Wen Ling's residence stood near the outer court lotus pond, tucked beneath the shade of plum trees and surrounded by the soft hum of cicadas. The air was cool and sweet, with the scent of summer flowers and faint incense. It was peaceful, like the courtyard had no interest in the world beyond its bamboo fence. Zhan Kai Tian followed her up the stone path, the moonlight catching against his blade as it swayed gently on his back. She slid open the door, and a warm golden glow spilled out from within. "Come in," she said, her voice low, her smile subtle.
"I've been waiting." He stepped inside without hesitation. As soon as the door closed behind him, he unslung his sword and leaned it carefully against the wall by the door. The action was casual and practiced, like setting aside an umbrella after a walk in the rain. His body moved without hesitation, at ease in her space. The house was simple but elegant.
Paper screens lined the walls, and the wooden floor was polished and clean. Incense curled lazily from a bronze stand. A teapot and two porcelain cups sat steaming on a low table, and on the far side of the room, Wen Ling had already slipped out of her outer robe. She wore a thin, white silk garment that caught the light and shimmered faintly with each breath. Silver embroidery in delicate patterns lined the cuffs and hem. The material clung lightly to her form, not overtly revealing, but flowing with an effortless grace. Zhan Kai Tian's eyes lingered momentarily, not shy or hesitant, simply observant.
"You look good in silk," he said, quiet but honest. "It suits you."
Wen Ling blinked, caught off guard for half a second, then her lips curved. "And here I thought I knew you, as the quiet type," she replied, pouring him a cup. "Flattery already? I should've invited you sooner." He smiled faintly and sat across from her, legs folded beneath him. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't know why you asked." "I know," she said, lifting her cup. "And you came anyway." "I'm not a fool," he replied. "You've treated me far too well, and I don't forget kindness." They drank silently for a few breaths, the tea warm and smooth, blended with something fragrant, perhaps plum leaf or wild orchid.
The glow of the spirit lamp flickered gently between them. After a while, she leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, chin resting against her palm. Her gaze had shifted—curious now, not playful. "Kai Tian," she said softly, "can I ask something?" He nodded. "What was your life like before the sect? I mean… really." He thought about it for a second, not because he was unsure, but because this was the first time she had asked a question like this. "Simple," he said. "I lived in River Village. Every morning started before the sun. I fished all day, then traded to help my mother at the Market. That was it." "No father?" she asked, gently.
He shook his head. "He left when I was a baby—or died. We never really knew. My mother said it didn't matter." Wen Ling sipped her tea slowly, watching him over the rim of her cup. "So you worked? Every day?" "Every day," he said. "Didn't have a choice. If I didn't work, we mightn't have eaten. Simple as that." "You don't sound bitter about it." "I'm not," he said.
Being a fisherman and working in the Market taught me a lot and made me who I am today. I wouldn't have my work ethic if not for my upbringing." She smiled, "And now you're here," she said. "From nets to swords." He looked around her home, at the soft light, the silk, the scent of tea and incense. "Seems like another life," he said. "But I still feel like that same boy some mornings. Just with a bigger rod." Wen Ling nearly choked on her wine. "Did you just—" He raised an eyebrow, his tone perfectly neutral. "I meant a fishing rod." "Oh, did you?" she asked, half-laughing, half-blushing. He didn't answer. He just drank.
Wen Ling set her cup down, her fingers lingering at the rim, eyes still shining with the ghost of a smile. "You are different," she said after a moment. "Most boys your age would've turned red, sputtered an apology, maybe tried to explain themselves."
"I said what I meant," Zhan Kai Tian replied calmly. "And if you heard something else… well, maybe that says more about you."
She tilted her head, amused. "Now you're teasing."
"Only a little," he said, lips curling faintly.
The warmth between them settled—no longer flirtatious for the sake of it, but something quieter, steadier—a comfort. A familiarity neither had expected.
Wen Ling leaned back, stretching her legs out to the side. Her silk garment shifted with the motion, catching the light again. She didn't seem to notice or care if it drew attention, and Kai Tian, for his part, didn't gawk. He glanced once, maybe twice, but his gaze always returned to her eyes.
"You know," she said after a pause, voice thoughtful, "most disciples who come from places like you—small villages, they often break… or get bitter. Do you think it'll happen to you?"
"There's no point complaining," he said. "It doesn't change the work. Doesn't fill your belly."
"No," she agreed. "But it wears on you. Eventually, you either spit it out or let it rot you from the inside."
Zhan Kai Tian was quiet for a moment. Then: "I spit when I need to."
That made her laugh again—quiet, genuine. "I'm starting to think you're more trouble than you look."
"Probably."
She looked at him for a while, but her expression was unreadable.
"You know why I asked you here?" she said.
He nodded once. "I think so."
"It's not just because you're handsome," she said lightly, but with something deeper beneath her tone. "Though you are."
He didn't react to the compliment. Instead, he waited.
Wen Ling smiled again, slower this time and more thoughtfully. She took another sip of tea and set the cup down carefully, as if what she said next needed space.
"I used to think I needed someone strong. Someone who already had the power. But lately… I've started thinking it's better to be around someone still growing. Someone climbing, not someone sitting at the top."
He considered that. "You want to climb with them?"
"I want to climb and make a name with someone who won't let go halfway," she said.
Their eyes met. Neither of them smiled now.
Zhan Kai Tian didn't look away. "I came here tonight knowing I'd stay," he said. "I'm not the type to stop halfway."
Wen Ling's gaze softened. She leaned to the side and opened a small lacquered box, lifting a tightly rolled scroll bound in crimson silk thread. The paper was aged, and the ribbon frayed.
"I want to give you something then," she said. "It's not a sect scroll. It's from my family."
She placed it between them.
"It's called the Iron Bones Manual," she said. It's a body cultivation technique passed down in the Wen family, though we don't practice it nowadays, considering we're born with iron bones now."
Zhan Kai Tian looked down at the scroll, quiet.
"It strengthens the skin and muscle," she continued. When you reach perfection in the technique, you'll transform your bones into Iron Bones."
He didn't reach for it immediately. His gaze stayed on her. "And you're giving this to me?"
"I am," she said. "Because from what I know, you're trustworthy, and if I'm going to give you myself, my man should be able to keep up with me."
She smiled faintly. "And I know you will. That's why I chose you."
Zhan Kai Tian picked up the scroll. The weight wasn't much, but the meaning behind it settled deep in his hands.
"I'll train it," he said. "And I won't waste it."
Wen Ling stood, the silk of her robe whispering across the polished floor. She moved toward the spirit lamp, her silhouette graceful in the flickering glow. The hush in the room had shifted. Not empty silence, but expectant. Wen Ling took a step forward, bare feet silent on polished wood. Another. The low gleam of the spirit lamp painted curves in her shadow, dancing softly along the wall behind her. He watched the sway of her silk-draped hips, the subtle gleam of skin beneath, and remained where he sat, waiting not out of doubt but respect, like a mountain waiting for the rain to touch it.
She stopped in front of him.
Her hand brushed the scroll gently aside, letting it rest on the lacquer table. Then her fingers rose to his jaw. He didn't flinch. Her thumb brushed his cheekbone, the pad slow and warm, then traced the corner of his lips, soft and brief, like a calligrapher testing her brush.
He tilted his chin up slightly, meeting her eyes without bravado.
"Show me," she said, barely above a whisper. "The kind of man you are."
Wen Ling's posture was poised, her form half-wreathed in lamplight and half in shadow. Her silk underrobe lay pooled at her feet, and though she was bare, she showed no sign of flinching. She met his gaze without blinking or smiling.
Zhan Kai Tian's words had not been flattery. They were an observation—calm, weighted, like every other thing he did. "You have such a beautiful body," he said, his voice like river stones under current. His fingers skimmed her waist, then upward, tracing the delicate curve of her ribs to the soft under-curve of her breast.
Zhan Kai Tian's hand cupped the side of Wen Ling's face, fingers splaying softly into the fall of her dark hair. Her gaze didn't waver. She leaned in, brushing her lips against his, then with a calmness more intimate than urgency, she took his hand.
Not to her waist. Not her heart.
She brought it straight between her thighs. Wen Ling's fingers guided his with deliberate grace, parting the front of her robe with her other hand to bare herself to him entirely. The silk folded aside like water, and the dark gleam of her core caught the soft amber lamplight, dewy with need. She drew his hand lower, nestling it into the heat of her pussy, unhurried.
He didn't breathe for a moment.
Her folds were soft. Wet. And she placed his hand there—right there—until his fingertips rested fully against her pussy, her labia parting gently around the pressure. She made no sound, only held his hand in place, letting him feel how slick she was for him, how ready.
Kai Tian hadn't touched any woman like this before; it was his first, but His touch was smooth, precise, and devoted in this moment. He'd read pornographic novels sometimes, but none of those novels had prepared him for how a real woman would feel—how warm and alive she would be beneath his fingers.
Her voice was barely audible. "Touch me."
He nodded and then began to move. At first, it was cautious. His fingertips dragged gently up through her slick folds, following the shape of her body, guided by the little gasp that slipped from her lips. She was so wet already—his fingers slipped easily through the moisture, gliding up to the small, swollen nub that he'd read so many descriptions of.
He brushed it.
She twitched.
"Mmhh—yes…" Her breath fluttered out of her, hips rolling slightly against his hand. "Right there… slow."
He obeyed instantly, circling her clit with his middle finger, experimenting with pressure, rhythm, speed. Watching her reactions. Her lips parted, her breath coming faster. When he pressed a little harder, her thighs flexed around his wrist and her hips lifted ever so slightly, encouraging more.
That sound she made—soft, drawn out—went straight to his core. His cock pulsed hard beneath his robes, aching, but he didn't rush. He focused, just like when studying sword forms. Feel every movement. Observe and adjust.
"Is this your first time?" she asked. he nodded
"You're… learning fast," Wen Ling whispered.
"I guess I'm a natural at this then."
She laughed, breathless. "I agree, I think you are."
His fingers dipped lower, sliding down to her entrance, now glistening with arousal. He drew a single finger slowly into her heat, and her entire body answered—hips twitching, thighs parting wider. She was so tight inside, impossibly hot, her inner muscles fluttering around the gentle intrusion.
"Aaah—gods, yes…" she gasped, one hand gripping his forearm.
He moved slowly, curling his finger upward just a little—he'd read about the place inside that made a woman melt. He wasn't sure he'd found it, but her breath caught again as he probed deeper. He added a second finger, gently, testing the stretch. Her body accepted him with another moan, slick sounds meeting his ears as he worked his hand with more confidence now.
Schlick… schlick… the rhythm subtle but unmistakable.
Her pussy pulsed around his fingers with every soft stroke, and her head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut. Her other hand came up to her chest, fingers brushing her breast absently, instinctively. She was lost in the sensation now, and Kai Tian couldn't take his eyes off her.
He leaned in, slowly, and He kissed her.
Soft at first, careful. His lips brushed hers, tasting the wine and tea lingering on her breath. She kissed him back with more fire, one hand tangling in his hair as she opened her mouth. Their kiss deepened while his fingers kept working between her thighs, his palm pressing against her mound, his thumb finding her clit again as her moans bled into his mouth.
"Mmmh—K-Kai Tian—ahh, just like that—"
Her hips rocked harder into his hand, chasing every curl of his fingers, her breath ragged now. Her thighs quivered.
"I'm going to—fuck—don't stop, don't stop—"
He didn't. He matched her rhythm, pressed his thumb just a little firmer, moved his fingers faster, deeper, precisely the way she wanted. He could feel it—her body drawing tighter, her moans sharper, her pussy fluttering around his hand And then she broke.
Her climax hit with a cry muffled against his neck, her whole body seizing around his fingers, soaking him and his dull gold and jade bracelet.
If Zhan Kai Tian had paid attention to it right now, hed noticed it had lost its dull appearance, becoming shiny, and the jade had a mysterious glow to it with words in a different language.
"Bloodline activation and Bloodline Purification features have been activated."
If one paid close attention to him, they would notice his eyes now had a certain allure, making it hard to look away if you looked at him directly. His pheromones would make the opposite gender feel relaxed in his presence and more attracted to him.
The pheromone was noticeable to Wen Ling instinctively, she clung to him, inhaling his smell as she was shuddering, breath torn from her chest as the orgasm.
She slowly slumped forward, pressing her forehead to his shoulder, still catching her breath.
Zhan Kai Tian withdrew his fingers carefully, coated in her slickness, and wiped them delicately against the inside of his robe. Then he looked at her.
Wen Ling lifted her face to his, cheeks flushed, lips swollen, eyes glowing. "And I'm supposed ot believe that was your first time?" she whispered, almost in disbelief at his ability to pleasure her.
He nodded, softly. "I read a lot of… things."
She laughed, dizzy with satisfaction. "It seems like you can recreate what you read."
He smiled, leaning forward, letting their lips meet again, their bodies still pressed close, taking his veiny rod, which had been raging, pushing it into her cave.