Chapter 10 – Submission
Dawn's chill slipped through the shattered lattice window of the east wing.
Chang Le woke not to light—but to cold.
More precisely, to the iron grip clamped around his waist.
The world tilted. His back struck the stone floor with a dull thud, pain jolting the last of sleep from his bones.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into two glacial pupils burning with fury—and unmistakable killing intent.
Ye Yuetang was already dressed.
The loose hair and disarray of the night before were gone. She stood composed, aloof, immaculate—once again the untouchable Fairy of the Sect.
Only her face betrayed her. Pale as frost. Faint bruising beneath her eyes. Bloodless lips pressed thin.
Her fingers dug into the vulnerable spot above his hip. Spiritual power simmered beneath her skin.
Chang Le had no doubt—if she willed it, his mortal body would burst like wet paper.
"Speak."
Her voice was hoarse, scraped raw—but colder than winter iron.
"Give me one reason not to kill you."
Behind her, the brocade quilt embroidered with winter plum blossoms lay twisted on the floor.
Silent evidence.
Chang Le swallowed. His heart hammered wildly, but his mind sharpened instead of freezing.
She hadn't killed him immediately.
That meant she was hesitating.
And hesitation meant opportunity.
He forced his trembling into something theatrical—fear edged with grievance.
"I can refine pills!" he blurted, raising his voice as if cornered. "If you kill me, who will brew Spirit Pills to advance your cultivation?"
Her eyes flickered.
The grip tightened, drawing a genuine hiss of pain from him—but she did not strike.
Encouraged, he pressed on, shifting tones with careful calculation.
"Immortal Master, what's done is done. Killing me won't undo it."
His voice softened.
"You remember the pill's side effects. Yin–Yang harmonization Qi—dangerous if uncontrolled. The backlash was violent. Without someone guiding the medicinal force, your foundation could have shattered."
He met her gaze steadily.
"I stepped in to save you."
A calculated half-truth.
He continued, lowering his voice further.
"And you felt it yourself. One pill pushed you from Foundation Establishment Level Six to Level Seven. That wasn't illusion."
Her fingers loosened—slightly.
"If the next pill is stronger," he added carefully, "and the toxin erupts again… without me to stabilize it… what then?"
Silence.
He let the final blade fall.
"You wouldn't want anyone else to see you in that state."
Color rose sharply to her ears. Her chest rose and fell, breath uneven.
Power. Shame. Fear. Rage.
They warred visibly across her face.
The cold air stretched thin between them.
At last, through clenched teeth, she forced out a single word.
"Scram."
Relief surged through him so fast it nearly made him dizzy.
He was alive.
But greed—reckless, foolish greed—nudged him further.
Instead of retreating immediately, he tested his luck.
"Yuetang…"
Her aura spiked again, sharp as drawn steel.
He hurried on.
"There were two pills yesterday. I kept one back, fearing your body couldn't withstand both."
He produced a second milky-white pill between his fingers.
"Do you want it?"
Her gaze locked onto it.
Desire flickered before she crushed it beneath restraint.
For someone desperate for strength, a pill that shattered bottlenecks was poison and salvation intertwined.
The silence lasted the span of a full tea.
Then, abruptly, she stepped forward and seized the pill from his hand.
"Out."
He grinned—too smug by half—but bowed obediently.
"About the ingredients," he added, feigning humility. "We're nearly out."
Her hand dipped into her storage pouch. A small bundle of spiritual herbs flew toward him without her even looking.
He caught it, weighed it discreetly, and hid his satisfaction.
Only then did he withdraw.
The Unspoken Arrangement
In the days that followed, an unspoken rhythm settled over Ye Yuetang's courtyard.
Each day, Chang Le delivered a newly "refined" Step-Leaping Pill.
Each day, Ye Yuetang accepted it expressionless—and expelled him without ceremony.
But when night came and the medicine took hold, everything changed.
At first there would be silence.
Then restrained breathing.
Then the unmistakable surge of unstable spiritual energy.
Soon after, the rush of conjured water as she instinctively attempted to cool the raging medicinal force.
That was his signal.
Like a thief slipping through shadow, Chang Le would ease the door open and step inside.
The room would be in disarray. Her clothes damp, her composure shattered, her frost-like restraint melted into something dangerously human.
What followed was inevitable.
And every dawn, she would awaken first.
Composed. Distant. Immaculate once more.
She never mentioned the nights.
Neither did he.
Thus formed a twisted equilibrium.
He supplied the pills—and assistance in managing their "side effects."
She supplied herbs—and silence.
Power bound them tighter than emotion ever could.
Four Days Later
Four pills.
Four days.
Foundation Establishment Level Seven.
Level Eight.
Level Nine.
And then—
Golden Core.
When the vast surge of spiritual power erupted from her dantian, even Ye Yuetang stood stunned.
Golden Core.
A realm countless cultivators pursued for centuries without success.
And she had crossed into it in four days.
Four pills.
The value of such medicine defied calculation.
And Chang Le—who could produce it—was no simple medicine boy.
After exhilaration came something colder.
Fear.
Power gained too quickly unsettled the heart.
And that shameful side effect—
It tethered her to him in ways she could neither acknowledge nor sever.
Whenever the pill toxin flared in memory, heat crept up her neck.
She crushed the thoughts mercilessly.
Power first.
Everything else was irrelevant.
If avenging her mother required a price, she would pay it.
Even this.
Pill Pavilion
Seeking distraction—and more herbs—Ye Yuetang headed for the Pill Pavilion.
She barely reached the entrance before a familiar, grating voice stopped her.
"Well, if it isn't our pure and noble Junior Sister Ye."
Shen Qiufeng leaned lazily against the doorway, arms folded, smile dripping mockery.
"Gone for days. Cultivating so diligently?"
Her gaze swept over Ye Yuetang's face.
"Strange. That glow doesn't look like hardship. More like… springtime."
She leaned closer.
"Did you meet some wild man?"
Ye Yuetang's heart jolted.
The words struck too close.
"Shen Qiufeng."
Her voice cut like frost.
"Say another vulgar word and I'll tear your mouth apart."
The sudden ferocity made Shen Qiufeng falter—just for a heartbeat.
Then jealousy sharpened her expression.
"Tear my mouth? With what?" she sneered. "Foundation Establishment Level Six trash? I'm at Level Nine Perfection. Half-step into Golden Core."
She had no idea.
Ye Yuetang's aura was fully restrained.
The spiritual pressure simmering beneath the surface far surpassed her own.
Just as tension peaked—
A gentle voice intervened.
"Junior Sisters, why quarrel?"
A tall young man in azure robes approached, bearing refined and composed. The emblem on his sleeve marked him as an elite inner-sect disciple.
Shen Qiufeng's demeanor transformed instantly.
"Senior Brother Bai! Perfect timing."
She smiled sweetly.
"Junior Sister Ye here threatened me without reason."
Ye Yuetang lowered her gaze slightly in greeting, saying nothing.
But the faint tightening of her jaw betrayed her unrest.
Far away, in a quiet courtyard, Chang Le stood before a cold furnace.
The last of his pills were gone.
It was time to light the fire again.