in her heart! That was the temptation of breaking through to form her Golden Core! In a place like the Joyous Union Sect, ninety-nine percent of female cultivators wouldn’t refuse such an offer!

“Aside from the Dustfall Pill, this Junior can refine the other two types right now. Even with just those two pills, they would significantly increase Senior Qu’s chances of successful core formation.”

The emotions on Qu Rou’s face shifted rapidly once more.

The efficacy of Top-grade Soul Nourishing Pills for cultivators went without saying. No cultivator didn’t wish for their soul spirit to grow stronger. Soul-refining cultivation methods weren’t unheard of, but they all required Soul Nourishing Pills as an aid to make any real progress.

Li Meng stood up from his chair. His thin, withered frame moved toward Senior Qu.

Seeing Li Meng approach, another wave of conflicting emotions washed over Qu Rou’s face. With an icy expression, she recalled her top-grade magic tool. The Lingxi Sword circled around her once before darting back into her storage pouch.

Li Meng walked unhurriedly until he stood before her.

“Senior Qu… shall we continue our discussion inside?”

Qu Rou turned slightly away from him, avoiding his hand, which had moved as if to encircle her waist. Her face was an emotionless mask. She pushed open the bedroom door and walked inside.

Li Meng chuckled softly and followed her into the bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Within the dim confines of his simple bedroom, lit only by faint moonlight filtering through paper windows and a single low-burning oil lamp on a table near his alchemy furnace, the air felt thick—thick with tension, thick with unspoken terms.

Senior Qu stood rigidly near his bed, her back straight as jade, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. The proud line of her neck was taut; she refused to look at him.

Li Meng moved slowly. He approached not like a predator, but like an old gardener tending a rare, frost-touched blossom. He stopped just behind her, close enough that she could feel his presence, the faint scent of herbs and old parchment clinging to him.

He did not touch her immediately. Instead, he spoke, his voice low in the quiet room.

“The fire poison resides deep within your meridians, near your dantian. It festers like embers beneath snow. To draw it out requires… proximity.”

Qu Rou shuddered. A fine tremor ran through her shoulders. She knew what ‘proximity’ meant in this context—in any context involving Dual Cultivation techniques or energy transfer within their sect.

Her pride screamed in protest. Her cultivated aloofness, built over decades as a Foundation Establishment expert, recoiled at submitting herself—her body—to such indignity. To such an old man! An Outer Disciple!

But beneath that icy pride, another part of her stirred. The pragmatic part whispered about Flawless pills. About Top-grade Soul Nourishing Pills already in her possession. About Dustfall Pills—a distant dream now offered on a silver platter.

And deeper still, buried under layers of discipline, something else flickered. A forbidden heat unrelated to poison. Shame burned hotter than any fire poison on her cheeks.

She felt his hand then. Not grasping or demanding; his dry palm settled lightly between her shoulder blades over her robes.

A spark—cool yet penetrating—threaded from his fingertips into her meridians.

She gasped involuntarily, a sharp intake of breath that sounded loud in the stillness. Her body betrayed her will; it arched slightly into that touch, seeking more of that cool relief against the simmering internal heat she’d endured for years. Her lips parted, and she bit down hard on her lower lip, trying to stifle any sound.

This was wrong! This was beneath her!

Yet…

His other hand came up slowly, resting on her hip. Through layers of silk, she felt its warmth, its weight anchoring her.

“Relax, Senior,” his murmur was close to her ear now. “Resistance will only make it more difficult.”

His energy flowed into her—a patient, deliberate stream seeking out knots of scorching toxicity woven around her core. It felt like cool water poured over parched earth. Like winter frost meeting stubborn summer flame.

A moan escaped her clenched teeth despite herself—a soft, broken sound full of humiliation and undeniable relief. Her knees weakened. She felt herself leaning back against him—against that frail-seeming frame that now felt unshakably solid. Her head tilted back, resting against his bony shoulder.

Tears—of fury? Of shame? Of release?—pricked at the corners of her tightly shut eyes.

The moonlight through the window cast their merged shadow upon the floor—a single dark shape where two proud individuals blurred into one act of necessary surrender.

He worked silently, methodically, drawing out threads of poison with meticulous care, turning them into wisps that dissipated harmlessly into the air around them, marked by the faint scent of ozone and burnt sugar.

Time lost meaning, measured only by the slowing tremors coursing through her body, by the gradual easing of tension coiled deep within her dantian, by the ragged rhythm of her own breathing slowly synchronizing with the steady, calm rhythm behind hers.

When the last stubborn knot dissolved, leaving behind a clean ache, a hollow where corruption once festered, she was limp against him, spent, trembling lightly, sweat-dampened hair sticking to the delicate curve of her neck and forehead.

Silence stretched, filled only by the sound of shared breathing and the rustle of fabric as he shifted slightly, supporting her full weight without complaint, without comment, without gloating victory.

After a long moment, he spoke, his voice still low but now carrying a different note—one of finality and completion.

“It is done.”

Those three words hung between them, finalizing the transaction, sealing the pact begun with a vial and ending with this intimate violation of sanctity, personal space, pride—everything she held dear as a cultivator, as a woman.

Slowly, stiffly, she pushed herself upright, away from him.

She did not look at him. Could not. Face aflame, she straightened her robes and smoothed her hair with hands still unsteady.

Without a word, she turned and walked toward the door. Her hand paused on the handle. Back still turned, her voice emerged tight, controlled, yet carrying an undeniable undercurrent of something raw, newly exposed.

“One year! Do not fail me!”

Then the door opened and closed.

Leaving Li Meng alone in the moonlit room, the scent lingering—a mix of herbal ozone and a faint trace of floral perfume.

He smiled, a slow, satisfied smile, touching the empty space where the proud ice sculpture had briefly melted, yielding softness beneath.

The game had begun.