The dense scent of sandalwood, sweat, and purified Yin still hung heavily in the room.
On the wooden bed marked by the excesses of the night, Mò Yán and Yù Méi lay completely naked. Sweet, musky sweat slowly trickled down the jade-like skin of the youngest and the milky paleness of the diplomat, staining the already ruined scarlet sheets.
A few steps from the mattress, Yù Qíng sat in the cedar armchair. She too was unclothed. She crossed her legs, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, fingers resting against her chin. Her skin glowed with the residual freshness of the cultivation.
"Your scream froze the room last night, snow flower," Yù Qíng's velvety voice broke the silence, her black eyes fixed on Mò Yán. "Your Law of Mandate locked even the dust in the air… and turned our youngest into a statue against the wall."
On the bed, Yù Méi snorted. The golden warrior rolled onto her back, crossing her arms under her full breasts, her face marked by irritation at the memory of the humiliation.
Mò Yán lowered her gaze. The diplomat made no move to cover herself.
"It was a spasm of the Dantian, elder sister," she replied, her voice polite and submissive. "I still had no control over the newly born Law."
"I know. That's why I broke it myself," Yù Qíng smiled faintly. She raised her pale hand into the air.
A thick, warm aura condensed around her fingers. The Law of Devotion spread through the environment, connecting directly to Zhì Yuǎn's Inner Universe that sustained the foundation of all of them.
"My Law of Devotion is the center of our husband's universe," Yù Qíng's voice dropped an octave, soft and doctrinal. "He is the one who placed me in this position. Therefore, all of your Laws orbit beneath mine."
The black intent of Devotion swept across the mattress, infiltrating the flesh of the two women.
"And from now on, this is the rule carved into his universe," the eldest declared. "None of you have permission or the capacity to use your abilities and Laws against each other. Your power exists only to serve him."
Mò Yán nodded slowly. She accepted the imposition without resistance. It was the natural order. The first wife carried her husband's will.
But Yù Méi's submission never came in silence.
The youngest sat up on the bed. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, her almond-shaped irises rolling with boredom and jealousy.
"You're back to wanting him all to yourself, sister?" she shot back, her rustic tone tearing through the formality of the room.
Yù Qíng did not lose her smile. Her pale hand descended to the arm of the armchair.
"He has always been mine and mine alone," she retorted, her voice dripping with sweet venom. "If you two are here, it's because circumstances and his hunger forced me. Never forget: your lives belong to him… and to me. I can take them whenever I wish."
Yù Méi let out a short, mocking laugh.
"Hmph. You really think you're more possessive with him than he is with us? You crazy woman."
The silence lasted only a second.
Yù Qíng's smile widened, reaching her eyes. She leaned slightly forward in the armchair.
"Console yourself however you like, little sister," her whisper cut through the room. "Call me crazy while remembering that you were the one who clung to him right after blaming him for our parents' death… and now you love killing indiscriminately, don't you?"
The blow landed squarely.
Yù Méi's blood turned to ice and, in the next instant, boiled.
Without warning, the youngest raised her right fist and struck the headboard of the bed with a sharp blow.
BOOM.
There was no explosion of Qi. No glow. Only the muffled sound of flesh and bone colliding against ancient wood.
However, the effect was catastrophic.
The entire back half of the pavilion disappeared.
The air was violently sucked outward in an instant, creating a sudden vacuum that dragged the sheets, hair, and even the dust on the floor backward. A cutting wind burst from nowhere, howling through the sudden opening. Outside, a portion of the white bamboo grove right behind the pavilion was pulverized — trunks, leaves, and branches turned into a fine cloud of white particles that spread through the air like mist.
The headboard of the bed, the back wall, and a good portion of the roof simply ceased to exist. All that remained was an irregular edge of splintered wood, as if something had bitten into the pavilion from the inside out.
Yù Méi remained seated on the bed, her fist still resting on what was left of the headboard, her chest rising and falling heavily. She hadn't even injected Qi into the blow. It was only a fraction of her raw physical strength — and yet, the Law of Rupture that resided in her body acted passively, dismantling matter as if it were wet paper.
Her face was red with anger, shame, and guilt.
"Shut up…" she growled, her voice low, hoarse, and dangerous. "You have no right to mention father and mother... you harpy!"
Yù Qíng did not move from the armchair.
The eldest simply tilted her head slightly to the side, observing the destruction with a calm and satisfied smile on her lips. The wind still blew into the room, messing up her damp black hair.
"Who's being the harpy here?" she provoked, her voice soft, almost sweet, contrasting violently with the hole torn into the pavilion.
Mò Yán simply pressed her lips together, keeping her eyes lowered. She only watched in silence.
The cold mountain wind blew freely into the room, carrying with it the white dust that still floated in the air.
Calm footsteps echoed in the front corridor.
Zhì Yuǎn crossed the threshold of the door, followed a few steps behind by Bái Wǎn, who carried a stack of ancient tomes pressed against her chest. The girl stopped instantly, her breath caught in her throat. Even with the karmic veil distorting the appearance of the three women — making their faces seem ordinary and their bodies forgettable — the destruction around them was far too real. The ancient spiritual wood had been undone like paper, and part of the white bamboo grove outside had been reduced to a fine mist of particles.
Zhì Yuǎn looked at the hole torn in the wall. He did not change his posture. He simply let out a long sigh and turned his face toward Yù Qíng, who continued sitting in the armchair with the same sweet and serene smile as always.
He slowly shook his head.
"Provoking my precious blade again, my love?" he asked, his rustic voice sounding calm.
Yù Qíng did not reply. She simply maintained her smile, perfectly at peace, neither disagreeing nor defending herself.
Zhì Yuǎn walked to the edge of the bed. Yù Méi was still sitting on the sheets, completely naked. Her head was lowered, and her right arm remained extended, her fist closed resting on the shattered remains of the headboard. Her chest rose and fell heavily.
He stopped in front of her and extended his hand, gently holding her chin.
With a smooth motion, Zhì Yuǎn lifted his wife's face. Her almond-shaped irises were red, and thick, silent tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. He knew every scar in her mind and exactly where Yù Qíng had touched to provoke that reaction.
His calloused thumb wiped a tear from her cheek.
"Your sister is only provoking you," he said, his voice low, deep, and possessive. "She would never touch what is mine. You know that."
The sob trapped in Yù Méi's throat finally broke free.
The warrior released the tension in her arm, threw herself forward, and hugged Zhì Yuǎn's waist tightly. Her face sank against his stomach, and she sobbed quietly against the linen of his gray tunic, her entire body relaxing under that certainty. Zhì Yuǎn placed his hand on her blonde hair, stroking it in silence.
Beside them, Mò Yán watched the scene in silence. A quiet pride filled her chest at seeing her sister being consoled. The security of that embrace was worth more than anything in this world. At the same time, the diplomat learned an important lesson. Her gaze shifted to Yù Qíng's unshakable smile. She would never dare provoke the first wife. The psychological torture the Priestess dispensed so lightly was far too dangerous.
Yù Méi's crying gradually subsided until only her heavy breathing against his clothes remained.
Without stopping comforting the youngest, Zhì Yuǎn turned his attention to the petrified figure near the door.
Bái Wǎn clutched the tomes tighter against her chest. She was still looking at him. Hearing the phrase "what is mine" echo with that deep and possessive voice caused silent damage inside her. The absolute certainty in the way he said it amplified the heat she had been trying to suppress since the previous night, making her legs tingle with desire and confusion.
"Go to that library you mentioned," Zhì Yuǎn ordered, his tone returning to practical and non-negotiable. "Bring all the scrolls and jade slips you find there. I want to take a look at the history of this plane."
Bái Wǎn tightened her grip on the tomes and nodded quickly, ready to turn on her heels.
But Yù Qíng rose from the cedar armchair.
"I'll go with her," the eldest announced, her smile taking on a utilitarian air.
The woman in blue was already gathering her dress from the floor, dressing the silk with agile movements. Seeing her elder sister preparing, Mò Yán rose from the bed at the same instant and began collecting her white and black hanfu. The diplomat knew exactly what Yù Qíng intended to do with the newcomer — and was more than willing to assist.
------
The white stone bridge connecting the central pavilion to the library was blocked by two figures.
Jiāo and Měi Lín wore flashy silk dresses in lilac and red tones. The heavy makeup and cheap aromatic oils they exuded contrasted with the cold mountain wind. They crossed their arms as soon as Bái Wǎn stepped onto the stones, closely accompanied by Yù Qíng and Mò Yán.
Měi Lín opened a fan with a dry snap. Her gaze swept over Bái Wǎn's white tunic before descending to the two women behind her.
"You're getting more creative every day, Wǎn'er," Měi Lín let out a thin laugh, covering her mouth with the fan. "Did you deliberately gather the two ugliest sweepers from the outer courtyard? Did you think walking next to this trash would make your face look less horrible by contrast?"
Jiāo wrinkled her nose, fanning the air in front of her own face.
"And they even stink like a barn," Jiāo took a step back, feigning disgust. "If you're going to drag trash to the library, at least make them take a bath first. That sour smell offends anyone who passes by."
Bái Wǎn instinctively hunched her shoulders. She pressed her hands against her tunic and lowered her head, ready to murmur an apology and try to pass.
Yù Qíng took a step forward.
Without changing her expression, the eldest dispelled the karmic veil that covered her face.
Reality struck the two disciples like a sledgehammer.
The dull skin and ordinary face disappeared, replaced by an unreal and profane beauty. Their cheap perfume was instantly swallowed by the dense aroma of sandalwood, sweet sweat, and aphrodisiac that emanated from Yù Qíng's skin. Her lips were still slightly swollen and reddened.
The fan slipped from Měi Lín's fingers and fell onto the stone.
Yù Qíng stopped a palm's width from the two girls' faces.
"The problem with poisonous weeds," her voice came out soft, almost affectionate, "is that they suck the earth believing they are orchids."
The Law of Devotion infiltrated her words. It was not an attack. It was a decree.
Jiāo and Měi Lín's irises lost focus, becoming glassy and feverish. Their arrogance melted, replaced by a panting and empty expression.
"Your vanity is blocking the bridge," Yù Qíng whispered, caressing Měi Lín's face with the tips of her cold fingers. "And you're feeling so hot… Walk to the central square. Tear off those silks that are suffocating you. Console each other's flesh on the stones and show the entire mountain how affectionate you can be."
Without hesitation, the two girls nodded with idiotic smiles. They turned their backs and began marching toward the crowded square, their fingers already frantically pulling at the ties of their tunics while swaying their hips.
Bái Wǎn held her breath.
She felt no pity. Only a cold fascination.
Yù Qíng once again covered her face with the karmic veil and looked at the newcomer.
"Weeds always devour themselves when they no longer find fertile soil to suck from," she murmured, her voice calm. "Let's fetch the scrolls, little lotus. We don't have all day."
The looting of the library was swift.
While Bái Wǎn raised her hand and the spatial ring sucked in shelf after shelf, Yù Qíng silently approached from behind. The eldest slid her cold hand along the girl's jaw, making Bái Wǎn freeze in place. Even so, she continued collecting the tomes and jade slips.
Yù Qíng brought her lips close to her ear and whispered:
"If it's your appearance that makes you hesitate so much, know that my husband can mold you into a goddess as beautiful as me and my sisters."
Her hot tongue lightly brushed against the newcomer's ear before pulling away. Bái Wǎn let out a small shiver, her ear burning. When she looked to the side, she saw Yù Qíng already beside Mò Yán. The diplomat gave a small smile and nodded, as if confirming her sister's words. Bái Wǎn lowered her face, her heart pounding. The opportunity she had so desperately wanted might be closer than she imagined.
When the trio made their way back to the Eastern Pavilion, the stone paths were in complete chaos. Groups of disciples ran along the walkways, faces red with shame and excitement. Two girls passed by running, laughing loudly.
"Did you see that?! Sister Měi Lín and Jiāo tore their own clothes in the middle of the fountain square!"
Bái Wǎn continued walking through the confusion. For the first time in her life, she did not lower her head once.
Upon arriving at the oak door of the Eastern Pavilion, Yù Qíng held Bái Wǎn's arm and gently pulled her aside. The eldest leaned in and whispered something in her ear. A thick, feverish heat rose up Bái Wǎn's neck, but the girl did not look away. Her brown irises shone with raw and hungry determination.
They entered the ruined room.
The wind whistled through the enormous hole in the wall. Yù Méi continued sitting on the bed, chewing cured meat with total indifference. In the only intact armchair, Zhì Yuǎn observed the dust floating in the air.
Bái Wǎn raised her right hand without hesitation. The ring glowed and a mountain of tomes and bamboo scrolls crashed onto the floor with a hollow thud.
She knelt, but this time she did not press her forehead to the floor. She held the man's dark gaze.
"I brought you the ancient records, my Lord… and I offer myself as well." She kept her eyes fixed on his, her cheeks burning. "I no longer want to live like a frightened rabbit. Please… break my dogmas. I want to belong to your altar."
Silence reigned in the room, broken only by the wind. Zhì Yuǎn did not respond immediately. His dark eyes evaluated the kneeling girl for a moment. Her words — "dogmas," "altar" — sounded strangely familiar. He glanced away for a fraction of a second, sweeping the room until his gaze met Yù Qíng leaning against the doorframe.
The eldest watched him with a calm and serene smile, almost innocent. Almost.
Zhì Yuǎn let out a low sigh through his nose. He had already understood everything.
He turned his eyes back to Bái Wǎn and stood up.
As he walked toward her, the man's will dispelled the karmic veil. The illusion of an ordinary face evaporated.
Bái Wǎn's breath failed. The man's true appearance paralyzed her in place. He stopped in front of her. His dark boot touched her knees.
Zhì Yuǎn's large hand held her chin and tilted her face upward.
"I do not reject roots that beg for rain," his deep voice vibrated against her bones.
He leaned down.
His sweet, dense scent invaded Bái Wǎn's senses. Zhì Yuǎn captured her lips with calm.
Her naturally plump lips were soft and full, warm against his mouth. He gently sucked on her lower lip before his tongue slowly pushed past her teeth, invading the warmth of her mouth with a deep, possessive claim.
Bái Wǎn trembled all over. Her small hands clutched his gray tunic tightly. When his tongue finally invaded her mouth, slow and deep, she let out a small, trembling, wet moan against his lips:
"Nnhh…!"
The sound came out small, ashamed, and moist. Her plump lips parted further, accepting him with instinctive submission. The kiss was not rushed. It was dense, hot, and completely dominant — a silent declaration that this mouth now belonged to him to mold however he wished.
When Zhì Yuǎn finally pulled away, Bái Wǎn's lips were swollen, red, and glistening with saliva. She panted softly, her brown eyes lost and glazed, her entire body limp and warm.
He held her face for another second, his thumb lightly brushing her swollen lower lip.
"Stand up and come with me," he ordered, his voice returning to practical and non-negotiable. "I found something useful for you."
"Yes… my god," she answered in a low voice, completely hypnotized by his presence.