Chapter 83: Go Ahead, Tattle. Little Aunt Never Said I Couldn’t Date!

“Mmm-hmm~ Mmm-hmm-hmm~♡”

On the seventh floor of Xuanfeng Pavilion, in a lavish private dining room, a certain ahoge-adorned young lady was humming a happy little tune. A Cumin Lamb Skewer, still sizzling faintly, was clutched in one hand, while a glass of bubbly, Western Region specialty sparkling water was in the other. Her cheeks were puffed out with food, her face a picture of pure bliss. Before her, a long table groaned under the weight of a dazzling array of exquisite dishes.

Thankfully, back at her grandparents’ place, Yun Jin had been so flustered listening to He Yimo chat with her grandma and grandpa that she’d only managed a small bowl of millet porridge, barely eating anything substantial. So, now, having arrived in Xizhou City with a rumbling tummy, she was more than ready for this magnificent feast.

Oh, this was the life! After three long years of enduring the Wuji Sect’s communal mess hall food, this was the first time in her entire life she’d ever experienced a banquet fit for an emperor!

“The Bailing Pavilion Master is SO generous~!” Yun Jin gushed internally, her eyes wide with delight. “A fancy dinner like this… it would probably cost more than my entire year’s earnings from commissions…”

“I’ll have to make sure Yimo thanks the Pavilion Master properly later!”

“I just wonder when Young Master He will be done with his business… There’s so much food, I can’t possibly eat it all by myself! It’ll get cold…”

“If only the Deer God were here too!” she thought wistfully. “The Deer God definitely wouldn’t leave a single scrap! I mean… she happily ate all the leftovers from Grandma’s icebox like it was the best thing ever…”

The little ahoge on her head drooped slightly as her happy mood was tinged with a pang of longing for her friends. Suddenly, she blinked, realizing the room felt a little… quieter. The subtle sounds of someone else eating, or rather, drinking, had stopped.

“Huh?” Yun Jin looked around, puzzled. “Where’d that big sister in black clothes go? The one who was secretly sipping wine in the corner a minute ago?”

(Meanwhile, back on the top floor of Xuanfeng Pavilion, in the opulent private chamber…)

He Yimo, still holding the Pavilion Master in a chokehold with the dagger at her mouth, noticed the flicker of anger, yet undeniable confusion, in the black-clad attendant’s eyes.

He, too, was starting to feel that something about this whole situation was… deeply off. But he’d already flipped the table, metaphorically speaking. There was no backing down now.

The red-gowned woman beneath him suddenly patted his arm urgently.

“Mmph… Mmphh…” Muffled, uncomfortable sounds escaped her lips, which were still being pressed by the dagger He Yimo held. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and, dare he say it, looking rather… wronged.

Realization dawned on He Yimo. Right. He was demanding to know Yun Jin’s whereabouts, but with a dagger practically shoved down her throat, how was she supposed to answer? Tsk… `Should’ve just held it to her neck. Amateur.`

He Yimo took a deep breath, then shot a sharp glance at the black-clad woman still standing guard at the door, sword drawn but making no move to intervene. She was just watching them warily.

“If anything, and I mean anything, happens to Yun Jin,” He Yimo snarled, his voice low and menacing, “you can kiss Bailing Pavilion’s business goodbye. Forever.”

With that, he momentarily eased the pressure of the dagger, but before she could gasp for air, his other hand shot out and clamped over her mouth, pinching it shut. “Understood, bitch?”

The red-gowned woman’s body gave another distinct, almost convulsive shiver. It really seemed like that particular word had a special effect on her. She nodded weakly. Only then did He Yimo release her mouth, slowly withdrawing the dagger, its blood-red scales now coated in a shimmering, sticky layer of her saliva, a silvery thread connecting it to her lips.

But just as the dagger was halfway out, the red-gowned woman’s expression underwent a startling transformation. A cold, predatory smirk twisted her lips. Before He Yimo could react, she lunged forward, her head snapping up, and bit down hard on the flat of the dagger blade, like a rabid dog—!

CRACK!

A jolt of alarm shot through He Yimo. He tried to yank the dagger free, but her bite force was terrifyingly strong. In a fraction of a second, the blood-red scales covering the dagger shattered under the pressure of her teeth.

CRUNCH—SNAP!

With the protective scales gone, the underlying Xuan Iron of the dagger itself proved no match. It snapped cleanly in two within her mouth.

“?!” This… this abstract dagger-biting operation… was definitely not something He Yimo had anticipated. He was, for a moment, completely stunned. He tried to tighten his chokehold, to wrestle her back onto the chaise longue, but this time, the light-golden phoenix eyes behind her Crimson Kite Mask blazed with a dangerous, ferocious light.

Ignoring the suffocating pressure on her throat, she shot her right hand up, her elbow bending backwards at an unnatural angle. Her fingernails, which He Yimo vaguely recalled seeing a glint of gold on, snagged his collar with pinpoint accuracy.

“What kind of inhuman move is THAT…?!” He Yimo gasped. He couldn’t believe that, even while being choked, she not only wasn’t incapacitated but could still unleash such a burst of agile, powerful movement. Now, with her gripping his collar, he could only brace himself, trying to maintain his balance as they wrestled for control.

“Is this your only trick, little darling?” the red-gowned woman rasped, her voice surprisingly steady despite the arm around her neck. A cold, confident smirk played on her lips as she leaned back slightly against the chaise longue. “Didn’t your precious Little Aunt ever teach you? When a cultivator reaches a certain level, one can survive for hours without breathing, relying solely on spiritual energy.”

He Yimo was straining with all his might, the veins on his left arm bulging, yet the woman in his grip seemed almost… unbothered. As she finished speaking, before He Yimo could even think of a counter, her left hand shot out and clamped onto his choking arm, while her right hand, still gripping his collar, yanked hard. Beneath her slit red dress, her bare feet suddenly dug into the floorboards, the arches of her feet flaring with a golden phoenix-wing pattern. Her toes gripped the wood like talons, anchoring her.

At the same time, her seemingly slender arms surged with terrifying strength. Using her anchored feet as a pivot, she explosively stood up from the chaise longue, wrenching He Yimo forward, and, in a move of impossible, graceful brutality, executed a perfect over-the-shoulder throw, sending him sailing over her head.

“SON OF A— WHAT IS THIS MONSTER STRENGTH?!” He Yimo yelled, his eyes wide as the world spun around him. He flew in a graceful arc, right over her head, and then crashed down hard onto his back, shattering a nearby ornate red precious-wood table into splinters.

CRASH—BOOM!!!

A moment of ringing silence, then the floorboards beneath him groaned in protest.

CRACK! Another sickening thud as the floor itself gave way slightly, a spiderweb of cracks appearing around his impact point. The force of the landing left He Yimo momentarily dazed, winded. He coughed, groaning, instinctively trying to push himself up. But as his vision cleared, he found himself looking up, from his floored perspective, at a pair of stunning, slender legs encased in a swirling red dress—

“Oof!” Before he could even fully process, the red-gowned woman reacted instantly. With a swift, almost casual lift of her leg, she brought her bare foot down, planting it firmly on He Yimo’s chest, pinning him back down. This time, she didn’t use enough force to crack the floor further, just enough to ensure he couldn’t get up, couldn’t struggle.

“Young Master He~♡” she purred, her voice light and teasing, though her eyes still held a dangerous glint. She leaned over him, a picture of triumphant dominance. “Did you really think this Pavilion Master could survive, let alone thrive, running a forbidden drug business in the treacherous Western Regions for so many years… without a little real skill~?” She lightly twisted her foot on his chest, not enough to cause real pain, just a deliberate, provocative friction.

In a matter of moments, their positions had completely, utterly reversed. Now, He Yimo was the one pinned beneath her foot, looking up as the red-gowned woman, the Bailing Pavilion Master, gazed down at him from behind her Crimson Kite Mask, her phoenix eyes filled with the playful, slightly cruel amusement of a cat toying with a mouse.

Because of the angle, with him lying flat on his back and her standing over him, her red dress billowed slightly, and He Yimo found himself with an… unobstructed view up into the silken shadows beneath. He could clearly see her pale, slender legs disappearing into the crimson fabric.

Jingle… jingle… The familiar, melodic sound of tiny bells chimed softly, seemingly emanating from his own chest where her foot rested. Yuan Xinyao suddenly froze, her phoenix eyes widening slightly in what looked like… panic? She glanced down. He Yimo’s face was mostly obscured by the fall of her red dress. From this angle, while he could certainly get an eyeful of her legs, he couldn’t see the actual foot pressing on his chest, nor the bells that were, apparently, still tied to her ankle.

Realizing this, Yuan Xinyao’s demeanor shifted again. She slowly, deliberately, squatted down, one foot still firmly planted on He Yimo’s chest. As she did, her red dress completely enveloped his head, plunging him into a world of soft fabric and her intoxicating scent.

This… this scene… made the black-clad attendant still frozen at the doorway blush furiously, her eyes darting away, completely flustered. Yuan Xinyao, however, seemed utterly unbothered. Using the cover of her dress over He Yimo’s face to shield her actions from his direct line of sight, she leaned forward and, with deft fingers, quietly untied the offending bells from the ankle of the foot pressing him down.

Once the bells were off and safely tucked into her storage ring, Yuan Xinyao’s lips curved into a sly, teasing smile. Her voice, muffled slightly by the fabric, purred, “Young Master He is so quiet… Are you perhaps… mesmerized… by what you’re seeing under this Pavilion Master’s skirt~?”

“You…!” He Yimo grunted, his voice also muffled. All he could see was the crimson haze of her dress, the enticing outline of her legs, and not much else.

“Young Master He… Did you see anything… nice~?” Yuan Xinyao asked again, her voice dripping with amusement as she straightened up, the dress falling away from his face. She then deliberately circled around him, repositioning herself so that when he looked up, he was looking directly into her eyes.

“…….” He Yimo remained stubbornly silent. He was utterly confused by her rapid mood swings and had absolutely no idea how to respond to such a… shameless question.

Yuan Xinyao now stood with her right foot planted firmly between He Yimo’s spread legs. Her left foot, bare and delicate, was once again resting on his chest, gently, almost playfully, twisting and rubbing against him. Unlike before, when his face was covered, He Yimo now had a first-person, unobstructed view of her looking down at him, a tantalizing, sweet scent of her makeup and perfume drifting down to him.

“Young Master He…” she purred, leaning down slightly, her voice a silken whisper. “What color did you see~?” As she spoke, she nonchalantly spat out the two broken pieces of the dagger onto the floor beside his head.

He Yimo remained silent for a long, tense moment. Finally, he closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face, and muttered reluctantly, “B-Black… Black…”

Yuan Xinyao’s phoenix eyes gleamed with amusement. Keeping her foot pressed lightly on his chest, she leaned down further, propping her right elbow on her left knee, and playfully pinched He Yimo’s cheek. “Such a pity, little darling~ Black is just… safety pants~ For your viewing pleasure, of course~♡”

“Oh…” He Yimo mumbled, not daring to say anything else, just nodding obediently.

Beneath the Crimson Kite Mask, the Pavilion Master’s eyes narrowed speculatively, her gaze suddenly flicking down to He Yimo’s lower body. “Feeling a little… disappointed, are we~?”

“No…”

“Reeeeally~?” Finding no evidence of a… reaction… down there, Yuan Xinyao’s playful smile gradually faded. Seeing that her teasing wasn’t having the desired effect (or any effect, really), her interest waned. She let out a soft, almost disappointed hmph, and finally removed her foot from his chest. She crossed her arms, the red silk of her Western Region-style gown settling around her, and the fierce, playful glint in her phoenix eyes softened, replaced by a hint of… something else. Tenderness, perhaps?

“Young Master He, don’t look so… dead inside~” she murmured, her voice losing its earlier edge. “Are you afraid you won’t leave Bailing Pavilion alive today?”

“…….” He Yimo remained silent for a moment, then, with an air of utter resignation, he finally asked, his voice flat, “Where… is Senior Sister Yun Jin?”

“Seventh floor, Xiangsi Residence” Yuan Xinyao replied, letting out a huff of what sounded suspiciously like genuine exasperation, as if she were the one who’d been greatly wronged. “The little girl should be stuffing her face quite happily by now, I imagine.” Honestly! The nerve! She’d raised this little piglet for more than ten years, and in less than a month out in the world, he gets himself all worked up and practically stolen by some wild woman from the outside! And then he has the audacity to threaten her with a knife for this… this common village girl! What was SO damn special about these “righteous” human immortal sect girls anyway?! First Mo Yuyan, now this Yun Jin… Ugh! In her opinion, as a proud member of the Yao race, all the “righteous” human cultivators she’d encountered over the past century were nothing but a bunch of hypocritical, disgusting maggots and scum beneath their pretty, sanctimonious exteriors!

“…?” He Yimo blinked, looking thoroughly confused. He glanced past the red-gowned woman towards the black-clad attendant, Jinyan, who just shrugged helplessly, her expression clearly indicating she had absolutely no idea what had just transpired or why her Pavilion Master and this young man had suddenly started fighting.

“Honestly,” the Pavilion Master scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Did you really think, after I gifted you tens of thousands of taels worth of priceless elixirs for free, that I’m so desperately poor I’d need to sell off some little country girl for profit? Use your brain, boy!” She was clearly still miffed that He Yimo had actually believed she’d harm Yun Jin.

“Then… Then why did you lie to me about it…?” He Yimo mumbled, scratching his head as he slowly, painfully, pushed himself up from the floor, using the overturned chaise longue for support. Thinking back… yeah, the Pavilion Master had a point. He’d just been so paranoid about the original story’s timeline and Yun Jin’s “fated” death that he’d overreacted. His own actions in changing the timeline had made him jumpy, terrified that one wrong move would lead to the cute newbie guide dying right in front of him.

“I just wanted to… test you, that’s all,” Yuan Xinyao said with a casual shrug, though her voice was a little softer now.

“Test me?”

“Mmm…” Yuan Xinyao’s voice trailed off, becoming almost inaudible. Beneath the Crimson Kite Mask, her lips pursed in what looked suspiciously like… embarrassment? She couldn’t very well admit she’d been trying to gauge his relationship with Yun Jin, to see if he’d already found a sweetheart, could she? After a moment of awkward silence, she cleared her throat and quickly improvised, “Test… Young Master He’s actual cultivation level, of course! To see just how much skill you’ve been hiding from your poor, unsuspecting Little Aunt all these years!”

“You… You couldn’t have just asked me?!” He Yimo sighed, rubbing his temples again. This woman’s dramatic, over-the-top methods were giving him a serious headache. The rumors were true; the Bailing Pavilion Master really did have a twisted sense of humor, cooking up such a vicious lie just to “test” him. Honestly… did his cultivation level really matter that much to her? Was it worth provoking him to such an extreme?

“If I asked you directly, would you really have told me the truth?” the red-gowned woman scoffed, settling back onto her (now slightly damaged) chaise longue.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He Yimo shot back, genuinely perplexed by her logic.

“If you were truly so willing to be honest with this Pavilion Master,” Yuan Xinyao purred, crossing her legs elegantly beneath her robes again (the bells were definitely gone this time), one delicate foot beginning to swing playfully, “then why, oh why, would you be willing to risk your life… for a mere Senior Sister you barely know? Hmm~?”

“I…” He Yimo took a deep breath, completely stumped. She had him there. “Okay, fine, you’re right,” he finally admitted, a reluctant sigh escaping his lips. “I… I do kind of like her. A little.”

“I’m going to tell your Little Aunt about this!” the red-gowned woman declared suddenly, her voice sharp. Beneath the mask, her lips puffed out in a pout, her phoenix eyes narrowing with a distinct, unmistakable glint of… jealousy?

He Yimo’s heart leaped into his throat for a split second. But then, a thought occurred to him. He relaxed, a confident, almost cocky smirk spreading across his face. “So what if you tell Little Aunt?” he shrugged nonchalantly. “All Little Aunt told me was to cultivate well at Wuji Sect. She never said I couldn’t bring a few… souvenirs… back to the Grand Tutor’s Fu when I’m done, did she_?_”

“A few girls?! So you like more than just that Yun Jin?!” Yuan Xinyao’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her hands clenching into fists. This… This was too much stimulus for her poor, delicate heart to handle!

“Isn’t that perfectly normal?” He Yimo countered, completely unfazed, fully embracing his ‘spoiled young master’ persona. “My Little Aunt is constantly being set up on blind dates back at the Fu! If she doesn’t want to get married and continue the family line, does that mean I can’t do my duty and provide some heirs for the He family? I’m sure the old masters at the Fu are practically dying for some chubby little great-grandchildren by now!” He spread his hands wide, his tone utterly reasonable, completely fearless.

However, at the mention of “continuing the family line” and “providing heirs,” the playful swing of the red-gowned woman’s foot suddenly stopped. Her gaze turned icy, her expression unreadable. She just stared at He Yimo, her silence more unnerving than any outburst.

“Young Master He certainly has his life all planned out, I see,” Yuan Xinyao said at last, her voice dangerously soft, each word dripping with sarcasm. “So, you go to Wuji Sect to cultivate… primarily so you can pick up a few pretty girls to bring home for an… orgy … and ensure the continuation of the Grand Tutor’s Fu’s noble lineage?” She enunciated each syllable with chilling precision. By the end of her sentence, she let out a short, sharp, almost bitter laugh, shaking her head as if in disbelief. “I really didn’t see it before. Young Master He, so young, yet already shouldering such… heavy responsibilities! How admirable!”

“Hey, the young master of the Li Fu next door got married when he was fourteen!” He Yimo shot back defensively. “Me only starting to date at sixteen is already considered late in our circles!” He shrugged again, his patience clearly wearing thin. “So? Can I go now?” Honestly, this was just the Bailing Pavilion Master, a merchant. He really didn’t want to get into a debate about his family planning and romantic life with her.

The red-gowned woman’s lips twitched, but she managed to force a semblance of a smile. She nodded curtly. “Be on your way~”

“However, Young Master He,” she added, her voice turning sugary sweet, yet laced with a venomous undertone, “do take care of your… health… when you return to your sect. You wouldn’t want to end up like some… promiscuous… Holy Sons I know… ruining their kidneys at such a tender age! Always having to rely on… external aids… to, shall we say, perform!”

“If you become… impotent… I imagine the old masters at the Fu would be quite… displeased. They might even beat you to death, you know.” As she watched He Yimo’s retreating back, her painted lips pressed into a thin line, her body trembling slightly with suppressed rage. Her hands clenched into fists. The more she replayed He Yimo’s words in her mind, the more it felt like her own carefully raised, prize-winning little piglet had been let out of the pen and had immediately gone off to happily root around in someone else’s cabbage patch! And the worst part? Her precious little piglet, whom she had painstakingly fattened and nurtured for so many years… had apparently been “deflowered” by some random cabbage in less than a month! The injustice! The sheer, infuriating unfairness of it all! Aaaaaargh!

(Meanwhile, high above Northfall Snow Mountain, on a massive, slowly cruising Spirit Boat…)

The White-Robed Kensei, Mo Yuyan, landed gracefully on the deck of the spirit boat with a soft thud of her sword, her gaze sweeping over the returning Wuji Sect disciples.

“Where is Yimo?” she asked, her voice cool and clear.

“He Yimo?” Several disciples scratched their heads, looking confused. They all shook their heads, muttering that they hadn’t seen him. Mo Yuyan’s icy gaze then settled on a lone figure leaning against the railing at the far end of the deck, a young woman in a striking red dress, seemingly lost in thought as she gazed out at the passing scenery.

“Jiang Jinyue,” Mo Yuyan’s voice was sharp. “You didn’t leave with He Yimo?”

“Nope,” Jiang Jinyue replied, turning around, blinking her captivating eyes with an air of perfect innocence.

Mo Yuyan’s brow furrowed slightly. She brought a hand to her chin, her expression thoughtful.

“When we were all leaving Snow Village,” Jiang Jinyue began, a hint of a pout forming on her lips as she recalled the image of He Yimo holding Yun Jin’s hand, “He Yimo said he still had some… things… to take care of. So, only he and Yun Jin stayed behind on the mountain Together.” She delivered this piece of information with just the right amount of subtle insinuation, clearly trying to stir up trouble.

But instead of reacting with anger or jealousy, Mo Yuyan’s already pale, ice-queen complexion seemed to turn several shades whiter. A flicker of genuine alarm crossed her usually impassive features. “But… I just finished a complete sweep of Snow Village and the surrounding areas myself. I didn’t see any sign of He Yimo… or Yun Jin… anywhere.”

Jiang Jinyue: “Huh?!”