The chill of dawn seeped through the cracked window of the east wing.
Chang Le awoke not from a dream—but from cold.
More precisely, from a hand like iron clamped around his waist.
Before his mind could fully clear, the world spun. His body was hurled aside, his back slamming hard against the icy floor. Pain exploded through him, driving the last trace of sleep away.
When he opened his eyes, he met a pair of glacial pupils brimming with fury and unmistakable killing intent.
Ye Yuetang stood before him.
She was already fully dressed, robes neat and immaculate, once again the distant, untouchable Fairy of the Sect. Only her pallor betrayed her—face deathly pale, faint shadows beneath her eyes, lips devoid of blood.
The chill radiating from her eclipsed the frost of early morning.
Her fingers dug mercilessly into the soft flesh above his hip. Chang Le had no doubt that with a mere flick of spiritual power, his mortal body would be crippled beyond repair.
"Speak."
Her voice was hoarse, yet colder than ancient ice.
"Give me one reason not to kill you."
On the floor beside them lay the plum-blossom brocade quilt, tangled and silent, bearing witness to the chaos of the previous night.
Chang Le's throat went dry. His heart thundered wildly.
Fear?
Of course he was afraid.
He was standing at the edge of death.
But amid the terror, a crucial realization struck him like lightning—
She hadn't killed him immediately.
She was demanding a reason.
That alone meant everything.
A surge of wild relief—and dangerous confidence—flooded him, though his legs still trembled.
His observations had been correct.
Ye Yuetang was solitary to the extreme. Proud, withdrawn, almost invisible within the Sect. No friends. No visitors.
Her entire existence revolved around cultivation.
Which meant only one thing—
Power was her obsession.
Perhaps for vengeance. Perhaps for a vow.
Either way, cultivation was her fatal weakness.
And him?
A useless mortal on the surface—but he possessed something priceless.
The ability to produce pills.
Pills that could shatter bottlenecks.
Pills that could send her soaring.
That was his lifeline.
Yes, the side effects were… severe.
But they were still leverage.
As for last night—
Could he truly be blamed alone?
The backlash of that pill had been terrifying. When he rushed in, Ye Yuetang had been on the verge of losing control entirely. If left alone, she might have suffered Qi deviation—or worse.
Had he not acted, could he have watched a Sect Fairy self-destruct?
That would have been a far greater sin.
And besides…
Chang Le couldn't help but steal a glance at her furious yet stunning face.
Dangerous thoughts stirred again.
Such an unparalleled, icy beauty—why leave her to some unknown future cultivator?
Better to… stabilize the situation first.
In the span of a heartbeat, countless calculations and palace-intrigue scenarios flashed through his mind.
Then—
He acted.
His expression collapsed into terror mixed with grievance. His voice trembled as he deliberately raised it, half-shouting in desperation:
"I can refine pills! Do you dare kill me?! Kill me—and who will make the Spirit Pills that raise your cultivation?!"
Her eyes flared instantly.
The hand at his waist tightened, pain shooting through him so sharply it nearly drew real tears.
Chang Le immediately retreated, switching tactics without hesitation.
His voice softened, hurried and earnest:
"Immortal Master, please calm yourself! What's done is done—killing me solves nothing!"
"I warned you yesterday! That pill carried Yin–Yang imbalance. Once the pill toxin erupted, it was life or death! If I hadn't stepped in to guide the medicinal force, your Dao foundation could've shattered—your life might've been lost!"
"I did it to save you!"
"I'm just a mortal—if you insist otherwise, what could I do?"
As he spoke, he carefully watched her expression.
When he noticed the slightest wavering in her gaze, the pressure on his waist easing just a fraction, he pressed on immediately.
"More importantly… you felt the pill's effect yourself."
"A breakthrough can't be faked."
"One pill carried you straight from Foundation Establishment Level Six to Seven."
"Don't you want more?"
"If the next pill is stronger, and the toxin erupts again—without me… what then?"
"And if someone else were to see you like that…"
His voice dropped to a near whisper, each word striking with surgical precision.
At the mention of "next pill" and "others seeing," Ye Yuetang's face flushed violently, color racing to her ears. Her breathing turned uneven, her grip trembling.
Shame, fury, fear, and desire for power collided violently within her.
The room fell into suffocating silence.
Chang Le barely dared breathe.
At last, she forced out a single word through clenched teeth—cold, exhausted, and shaking.
"Leave."
Chang Le's heart leapt.
He had survived.
Instead of retreating immediately, emboldened by success, he tested the boundary.
"Yuetang…"
Her killing intent spiked again.
He hurried on:
"There was actually… a second pill yesterday."
"I feared your body couldn't handle both at once, so I kept one back."
"This one—do you want it?"
The air froze.
Ye Yuetang stared at him, eyes storming with conflict.
For someone desperate for power, a pill that ignored bottlenecks was irresistible—especially after she had already tasted both its terror and its miracle.
A long moment passed.
Then—
She reached out abruptly and snatched the milky-white pill from his hand.
Without looking at him, she said harshly:
"Out."
Chang Le grinned shamelessly, then quickly added:
"Ah—about the ingredients… they're nearly gone."
A small pouch of spiritual herbs flew at him.
He caught it, weighed it, and nodded in satisfaction.
Only then did he bow respectfully and retreat, even thoughtfully attempting to straighten the damaged door before leaving.
In the days that followed, Ye Yuetang's courtyard fell into a strange, unspoken equilibrium.
Every day, Chang Le delivered freshly "refined" Step-Leaping Pills.
Ye Yuetang accepted them coldly, then kicked him out without ceremony.
When night fell and the pill toxin surged, Chang Le would return—drawn by the familiar sounds within.
By dawn, everything was cleaned away.
Neither of them ever spoke of it.
Four days passed.
Four pills consumed.
Ye Yuetang's cultivation soared.
Foundation Establishment Level Seven.
Level Eight.
Level Nine.
And finally—
Golden Core.
When the vast, pure power erupted from her dantian, even Ye Yuetang herself stood frozen in disbelief.
Four days.
Four pills.
Golden Core.
Joy was quickly followed by fear.
Power gained too easily was terrifying.
And the side effect—the shackle binding her to Chang Le—only tightened.
For the sake of vengeance, she told herself, any price was acceptable.
Suppressing her turmoil, she stepped out to take tasks at the Pill Pavilion.
And there, fate placed her before the person she least wished to see.
"Aiyo—if it isn't our noble Junior Sister Ye?"
Shen Qiufeng sneered from the entrance, eyes sharp with malice.
"Hiding away for days? With cheeks so rosy—doesn't look like bitter cultivation to me."
"More like you've been meeting some wild man."
Ye Yuetang's eyes flashed.
"Say that again," she said coldly.
The tension was broken only by a calm, authoritative voice:
"Junior Sisters, what seems to be the issue?"
An inner-sect disciple in azure robes stepped forward.
And far away, in a small courtyard—
Chang Le prepared to light the furnace once more.