The bamboo grove seemed endless. Jun cursed under his breath as he pushed another green stalk aside with the back of his hand. Sweat ran down his forehead and stained his old silk tunic.
"We've been heading north for weeks, brother. That old man's map was shit," Jun said. "If we keep going like this, we're going to end up crossing into some mortal village. They'll greet us with stones."
The taller man walking ahead didn't answer right away. His breathing was heavy, and his boots crushed the dry leaves relentlessly. After a few steps, he spoke in a rough voice:
"The map was wrong. But I can feel Qi coming from this direction. There's something here. Something the peasants in this region probably don't know about."
Jun snorted, adjusting the sword at his waist.
"Probably just a nest of filthy, stinking peasants. Let's turn back before we get into trouble."
The older man stopped and planted his boots into the ground. He turned his scarred face toward his brother.
"I need one more catalyst. My organs are already tempered. My bones already carry the weight of steel. I just need something pure for my foundation to overflow and push my flesh into the Refined Body realm. With it, the One Path Sect will have to swallow their pride. I'm not going back empty-handed."
Jun went quiet. He knew that when his brother spoke in that tone, there was no more discussion.
They kept marching. The smell of damp earth in the forest and the physical exhaustion left both men irritated, their nerves raw.
Until the dense bamboo suddenly parted.
The stalks gave way to a clearing. A stream ran between smooth stones, and on its bank stood a small bamboo cabin. Jun was about to curse at the sight when he saw the woman.
She was facing away, bent over a bucket, wringing out a wet sheet. Her light blue tunic clung to her body, damp and tight. Her long black hair fell down her back. When she turned at the sound of their footsteps, Jun felt the air leave his lungs.
The older man also stopped. His breathing changed—becoming heavier, slower. His eyes moved down her neck and stopped on the curves marked by the wet fabric. He gripped his own thighs hard, as if trying to control something.
Jun swallowed hard. The exhaustion from the journey seemed to vanish in an instant. All he could think about was the woman in front of him.
The older man took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and assumed a more controlled expression. Then he stepped out from the line of trees.
"Miss," he called, his voice rough, trying to sound polite. "Forgive the intrusion. We've been lost for weeks. We only want some water and rest."
Yù Qíng looked at the man, then at his dirty boots standing near the veranda she had just finished washing. Disgust twisted her stomach.
"The stream is to the left," she said flatly. "Wash your mouths and go back to the forest."
The man smiled slowly and took two more steps forward, stopping at the edge of the veranda. His gaze roamed openly down her body.
"You're harsh with tired travelers," he said, his voice growing thicker. "The bamboo grove is dangerous. We could wait here for a bit. Is your husband inside the cabin?"
Yù Qíng gripped the wet sheet tighter. The man took her silence as weakness and reached out toward her face, offering a crooked smile.
Yù Qíng's hand cut through the air—without technique, driven only by the raw weight of bones hardened by purification.
Crack.
Her cold palm struck the man's face. The impact lifted his massive frame off his feet, sending him flying backward. He landed hard in the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Jun froze.
The man on the ground slowly pulled his hands away from his face. His jaw was completely twisted, hanging loose. His lower jawbone had been torn from its place and was ripping the skin from the inside. Dark blood ran from his mouth and chin, dripping onto his tunic.
Yù Qíng grimaced in disgust and dipped her hand into the water bucket, scrubbing her palm hard, as if trying to remove any trace of the contact.
"Filthy animals," she muttered, still frowning.
The large man, humiliated, growled in pain and rage. His eyes turned red. He let out a guttural roar and reached for the sword at his waist.
Jun felt the air in the clearing suddenly grow heavy. The dry leaves on the ground stopped moving, as if something was draining the wind. A chill ran up his spine.
He barely had time to process it. Zhì Yuǎn emerged from the line of trees at an unnatural speed. The man with the broken jaw was still trying to close his fingers around his sword hilt when Zhì Yuǎn's fist struck the center of his face.
The bone in his forehead gave way with a sickening crack. Zhì Yuǎn's hand sank up to the knuckles into the man's face. Dark blood and fragments of bone sprayed outward. The large body collapsed backward, lifeless, hitting the ground with a dull thud.
Jun choked. He fell back onto the dirt, scrambling backward with trembling hands.
The air around them still felt strange—thinner, harder to breathe. The open pores on Zhì Yuǎn's skin kept sucking in oxygen and Qi from the surroundings without pause, as if his own body was starving for energy to move.
"What kind of aberration…" the thin man muttered, his voice faltering.
Zhì Yuǎn turned toward him. His gaze was empty, almost bored. Jun tried to stand, but the monster was already on top of him. Zhì Yuǎn's left hand came down in a straight line and drove into the middle of Jun's abdomen. His fingers tore through the silk and sank into flesh with ease. Jun felt something warm and soft being grabbed from inside his body.
He opened his mouth, but only a wet gurgle came out. Zhì Yuǎn twisted his wrist once, with force. Jun convulsed violently, his legs thrashing against the ground. Then he went limp, collapsing sideways onto the dead leaves.
Zhì Yuǎn stood up. Both of his hands were covered in blood. He stood still for a long moment, breathing normally, as if he had just stepped on two insects. Blood dripped from his fingertips onto the clean stones of the veranda.
Yù Qíng remained on the veranda for a while longer, watching her husband in silence. The yard was quiet now; only the sound of the stream could be heard. She slowly descended the steps and walked toward him, stopping a few paces away.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Blood was still dripping from Zhì Yuǎn's fingers onto the stones she had cleaned earlier.
She stepped closer, raised her hand, and touched his blood-stained face, her cold fingers sliding along his jaw.
"A-Yuǎn," she whispered. "You got dirty."
Zhì Yuǎn lowered his gaze to her. The blood from his hands dripped slowly onto Yù Qíng's light blue dress. She didn't pull away. Instead, she took another step and pressed her cheek against his chest, breathing in the smell of iron coming from his sullied skin.
Zhì Yuǎn wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her firmly, almost possessively.
They stayed like that for a long breath, in silence, surrounded by the two bodies on the ground.
Then he bent down, grabbed the taller man by the wrists, and began dragging him deeper into the bamboo grove. Yù Qíng turned, took hold of the other man's ankles, and followed her husband without a word.
They moved through the bamboo carrying both bodies. They walked for a while until they found a more secluded spot, far enough from the cabin. There, they dug a wide hole. The soil was damp and smelled of rotting leaves. They threw the corpses inside without ceremony.
Zhì Yuǎn began covering the bodies with soil using his hands. Yù Qíng stayed beside him, helping in silence. Neither of them spoke during the entire process. The only sound was the dirt falling over flesh and bone.
It was a comfortable silence. There was no need for words. What had been done required no justification between the two of them. Every so often, Yù Qíng would raise her gaze and watch her husband. There was no shock on her face. Only a strange, almost satisfied stillness. As if seeing Zhì Yuǎn burying the bodies with that same usual calm confirmed something she already knew.
When they finished, Zhì Yuǎn stayed on his knees for a moment, looking at the freshly turned earth. Yù Qíng stepped behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his dirt-covered back. She held him in silence, breathing in the smell of soil, sweat, and dried blood. Neither of them moved for a while.
They returned together to the stream without exchanging a word.
Zhì Yuǎn plunged his hands into the icy water and scrubbed hard. Yù Qíng knelt beside him on the stones. She wet a piece of cotton and began cleaning her husband's face, neck, and arms, wiping with firm, repeated motions until all the blood was gone. The stream water darkened with the red that ran from his skin. When they finished, Zhì Yuǎn's hands were clean again.
After washing, they returned to the cabin in silence. The sun was already low when they entered.
Zhì Yuǎn locked the door with the wooden log. He turned to Yù Qíng. The two looked at each other in heavy silence. The smell of blood still lingered in the air, mixed with the sweet scent beginning to rise from their warm skin.
He took a step forward, grabbed her waist with both hands, and lifted her off the ground, carrying her to the bed without saying a word.
Their clothes were torn off. He climbed on top of her and drove into her in a single, deep thrust, without preparation.
Yù Qíng arched her back and let out a rough moan, her nails digging into his back. His thick shaft forced its way in, stretching her to the limit.
Zhì Yuǎn let out a low grunt against her neck and began moving his hips. The rhythm was heavy from the start. Each thrust made the bed creak and her body shake. Sweat broke out quickly, sticking their skin together. His hips slammed against hers with force, producing a heavy, wet sound that echoed through the room.
Yù Qíng moaned uncontrollably. Her legs wrapped tightly around his wide waist, trying to pull him deeper. Every time he struck her deepest point, she let out a broken moan.
"Ahh… more…" she whimpered, her voice faltering.
Zhì Yuǎn grabbed her hair with one hand, pulling her face closer to his. He didn't speak at first, simply kept thrusting hard, making her body tremble with every stroke.
Yù Qíng bit her own lip and let out a louder moan. She grabbed his face with both hands, her dark eyes shining with a mix of pleasure and possessiveness, and spoke breathlessly:
"You're mine…" she whispered, almost desperately. "No one else is going to touch you. Only me."
Zhì Yuǎn lowered his face until it was right in front of hers. His voice came out low and rough:
"Only yours," he answered, his hips striking harder. "And you have no way to escape this, Qíng. Your flesh is bound to mine. The only woman I'm going to break and drain for all eternity is you."
Yù Qíng let out a long moan and pulled his face into a violent kiss, her nails digging into his back as he continued thrusting without pause.
Her body no longer needed preparation. When Zhì Yuǎn's scorching Yang struck her walls, Yù Qíng only clenched her jaw and swallowed. The heat was ground down inside her without mercy. The assault grew heavier, deeper, more violent.
Her insides suddenly convulsed. Thick, icy Yin gushed out, surging straight into Zhì Yuǎn. He pulled it all in, the black ice flooding his channels. His Mill spun violently, crushing the cold until it transformed into Primordial Qi.
Yù Qíng moaned loudly against his mouth, her entire body shaking. Zhì Yuǎn kept thrusting, faster and deeper. Sweat ran down his back and dripped onto her stomach. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room along with her rough, broken moans.
"Nghh…!" she let out a muffled moan, biting her lip as pleasure took her again. "Don't stop…"
Zhì Yuǎn lowered his face to her neck and bit lightly, accelerating his pace. The bed creaked without pause. Yù Qíng moaned louder and louder, her body trembling with pleasure and exhaustion as he continued taking her without rest.
They didn't stop for hours.
Sweat ran down their bodies, mixing the sweet, heavy scent rising from their purified skin with the iron that still lingered in the air. The only sound inside the cabin was that of flesh slapping against flesh and wood creaking.