The flame of the oil lamp wavered, throwing restless shadows across Ye Yuetang's usually cold, immaculate features.
She sat upright at the table, spine straight, posture flawless—clinging stubbornly to the dignity of an Immortal Master. Yet the faint tremor in her fingers and the uneven rhythm of her breathing betrayed the turmoil beneath that icy calm.
She was scolding Chang Le.
Again.
And again.
The same familiar reprimands—recklessness, lack of restraint, refining dangerous pills without regard for consequences… and certain things she clearly could not bring herself to say aloud.
Strangely, with each repetition, her words grew weaker. The accusations blurred, their edges dulled, until it felt less like a lecture and more like she was trying to convince herself.
Chang Le stood below her, hands lowered, head bowed in apparent contrition. Yet from time to time, his gaze flicked upward.
And he noticed something odd.
Whenever Immortal Master Ye truly lost her temper, her eyelashes fluttered rapidly—like startled butterfly wings.
Combined with her forced composure, it made her look… unexpectedly cute.
The fear in Chang Le's heart slowly ebbed, replaced by a thrilling realization.
So this iceberg was molten lava inside—just sealed beneath a thick shell of ice.
"Chang Le!" Ye Yuetang slammed the table again, teacups rattling violently. "Do you admit your fault?!"
"Day after day you refine these dubious medicinal pills, and you still dare—still dare—"
Her voice faltered.
A faint blush bloomed across her cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
Fragments of countless absurd nights surged into her mind like a tide. Her breath caught, the words lodging painfully in her throat.
Chang Le inwardly curled his lips.
She never could scold properly. Always the same script.
Clearly, she had little experience dealing with people.
Dragging out his reply, he spoke with exaggerated respect.
"The Immortal Master's teachings are…"
Even as he spoke, his mind raced.
He had already sensed it—Ye Yuetang was bluffing.
Especially when she mentioned pill toxin. The stiffening of her body, the sudden flush—pure guilt.
As he mumbled vague agreement, a reckless idea quietly took shape.
Best Actor Mode: Activated.
Chang Le snapped his head up, squeezing out a mix of grievance and defiance. His voice rose sharply, as if he were ready to stake his life on his words.
"So what if my new pill has a bit of pill toxin?!"
"You weren't there! When I tested it, the potency was terrifying. If I hadn't found a way to neutralize it, should I have just waited to explode and die?! What choice did I have?!"
The words pill toxin struck Ye Yuetang like a hammer to her vital gate.
Her scolding cut off instantly—like a rooster seized by the neck.
Her face went pale… then flushed crimson, the color flowing down her slender neck.
She opened her mouth, lips trembling, but no sound emerged.
Those usually icy eyes now brimmed with shame, panic, and helpless embarrassment. Unconsciously, she pressed her knees together.
Chang Le was certain now.
Her defenses were paper-thin—one poke and they tore.
In this ruthless cultivation world, she was a priceless rarity.
Lowering his voice, he pressed on, his tone turning coaxing and mysterious.
"But Immortal Master… I've recently refined a new medicinal pill. I poured my heart into it."
"It can greatly increase cultivation speed."
"It's just… the Great Dao is flawed. A trace of pill toxin remains. It requires a… special method to guide it."
As he spoke, he carefully produced a pill the size of a longan—chaos-colored, crisscrossed with intricate arcane patterns.
The moment it appeared, a faint vortex of spiritual qi formed around it.
This was no ordinary pill.
Ye Yuetang's attention was instantly captured.
Almost unconsciously, she reached out and took it.
When her fingertip brushed Chang Le's palm, she flinched as if shocked by a weak current.
Staring at the pill, she stammered,
"W-what does it do? How strong is it? And… how does the pill toxin manifest?"
She tried to sound calm.
Her trembling voice betrayed her.
Chang Le licked his dry lips, gaze drifting slightly. He leaned closer and whispered a single word.
"Auto-pilot."
Ye Yuetang blinked.
"…What?"
She was completely lost.
What did that have to do with alchemy? With cultivation?
Her blank expression, lashes fluttering in confusion, carried an almost innocent charm.
Steeling himself, Chang Le began explaining in the most academic and tactful manner he could manage.
"The pill's potency is fierce. One must actively guide it using personal spiritual qi—circulating it through the meridians with specific… rhythmic movements."
"Only then can the medicinal power be catalyzed and the toxins expelled."
"If taken passively, spiritual qi will clog and damage the meridians."
The moment she understood—
"You shameless rogue!"
Ye Yuetang erupted.
The flying sword in her hand rang sharply, leaping three inches from its sheath. Cold sword light flooded the room, stopping a finger's breadth from Chang Le's nose.
The pressure of late-stage Qi Refinement crashed down like a mountain.
Chang Le gasped, knees buckling as he nearly collapsed.
She was genuinely ready to kill him.
"You dare—dare to make such a demand!"
"Murder! Spare me, Immortal Master!"
Chang Le shrieked and dove behind the table.
"If you kill me, you'll gain nothing! Only I know the pill formula!"
"It's like riding a horse—what's the difference between once and twice?! It's all for cultivation! For the Great Dao!"
He emphasized pill formula and cultivation with shameless precision.
"You—!"
Ye Yuetang trembled with rage, chest heaving, sword tip quivering. The killing intent was real.
Yet his words pierced her heart like ice.
The temptation of rapid cultivation was undeniable.
And once that line was crossed… how long before the excuse of for cultivation erased all restraint?
Her face shifted between pale and green.
At last, the sword light withdrew.
Her voice came hoarse, exhausted, thick with shame.
"B-but for me to… take the initiative… absolutely impossible!"
To actively cooperate in such a humiliating method—to discard all dignity—was worse than death.
Chang Le immediately retreated, only to advance.
"Forget it, Immortal Master. Pretend I never said it."
"You're talented. Your Dao Heart is firm. Just cultivate slowly."
"A few extra decades… you're still young. You can wait."
Each sentence sounded like concession.
Each one stabbed her mercilessly.
Decades?
She couldn't afford decades.
Blood feuds were carved into her bones. Power was the only thing keeping her alive.
Time was what she lacked most.
Moonlight climbed to its zenith.
At her weakest moment, Chang Le stepped forward—
And blew out the oil lamp.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Only pale moonlight filtered through the paper window, sketching their silhouettes.
Her heartbeat thundered.
The pill burned in her palm.
In the end, desire crushed restraint.
For the next twenty days, the courtyard gate never opened.
Ye Yuetang's cultivation soared—straight to Golden Core, Third Layer.
If word spread, the Qingyun Sect would be shaken to its core.