Chapter 61: Senior Sister Have Mercy! I Swear I Won’t Peek Again!

“Ugh… Utterly useless trash!”

Deep within the snowy pine forest behind Northfall Mountain, the white-haired fairy glared dagger at the three surviving cultists. “Nine Foundation Establishment Miyue cultists… took this long… and only killed ten Wuji Sect disciples?! And you couldn’t even finish off the most important one, Chen Jianxin?!”

Her lips, thin and pale beneath the black silk mask, trembled with repressed fury. The sheer incompetence was infuriating. “Such a simple task! I practically gift-wrapped the opportunity for you, and you still couldn’t handle it! Hmph! If it weren’t for the barrier restricting higher cultivation levels on Northfall, d’you really think garbage like you would even get this mission?!”

Before her, the three cultists trembled on their knees, practically dissolving into puddles of fear.

“M-Milady Fairy! Y-Y-You… you don’t understand!” one stammered, wringing his hands. “That Chen Jianxin… h-he’s… he’s not human! Aaaah!”

“Y-Yeah! Yeah! He just… WHOOOSH!… powered up outta nowhere!” another chimed in frantically, wild eyes darting around. “One guy, chasing seven of us! We only survived ’cause we ran faster than scared rabbits! Barely escaped with our pathetic lives! Really!” They gestured wildly, trying desperately to convey the terror. But faced with definite failure, explanations were futile. The cold eyes behind the fairy’s mask remained utterly unmoved.

Seeing her expression darken further, they kowtowed rapidly, banging their foreheads against the frozen ground. “An-And! It wasn’t just Chen Jianxin! There was another disciple… super weird too!”

“Another one?” The fairy raised a delicate eyebrow, her voice dangerously soft.

“Yes! Yes! That one… gotta be He Yimo! Chen Jianxin at least pretended to be weak first, y’know? Got pushed into a corner, then powered up for the comeback! Standard stuff, right? But this He Yimo guy?! Throws the damn playbook out the window! The moment he showed up, he was fightin’ like a late-stage Foundation Establishment expert! And his methods… so dirty! Way sneakier and more shameless than us evil cultists! Honest!”

“Hah…?” Hearing that familiar name for the third time tonight, the fairy’s anger slowly gave way to a deep, unsettling suspicion. She rested her chin thoughtfully on her hand, recalling what both Jiang Jinyue and Mo Yuyan had mentioned about this particular boy just moments ago.

The cultists, sensing a slight shift, pressed on desperately. “Milady, you really don’t know! This kid… he ain’t like no righteous cultivator! Moves like a ghost, right? And get this… he reeks of the Mother’s Blessing! Slaps on a hood, blends into our crowd, and poof! Can’t tell ‘im from a good wuji sect!”

“Wait.” Mu Yanran’s eyes narrowed, locking onto the key phrase. “You said… he has the Mother’s Blessing?” Her previous disgust was momentarily replaced by shock. “Which Mother? Western Territories? Eastern?”

“Which Mother?! Duh! Our Miyue Sect’s Life Mother God, of course!”

“…So, he’s actually a Miyue cultist?” Mu Yanran pressed, confusion warring with suspicion.

“We dunno!” the cultists wailed in unison. “We been in the Sect for years, right? Never seen his face before! Not once!”

“Then how could he possibly have a connection to the Life Mother God?” Mu Yanran demanded, frustrated.

“THAT’S WHAT WE’RE SAYING! WE DON’T KNOW!” one nearly sobbed. “He’s not officially Miyue, right? But it feels like… like he knows more about the Sect than we do! He’s just… he’s really… that special kind of special… Y’know? That kinda… indescribable…?”

“…Are you even listening to the nonsense you’re spouting?” Mu Yanran sighed, rubbing her temples. It was all gibberish… and yet, frighteningly, their vague, confusing descriptions echoed Jiang Jinyue’s earlier cryptic warnings almost perfectly. Mu Yanran felt lost. Just as Jiang Jinyue and Mo Yuyan had implied, the deeper one looked into this ‘He Yimo’, the blurrier his true nature became. Lost in thought, she almost forgot Chen Jianxin was supposed to be the damn primary target.

“Milady Fairy! That sword Kensei… the one with the Mo surname… she’s heading this way! Fast!” one of the cultists suddenly yelped, shivering violently as the distant, oppressive sword intent washed over the forest. “Th-This place ain’t safe! If you got more questions, Milady, c-can we maybe… talk about it after we get outta here?! P-Please?!” They looked at her with desperate, pleading eyes.

But the white-haired fairy before them remained silent, unmoving.

FWOOSH~ An ice-blue sword blade began to coalesce slowly from the shadows beneath her flowing black sleeves.

Seeing this, the cultists scrambled backwards, their faces draining of all color. “M-Milady! Y-You… You wouldn’t…! Discarding us after we’re useless…?! A-Are all of you from Wuji Sect— from disciples to fairies— SO DAMN SHAMELESS?! AAAH!”

“Hmph. ‘Discarding you’?” Mu Yanran scoffed coldly, a cruel amusement glinting in her eyes. “How crude.” She raised the shimmering ice sword in her right hand. Her left hand formed a specific mudra, gently brushing two fingers along the blade, infusing it with a faint, golden holy seal imprint.

“My Junior Sister is about to arrive…” she explained silkily, her voice devoid of emotion. “Think of this as… me simply cleaning up the Miyue Sect’s… mess… for you.” She lifted her chin slightly, her icy, emotionless eyes reflecting a pale golden sheen. With a flick of her wrist, the sword danced—SHINK! SLASH! THUD!—and three heads rolled silently onto the snow.

(A few moments later, back on the main path through the snowy pines…)

Mu Yanran walked calmly, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Behind her, controlled by her spiritual energy, her ice sword silently dragged the three fresh corpses through the snow, leaving dark trails. Up ahead, bathed in the flickering firelight of the campsite, He Yimo stood awkwardly amidst the crowd, looking utterly lost.

“S-Senior Sister…” he stammered, keeping his voice low, acutely aware of all the eyes on them. “Th-There are… kinda a lot of people watching… Is… Is taking my clothes off really appropriate right now…?” He risked a glance around, forcing a polite, albeit extremely strained, smile.

He spoke quietly, almost whispering, so only Mo Yuyan could hear.

“Oh? Is that so?” Mo Yuyan replied, her voice equally soft, yet laced with sharp amusement. “You actually possess a sense of shame? How surprising.” Despite being the center of attention, she seemed completely unfazed, even entertained. She continued playfully tapping the flat of her Yin Frost Sword against his cheek, tilting his chin higher. “I was worried sick about you, flew across several mountains to save you… yet the moment I appeared, before I even landed, your eyes were glued to my legs. Shamelessly staring. Even now, standing right in front of you… that peeking little mind of yours shows absolutely no sign of restraint…”

“Hmph. He Yimo,” she continued, her voice dropping to a silken whisper only he could catch, “I was beginning to think you had no shame at all~.” Halfway through, she couldn’t help but bite her lip, suppressing a flicker of genuine annoyance. Her beautiful eyes glared at him, a complex mix of concern and simmering resentment swirling within them. “Why don’t you tell me, hmm~? What fascinating things did you see under Senior Sister’s skirt?”

“N-No! Nothing! I didn’t see anything!” He Yimo shook his head rapidly, panicked. “S-Senior Sister, you know me! I deeply respect you! It’s… it’s just my eyes! They have their own target-locking logic! They’re just… uncontrollably drawn to… beautiful things! Yeah!”

“Is that right~?” Mo Yuyan arched a perfect eyebrow, her tone dripping with sarcastic sweetness. “Perhaps the angle wasn’t good enough? Should Senior Sister fly a little higher for you next time? Give you a better view~?”

“Okay! Okay! I was wrong! I’m sorry! Stop teasing me, p-please…!” He Yimo finally surrendered, bowing his head in defeat, practically whimpering.

But unlike their usual banter back on Ranmo Peak, the icy displeasure on the Sword Kensei’s face didn’t melt away with his apology this time. Seeing his genuine embarrassment, Mo Yuyan crossed her arms, a cold smirk playing on her lips, a knowing, dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Since you admit you were wrong…” she declared, her voice suddenly clear and loud, easily audible to all the curious disciples gathered around. “Then hurry up and take off your clothes. Let Senior Sister properly check you for injuries.”

The command hung in the air. Instantly, all the disciples stared, their expressions shifting to varying degrees of confusion and awkwardness, sensing the incredibly strange tension between the boy and the renowned Sword Kensei.

“W-Wait… Senior Sister, you… you actually want me to strip? Here?!” He Yimo gulped, feeling a sudden chill despite the nearby fire as Mo Yuyan’s cold gaze pinned him in place.

Mo Yuyan retracted her Yin Frost Sword. She glanced briefly at Yun Jin and Jiang Jinyue, who were watching with flushed, expectant faces, then turned back to He Yimo, her voice flat. “Don’t overthink it. This is merely a routine check. As your Senior Sister, it is my duty to confirm you haven’t sustained any injuries.”

“But…” For a moment, bathed in everyone’s stares, He Yimo felt a wave of burning shame wash over his cheeks. Mo Yuyan’s gaze felt like it could pierce straight through his clothes, scrutinizing every inch of his skin. Oh great. Now he knew what it felt like to be publicly teased and examined like this. Karma’s a bitch.

“He Yimo,” the Kensei warned coolly, her voice leaving no room for argument, “I’ll give you three seconds to remove your upper garments. Your physical safety is not a trivial matter. Don’t test my patience with childishness.” Her eyes made it chillingly clear: this was NOT a joke.

He Yimo’s lip twitched. Taking a deep breath, he grit his teeth and quickly unfastened his outer robe, pulling it off along with the inner long-sleeved shirt underneath in one swift, resigned motion.

Gasp! Under the flickering firelight, the youth’s well-defined, muscular torso was suddenly bare for all to see. A collective murmur of admiration rippled through the Wuji Sect disciples.

“Woooow…”

But Mo Yuyan, standing before him, remained impassive, her beautiful eyes calmly surveying his physique without a flicker of surprise or emotion.

“…What happened to your arm?” Her tone didn’t change, but her gaze sharpened, focusing intently. She stepped closer, reaching out a delicate, jade-like hand to gently touch a patch of alarming blackish-red dried blood smeared across his left bicep.

“Th-That’s… That’s blood from fighting the cultists earlier!” He Yimo explained quickly, feeling a surge of guilt. “It’s… it’s not mine!”

Beside him, the Sword Kensei leaned in slightly, examining his arm closely. After a silent moment, Mo Yuyan straightened up, seeming slightly relieved. “Hmph. I thought your arm was broken. Turns out it’s just someone else’s blood.”

“S-Senior Sister… Are you done checking now…?” He Yimo asked hopefully, clutching his bare arms, feeling utterly mortified.

But the White-Robed Kensei showed no signs of stopping. Mo Yuyan clasped her hands behind her back and began to slowly circle him, inspecting his body with unnerving focus. Occasionally, she’d reach out and lightly trace the faint lines of muscle on his abdomen or back. “Hm~…”

“Don’t be impatient. Let Senior Sister conduct a thorough examination,” she murmured airily. After another slow circuit, she stopped directly in front of him again, resting one hand flat against his sculpted abs. She didn’t even look up, her gaze still intently studying the contours of his muscles.

For He Yimo, it was agonizing minutes of intense scrutiny. The closer Mo Yuyan got, the more nervous and sensitive he felt, terrified he might accidentally lose control of his… unique bloodline reactions and reveal something strange to her watchful eyes. Please don’t notice, please don’t notice…

Unbeknownst to him, Mo Yuyan had already circled around behind him. Hidden from the view of the others, she subtly formed a two-fingered mudra. Then, without warning—Poke!—she jabbed her fingers sharply into a specific soft spot on his lower back, just above the hip.

“Nnngh—!” A jolt, cold and electric, shot through He Yimo’s body as a thread of icy spiritual energy entered him from her fingertips. He gasped, clamping his jaw shut, desperately fighting the urge to make any embarrassing noises in front of everyone. Wh-What was that?!

Standing close behind him, Mo Yuyan kept her left fingers pressed firmly into that sensitive spot. At the same time, she leaned forward slightly, bringing her lips right next to his ear. A soft, cool breath ghosted over his skin. “Nowww~…” she whispered silkily, “Do you understand the feeling… of being publicly teased~? Hmmm~?”

“S-Senior Sister, mercy! D-Don’t poke there…! I swear I won’t peek again! Please!” He Yimo pleaded silently, his lips pressed tight, too mortified to speak aloud.

Mo Yuyan narrowed her eyes, thoroughly enjoying the sight of the usually smug youth squirming, trapped between public shame and the strange sensation from her touch. A cold, satisfied smile touched her lips. “Tell me, Yimo~… Do you know what acupoint Senior Sister is currently… stimulating~?”

“This disciple… has n-no idea…” he choked out internally.

“Oh dear~. It seems… all those sword manuals I gave you back on Ranmo Peak… you didn’t memorize them very carefully at all, did you~?” Mo Yuyan’s voice held a hint of mock disappointment, but the curve of her smile deepened. The insinuation made He Yimo tense up even more, guilt churning in his stomach. As she spoke, the pressure from her fingertips increased slightly. More icy energy flowed into him, making his muscles clench, his teeth grind together.

“Well… it’s alright if you don’t remember,” she continued softly. “My Senior Sister also taught me once… The manuals list countless acupoints, yes… but ultimately, true understanding only comes from… personal experience! Only then does the memory truly stick~!” Mo Yuyan chuckled softly, a purely delightful sound that sent shivers down He Yimo’s spine. Her fingers shifted slightly, teasingly tracing the area around the initial point. Simultaneously, her other hand brushed back a stray strand of hair from her face as she leaned even closer, blowing a gentle, cool puff of air onto the back of his neck.

Hnngh~! A soft groan escaped He Yimo despite himself. The tips of his ears flushed bright red.

“Remember this well, He Yimo…” Mo Yuyan whispered, her voice dropping to an instructive, yet still strangely intimate tone. “This acupoint… only men possess it. It is called the Kidney Source. Normally, injecting a small amount of female spiritual energy here can react with the Yang essence within your body… temporarily stimulating kidney metabolism… and, of course,” she added with deliberate casualness, “it can also significantly enhance… certain functions that you men seem to care so much about~.”

Despite the rather… delicate nature of the acupoint’s function, Mo Yuyan discussed it with detached, clinical precision, her face perfectly serene as she delivered the information directly into his ear. But when she got to the important part—the negative effects—she paused, a chillingly beautiful, cold smile gracing her lips.

“—However! The Kidney Source is also exceptionally sensitive… and fragile. If one were to accidentally inject an excessive amount of spiritual energy…” she let the threat hang in the air for a moment, “…minor consequences include impotence and kidney deficiency… Severe consequences involve complete disruption of vital essence… and the utter failure of half your kidney function. Permanently.”

GULP! Hearing that, He Yimo instantly went ramrod straight, becoming unprecedentedly still and obedient under Mo Yuyan’s touch.

Finding his reaction highly amusing, Mo Yuyan blew softly on his ear again while simultaneously sending another tiny pulse of icy energy from her fingertips. The dual stimuli made He Yimo tremble visibly, his body hypersensitive, jaw clenched tight. Seeing him squirming with barely restrained agony and utter mortification, Mo Yuyan felt a deep sense of satisfaction. The lingering resentment from all his past teasing was finally being avenged. A cold, predatory smirk, revealing the hidden sadistic nature beneath the Kensei’s icy facade, spread across her face.

But just as Mo Yuyan was thoroughly enjoying her little ‘lesson’ pressed against He Yimo’s back, a slightly bewildered, curious female voice suddenly drifted over from the nearby pine forest:

“Yuyan…? What exactly… are you two doing over there…?”