Chapter 96: To Crave Senior Sister’s Strength

“I’ve thought of how Senior Sister can reward me fiercely tonight!”

The boy abruptly pushed open the door, his eyes practically sparkling as he exclaimed excitedly at the immortal.

The autumn breeze was cool. Mo Yuyan turned to look and saw that despite spending so much time in the bath, the boy hadn’t even put on an outer robe—just wrapped himself in a towel and walked out like that.

“By the way, why is this Go board split in half?”

After a moment of awkward silence, He Yimo couldn’t help but ask curiously.

He wasn’t too concerned about his own attire. After all, he still needed Senior Sister’s help to activate the Sword Saint Physique through energy circulation—even if he dressed now, he’d have to undress later anyway. Might as well just stay in the bathrobe for convenience.

At the same time, Mo Yuyan also noticed the completely ruined stone Go board.

She recalled He Yimo’s letter, and her lips twitched slightly as the dead past came back to haunt her.

“It’s nothing. Maybe it was struck by lightning last night.”

Mo Yuyan didn’t bother explaining.

If she told He Yimo that it was because of a letter—that she had angrily split the board in a rage and then foolishly rushed all the way to Snow Village, missing the battle on Wuji Sect’s back mountain—wouldn’t that just make her look stupid?

Meanwhile, He Yimo’s gaze at the immortal was filled with unspoken implications.

“It’s fine. That stone table was too small anyway. When you sat on it, you couldn’t even see the edges of the board properly. Sooner or later, it had to go…”

“Tonight, we won’t play Go. Another day, I’ll just go to the Sect Master’s place and bring back a bigger stone table.”

Mo Yuyan said this casually.

At the same time, she noticed He Yimo’s overly liberating attire.

“So, what wish did you come up with after spending so long in the bath?”

Under the moonlight, the White-Robed Kensei turned around, hands behind her back.

She composed herself, tilting her chin slightly, her beautiful eyes filled with anticipation. But for some reason, the moment her gaze met the bathrobe-clad boy on the steps, her initially serious thoughts began to wander.

Was Mo Yuyan really being too sensitive?

At some point, she vaguely felt that He Yimo’s gaze toward her was… off.

On the surface, his eyes held respect, but deep within lurked desire, fervor, greed, excitement—even something akin to an insatiable hunger for Mo Yimo’s body.

Just imagining such a look made Mo Yuyan’s delicate frame shudder, her fists inexplicably clenching tight.

“He Yimo, let me warn you in advance.”

“Although you performed well last night, earning Senior Sister’s rare admiration, you’d better make your next wish a proper one. Don’t lower yourself in my eyes again with some vulgar joke!”

The White-Robed Kensei crossed her arms in front of her chest, summoning the Frost-Humming Sword between them at some point. Even her narrowed cold gaze carried an oppressive edge.

For a moment, He Yimo was genuinely intimidated.

He had only been coveting the high-purity sword intent within Senior Sister’s body—he hadn’t even looked at her black stockings yet! Why had Mo Yuyan suddenly become so guarded, armed to the teeth?

“Um…”

“Actually, I just wanted Senior Sister to… help me cultivate tonight.”

He Yimo said somewhat sheepishly.

Halfway through his words, Mo Yuyan took a deep breath, biting her lip lightly. Though her immortal face showed a faint blush, the chilling pressure in her eyes was far more pronounced.

“Huh? I literally just want help with cultivation! Why is Senior Sister glaring at me so fiercely?”

He Yimo, thoroughly intimidated by her aura, couldn’t help but relent helplessly.

“Cultivation?”

Mo Yimo blinked, hastily retracting her killing intent.

So he just wanted her to help him cultivate? Mo Yimo had thought He Yimo would demand something outrageous, like… sharing a bed.

“My apologies. It seems Senior Sister misunderstood you…”

Mo Yimo averted her gaze, her immortal face flushing slightly, truly ashamed of her own wayward thoughts.

He Yimo scratched his cheek, pretending to be confused. “Yeah, just cultivation!”

“Senior Sister’s mastery of the sword path is unmatched, and my own cultivation has hit a bottleneck recently. So I wanted Senior Sister to help circulate my energy—maybe even infuse a bit of your sword intent into me to aid in refining my foundation…”

He Yimo spoke with complete seriousness.

Yet soon after, he couldn’t resist adding:

“Senior Sister, what exactly did you think I meant by ‘cultivation’?”

“Nothing…”

Mo Yimo turned her face away, lips pressed together.

But as the night breeze blew past, her disheveled hair allowed He Yimo to catch a glimpse of a well-hidden blush beneath her dark locks.

Still, as the Sword Chief and Senior Sister, Mo Yimo’s composure was exceptional.

Within moments, she took a deep breath and turned back to He Yimo, her serene immortal face showing no trace of the earlier turmoil or shame.

“I can help circulate your energy, but as for infusing sword intent into you…”

Mo Yimo looked He Yimo up and down, analyzing seriously.

Halfway through, she paused, tilting her head slightly, her gaze carrying a hint of condescension.

“He Yimo, you’re only at the Foundation Establishment stage. You might not yet understand the disparity in cultivation.”

“Not only is there a two-stage gap between us, but my Late Nascent Soul cultivation, combined with my innate Frost-Resistant Saint Physique’s refinement… My sword intent is bone-piercingly cold. Even a Divine Transformation-stage swordsman might struggle to withstand it.”

Mo Yimo spoke calmly, sighing as she reined in her haughty demeanor, reminding herself that her junior brother was still new to cultivation. There was no need to blame him for lacking understanding.

With this in mind, she walked over and patted the boy’s head, softening her tone:

“Energy circulation is fine, but sword intent is out of the question for now.”

“Still, don’t lose heart. I’ll keep this sword intent reserved for you, properly refined within me.”

“You’re still young. Train for another decade or so, and if you show promise of reaching the Nascent Soul stage… When you’ve achieved that, Senior Sister will naturally bestow this sword intent upon you.”

Mo Yimo had done her best to gentle her tone, mimicking how Mu Yanran had taught her swordsmanship as a child, careful not to crush He Yimo’s confidence.

If it were any other disciple, she wouldn’t bother with such patience—but who asked her junior brother to accomplish such a great feat last night?

Even if his sword path talent wasn’t exceptional, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more patient with him. Mo Yimo had experienced the comfort of being patted on the head herself. Back then, she had been frustrated at being unable to practice Mu Yanran’s advanced sword techniques, but Mu Yanran had always been patient, smiling and saying that with Mo Yimo’s talent, she’d likely be able to withstand her sword intent in less than three years.

And in truth, Mo Yimo had achieved it—she hadn’t even needed a year and a half to surpass Mu Yanran’s three-year expectation!

Thinking of this, Mo Yimo looked back at He Yimo, her eyes tinged with regret.

[He Yimo, what a pity…]

After so many years, she had finally found a junior brother whose company she genuinely enjoyed—yet in reality, his sword path talent was only mediocre. Though his foundations were solid thanks to his aunt’s training, his comprehension was unremarkable. The sword techniques Mo Yimo had taught him before still took him three or four days just to grasp the basics.

When she was sixteen, she could memorize simple sword manuals at a glance, mastering them within hours!

“Senior Sister, are you underestimating me that much?”

At some point, the boy being patted on the head spoke up abruptly.

His tone suddenly brimmed with confidence as he lightly brushed off Mo Yimo’s hand, his cold eyes glinting with greed as they met the moonlit immortal’s gaze.

!!!

For an instant, Mo Yimo’s pupils constricted sharply before dilating again.

The way the boy had swatted her hand away was exactly like the reckless, arrogant Mo Yimo of ten years ago!

So…

The greed in He Yimo’s eyes had never been directed at Mo Yimo’s body—but at the high-purity sword intent nurtured within her innate Frost-Resistant Saint Physique?!