The night was heavy and silent, wrapped in a shroud of shadows.
In the Xuan family's inner courtyard, two faint figures could be seen through the paper windows Uncle Xuan-Han and Aunt Mei-Ling. Their faces glowed dimly in the lantern light, their voices soft but venomous.
"That child… Xuan-Ming," Aunt Mei-Ling whispered, her brows furrowing. "He's impossible to control. If he had accepted us as parents, we could have taken his inheritance once he came of age."
Uncle Xuan-Han's eyes gleamed coldly, like a serpent's.
"Yes. But until he turns sixteen, he can't access his father's inheritance. That's the law of the Ming bloodline. We just need to drive him out before that. Once he's gone, his inheritance will revert to the clan to us."
Aunt Mei-Ling's lips curved in a faint, cruel smile.
"Still… he's too clever. He doesn't fall for traps easily."
"Let him be clever," Xuan-Han sneered. "He's just a third-class talent. His strength will never threaten us. As for the rest… we already have Xuan-Ray, our new 'son'. Through him, we've already won."
He stood and poured himself a drink, the wine swirling like blood in the cup.
"Xuan-Ming, I gave you a chance. If you're smart, you'll disappear quietly. But if you resist… don't blame me for what happens next."
The lantern flickered once and went out, leaving only silence and the faint echo of their laughter.
Outside, beneath the same sky, Xuan-Ming sat alone on a massive rock at the edge of the clan's outer forest. The moonlight washed over him, pale and cold, and a bottle of wine gleamed faintly in his hand.
The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faint sound of insects and the distant croak of a nightbird.
He took a slow breath, eyes reflecting the stars.
"So that's their plan…" he murmured, his tone flat but his gaze sharp as a blade. "In my past life, I was naive. I trusted too easily… and because of that, I never obtained my family's inheritance. I had to claw my way up from nothing it took me decades to reach the peak."
He raised the wine bottle to his lips, taking a long drink. The burning liquid slid down his throat, mingling with the bitterness in his chest.
"But this time," he said softly, "I won't fall into their schemes. Let's see what tricks they try now."
He leaned back against the rock, the night breeze brushing through his silver-black hair.
"To rise again… I need resources. And that inheritance belongs to me by blood, by right. I'll take what's mine, no matter the cost."
His eyes darkened as he looked at the stars above.
"And the Drunken Artifact… where are you hiding? You're the key I need."
The night candles flickered softly in Xuan-Ray's chamber, casting long golden shadows across the carved jade desk. He sat there, his brush moving steadily over the parchment. Ink stains marked his fingers, but his expression was calm determined.
"Father, Mother… I'll never let you down," he murmured to himself.
"This time, I'll come first in the assessment no matter what."
Outside, the night wind rustled through the paper windows. He didn't hear the footsteps approaching until a gentle knock echoed from behind.
"Young-Master Xuan-Ray," came a soft, musical voice low, sweet, and careful. "I've prepared the warm bathwater for you. May I assist you?"
He turned his head slightly the one speaking was Naan, the servant girl assigned to his courtyard. Her simple robes hugged her frame, her eyes lowered with respect, yet there was something teasing in her tone.
Xuan-Ray's face flushed a little. "Ah… yes. Thank you, Naan."
A faint smile touched her lips as she moved gracefully toward the bathtub. Steam rose, filling the air with a faint scent of herbs and lotus oil.
When Xuan-Ray stepped into the water, the warmth enveloped him, washing away the day's fatigue. Naan knelt beside the tub, her hands dipping into the water to pour it gently over his shoulders.
"Young-Master," she said softly, her voice carrying a tremor that was almost a whisper, "you've grown so much recently. Stronger… calmer… and far more handsome than before."
Her words hung in the steamy air, light but dangerous.
Xuan-Ray's heart skipped a beat. He tried to reply, but her voice flowed on low and trembling.
"Sometimes, I think… if only I were born at your level. You're a first-class artifact master… and I'm just a servant."
She stood slowly, turning to leave, her hands trembling as she gathered the towels.
"Forgive me, Young-Master. I've spoken too boldly."
But before she could take a step, Xuan-Ray's hand rose almost unconsciously and caught her wrist. The faint sound of dripping water filled the silence.
He looked at her truly looked and for a moment, he didn't see Naan the servant, but something deeper: warmth, closeness, the yearning for someone to understand him beyond rank or bloodline.
His mind flickered back to a night months ago when Xuan-Ming had spoken to him under the lanterns of the study hall.
"Love," Xuan-Ming had said then a poem,
She bows he reigns yet hearts the same,
A servant's love, a master's flame.
Fate divides, yet souls entwine,
In silence pure, their worlds align.
Then he pulled Nan closer to him, Nan's two oranges became vibrating after hitting her chest. Nan's white clothes became wet, her body was now completely transparent. Her big two orange chest was very beautiful, a perfect sleek curved waist like a highway road or two juicy legs like beast meat, seeing which Xuan-Ray was not able to control himself. Nan took off the wet clothes and gave a seductive body pose. She said snuggling to Xuan-ray, young master, come servant, she was a virgin till today, but she wants to open her own lock with your key and her nails started moving slowly on Xuan-ray's back to seduce him more. Xuan-ming kissed Nan, their tongues started playing in their mouths. Nan put Xuan-ray's hand in her orange, Xuan-ray's hand started playing on her chest like playing a perfect piano. Xuan-ray started kissing Nan's neck, she started getting more and more warm and after that Xuan-ray picked Nan up and laid her down and closed the door.
(I can't explain more now you idiots, what did you guys think of this novel, come and read it all, improve yourself, you idiots, be happy with what I have written and support it)
The rain had finally ceased, leaving the air crisp and fragrant with the scent of wet stone and wood. Xuan-Ming sat cross-legged in the dim light of his room, his sword-artifact before him, steam rising from the polished steel as he channeled his inner Qi. He had been at it for over an hour, yet progress was slow — only twenty percent refined.
"At this rate," he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing in frustration, "there's no way I'll win that reward. Half my Qi gone, and barely a fifth of the work completed…"
A soft knock at the door broke his concentration. Before he could respond, the door opened, and Naan stepped inside. Her presence was like a sudden flare in the darkness confident, teasing, and purposeful.
"Young-Master," she said softly, letting the faint light catch her hair, "it's been raining for three days. I thought I'd bring something to lift your spirits food and wine. You must be tired from refining all this time."
The aroma of the dishes she carried drifted across the room. Xuan-Ming's nose twitched; the rich scent of roasted meat and wine seemed almost intoxicating.
Naan set the tray down carefully, kneeling beside it with a subtle, calculated grace.
"I thought… perhaps tonight we could take a little break," she whispered, letting her hand rest lightly on the corner of the table.
Xuan-Ming's mind, already drained from hours of refinement, began to waver. His fingers trembled slightly as he glanced at his artifact, then at her. Every instinct told him to focus to finish the sword-artifact and secure the reward but her presence stirred something deeper, something dangerous and thrilling.
Naan leaned closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, brushing against his ear.
"Young-Master, it doesn't matter what talent you have… I have admired you for a long time. Tonight,
Tonight Survant will give her body to you young master, saying this she moved forward to kiss him so that he can do it on the seduce.
The room was quiet except for the faint drip of rainwater from the roof outside. The lantern light swayed, throwing trembling shadows across the walls.
Naan leaned forward, her breath warm, her lips just an inch away from his. Her eyes carried that same practiced gentleness he had seen in the servants who learned to survive through charm.
But Xuan-Ming didn't move. His gaze stayed fixed on her face empty, unreadable, like the surface of still water before a storm. Then, slowly, a smile curled across his lips dark, sharp, and cold.
"So this is what they call a beauty trap," he murmured. "How disappointing."
The sudden chill in his voice made Naan flinch. "Y-Young Master… what are you saying?" she stammered.
Before she could step back, his hand shot out. In one smooth motion he caught her by the throat and pressed her against the wall. The air trembled with the sudden burst of killing intent that leaked from his body.
Naan gasped, her eyes wide with fear. "Y-Young Master! Please what are you doing?"
Xuan-Ming leaned closer, his expression as calm as death.
"Don't play innocent. Let me guess… uncle and aunty sent you, didn't they? To distract me? To see if I'd fall for their little game."
He looked toward the window, as if sensing unseen eyes beyond the darkness.
"If that's the case," he said softly, "then the audience must already be watching."
The lantern flickered once, its flame shrinking under the weight of his presence. Naan trembled, unable to breathe properly under his grip. For a heartbeat, silence filled the room a silence that felt sharper than any blade.
What did you plan to seduce me with, the two garbages on your chest or the 3 inch hole below.
The lanternlight quivered.
Naan's breath came out in short, broken gasps as Xuan-Ming's fingers tightened around her throat.
Her feet scraped against the floor, hands clawing weakly at his arm, eyes wide with disbelief.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the shallow rasp of life struggling to stay alive.
Then suddenly he released her.
She dropped to her knees, coughing violently, tears running down her cheeks. Xuan-Ming crouched before her, his expression carved in ice. Slowly, he caught her chin and lifted her face upward.
The dim light fell across his features half in shadow, half in flame and for the first time, she saw it clearly: that smile.
A smile that did not belong to any mortal man.
"Tell me," he said softly, his tone almost gentle, "do you really think I wouldn't kill you?"
The weight of his voice froze her blood. There was no anger in it only certainty.
She shook her head, trembling, unable to speak.
He stared at her for a long moment, then chuckled faintly, the sound cold as winter rain.
"You're lucky," he whispered. "You've served me for years. For that, I'll let you live… this once."
He stood up, brushing the dust from his hands as though wiping away the last trace of pity.
"You wanted freedom, didn't you? Then go."
"Go to my dear little brother he's naive enough to believe in kindness."
He turned his back to her, eyes narrowing toward the faint glimmer of his half-refined artifact.
"Trade your chains for his affection if you wish… but remember this," his voice dropped to a murmur, "some prisons are softer, yet harder to escape."