The tropical sun rose over Isla de Sombra with an aggressive brightness that felt like a personal insult to Chen Feng. For the first time in centuries, the Sovereign didn't wake up thinking about strawberry milk. He woke up staring at the ceiling, his mind a chaotic mess of "un-salted" thoughts and a heavy, lingering sense of guilt.
The Morning After
Beside him, the bed shifted. Lin Xia was awake, huddled under the silk sheets. The proactive, fire-eyed siren of the previous night had vanished, replaced entirely by the shy high schooler who couldn't even look him in the eye. Her face was buried in the pillow, her ears a vivid shade of crimson.
"I... I should go to my room," she whispered, her voice trembling.
She tried to slide out of the bed, her crimson silk slip bunched up around her waist. However, as soon as her feet hit the floor, her knees buckled. The combination of the "Nectar's" spiritual refinement and the sheer physical intensity of the night had left her muscles feeling like jelly.
Chen Feng instinctively reached out to catch her, his hand steadying her arm. As he looked at her—noticing her winince, the trembling of her legs, and the way she flinched at the slightest touch—a realization hit him like a lightning bolt.
She was a virgin.
The Sovereign, a man who had reset the laws of physics, felt a cold sweat break out on his neck. He had been so lost in the "Nectar-induced" haze that he hadn't fully processed the gravity of the situation. He had taken the "Ice Queen's" little cousin, a girl who viewed him as a god, and completely upended her world.
"Stay put," he muttered, his voice cracking. "Don't... don't try to walk."
Chen Feng didn't use the door. He simply vanished in a blur of displacement and reappeared in the kitchen where Gary was whistling, flipping pancakes with a golden spatula.
"Morning, Boss! Did the 'Peach Essence' provide a—"
Gary didn't finish the sentence. Chen Feng's hand was suddenly around his throat, pinning the former God of Wealth against the refrigerator with enough force to dent the steel. The air in the room dropped to sub-zero temperatures.
"You," Chen Feng hissed, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, ancient purple light. "You put a celestial-grade aphrodisiac in a house with a high schooler. Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"Boss! I thought... I thought you'd catch it!" Gary wheezed, his feet dangling off the floor.
"You're the Sovereign! I figured you'd just... neutralize it!"
"I was tired, Gary," Chen Feng roared, dropping him. Gary crumpled to the floor, coughing. "She can't walk. She's terrified. And if her cousin finds out, I'm going to have to reset the world again just to hide from the paperwork."
Despite the drama, they couldn't hide forever. An hour later, Chen Feng managed to "help" (read: practically carry) a limping, shivering Xia to the breakfast veranda. She was wearing a high-collared sundress to hide the marks, but she walked with a slow, pained gait that screamed "incident."
The Big Four were already seated. The silence that fell over the table was deafening.
Su Meiling stopped her coffee mid-sip, her eyes narrowing at Xia's legs.
Lin Xuerui put down her tablet, her "Ice Queen" aura flaring so cold the orange juice started to crystallize.
Principal Ye looked from Xia's flushed face to Chen Feng's uncharacteristicly disheveled hair.
"Xia," Xuerui said, her voice a deadly whisper. "Why are you walking like you've been through a seismic event?"
"I... I fell," Xia squeaked, staring intensely at her plate of fruit. "In the... the shower. The tiles were slippery."
"Slippery," Meiling repeated, her gaze shifting to Chen Feng, who was currently trying to hide his face behind a very large pancake.
"And I suppose Chen Feng had to 'help' you up?"
Chen Feng didn't look up. He was a Sovereign, a master of space and time, but right now, he felt like a student caught smoking behind the gym. The awkwardness was so thick you could cut it with a sword.
"The shower," Chen Feng mumbled into his pancake. "Very dangerous. We should... get some non-slip mats."
The "Big Four" exchanged a look of pure, calculated suspicion. The war had just moved from corporate boardrooms to something much, much more personal.