Having no other choice, Fei Ling reluctantly lay back on the bed. "I told you already," she muttered, her voice low, trying to hide the defeated tone that slipped through, "I just want to experience your technique."
Jian studied her carefully. On the surface she looked submissive, but beneath that mask he caught flickers of malice buried deep beneath her pride.
She wasn't here by chance. Still, there was no direct killing intent, no immediate threat.
She decided to take the gamble.
The next moment he pressed his palm lightly against her back. "Very well," he murmured, "let's get to it now shall we."
Channeling his spiritual energy once more, Jian let it flow into his fingertips, each one glowing faintly with that yellowish-red hue. Slowly, methodically, he began to trace patterns along her bare skin.
This time the effect was entirely different.
Fei Ling's body quivered and shivered at the slightest touch. Every stroke of his glowing fingers sent shivers rolling down her spine, forcing her to bite her lip to stifle the sound that threatened to release.
Though she tensed her muscles with all her willpower, the protective layer of spiritual Qi she once relied on was now nonexistent.
Jian smirked at her futile struggle. To him, her hardened muscles were no more than cotton armor against a bullet—utterly useless.
Leaning in close, his voice dropped to a murmur, carrying a mocking, provocative edge.
"You're trembling?"
He let the words linger before continuing, tone sharp with sincere care.
"I don't know why you followed me, but from the way your body is built, it's clear you've spent years tempering it, training it relentlessly whenever the chance arises. I am not your enemy. So why not abandon your little mission for once, and simply enjoy the massage? Opportunities like this don't come twice—and you may not know when, or if, it will present itself again."
Her fists clenched tighter around the sheets, nails digging into the fabric. Shame burned hot across her face, yet her mind circled back to his words, weighing them against her own pride.
After a few tense moments she exhaled, letting her body slacken.
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly—her guarded composure melted away as soft, unwilling moans escaped her lips one after another, betraying the pleasure she could no longer suppress
Jian's fingers moved with steady rhythm, each touch deliberate. Fei Ling's breathing grew ragged, her body trembling under the unrelenting stimulation. Then, without warning—like a dam giving way—her Yun Qi surged outward uncontrollably, making her convulse slightly beneath his hand.
Fei Ling's body quivered as the last wave of Yun Qi ebbed through her veins, leaving her flushed and breathless. Her chest rose and fell heavily, her face buried against the sheets as if she could hide her expression.
But the truth was plain—her pride had cracked, her carefully guarded façade stripped away by sensations she never imagined he could summon.
Her lips trembled before the words spilled out, almost as if dragged from the depths of her being.
"C-cultivate with me…" she whispered hoarsely, her voice laced with desperation "use your dick." "In truth she could barely cultivate properly in this sect.
Every moment of her is spent chasing Elder Mei Lian's shadow, trying to be her, trying to embody her perfection… but because of that , she had been starving myself of true growth which was the essence of being in a sect."
Her fingers clenched the sheets tighter. "If you refuse, then I… I will understand as I know you don't trust me."
Jian tilted his head, his smirk subtle yet sharp, eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker. "So the proud Fei Ling admits her weakness." He leaned closer, his voice brushing her ear like a teasing whisper.
"You ask me to cultivate with you… very well. But understand this—I don't walk the path the sect teaches. What you'll experience now are techniques you've never seen.
Do you dare accept that?"
Fei Ling's breath hitched, shame and desire tangling into one. "I dare," she said at last, her voice shaking but firm.
Without wasting another word, Jian shifted, channeling his energy differently this time. His hands traced along her back in patterns foreign to the sect's method, weaving spiritual energy into intricate cycles that resonated with her core. At once, Fei Ling's body stiffened, then arched as her channels responded instinctively.
The flow wasn't forced—it was natural, as if he unlocked parts of her body she hadn't known were sealed as he did this blood seeped from his finger tips as he was forcefully using spiritual Qi outwardly tho very little.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips, followed by a cry of surprise as waves of energy surged through her. "T-this… this isn't the sect's technique…! What… what is this?" she stammered, her words fractured by spasms of awe.
Jian's smirk deepened. "This," he murmured, his fingers dancing against her skin with deliberate precision, "is dual cultivation beyond what your sect dares to teach. Relax, Fei Ling. Let it in, and you'll see just how shallow their knowledge truly is."
Her body convulsed again, not in pain but in unbridled ecstasy as her meridians pulsed wildly, each connection lighting up like fire under his guidance. She bit her lip hard, unable to silence the sounds that slipped past her throat. Her pride was collapsing under the weight of revelation, and awe filled her eyes even as tears pricked at the corners.
Jian's rhythm was unhurried yet unstoppable, like a river cutting its own path through stone. His hips moved with a fluid grace that betrayed no effort, each motion carrying the precision of a sword strike and the gentleness of a silk thread brushing against skin. To Fei Ling, it was as though she was being pulled into a current she could neither resist nor control.
Her breath hitched, her body trembling as waves of sensation crashed through her, building higher with every cycle of movement. Jian's flow was neither hurried nor chaotic—it was deliberate, steady, the kind of control only someone who truly understood the essence of balance could wield. Each shift of his weight, each subtle rotation of his hips, seemed to stir the very air in the room, making it hum with suppressed energy.
Fei Ling's pride dissolved under the rhythm. She clenched at the sheets, her nails biting into the fabric, yet the movements only grew smoother, stronger, more commanding. The dual cultivation technique Jian employed was unlike anything she had read, unlike anything Elder Mei Lian had ever taught. It was as if he drew the essence of heaven and earth into himself and then poured it into her with every fluid strike.
Her voice broke into moans she could no longer suppress. Her body, once tense and guarded, quivered with each motion until her muscles no longer obeyed her will. The rhythm was unrelenting, and with each wave she felt her consciousness slipping further, carried away on tides of ecstasy and awe.
Finally, like a dam shattering under the force of a flood, her body convulsed, unable to endure. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes rolled back slightly, and the last sound that escaped her lips was a broken cry of surrender before her strength gave way entirely.
She collapsed into unconsciousness, her body slack against the sheets, still trembling faintly as if echoing the rhythm that had undone her.
For the first time, Fei Ling realized that the path she had been walking was incomplete—and before her, this man she thought a "helper fucker," wielded a knowledge that could tear her world apart.