“Junior sister, he’s shown you such blatant disrespect. Are you still going to believe this liar?”

Chen Ping’s face was icy as he stared at Nan Mengling, but the fury in his voice trembled just beneath the surface.

Nan Mengling kept her delicate features cool and silent—not from unwillingness to speak, but because she was torn: protecting Young Master while suppressing the stirring arousal within her. Especially after he’d just spanked her bottom so firmly… Her White Moon Longsword’s scabbard nearly slipped right off!

“You call it disrespect just because you say so? If she didn’t want my arm around her, she could’ve pushed me away easily—but she didn’t. This is mutual between master and servant. What business is it of an outsider like you?” Zhou Jiuyu smiled calmly.

“Junior sister is simply shy and obedient! And *you’re* the outsider!”

A rain-formed sword began slowly materializing in Chen Ping’s hand.

Zhou Jiuyu turned gently to Nan Mengling. “So, Mengling… would you let me spank your bottom again?”

Her eyes widened in shock. She shook her head frantically.

*I’d wet myself… Absolutely not!*

“See? Junior sister refuses! Don’t worry—I’ll slay this lecher and bring you back to Sword God Mountain!”

Six water swords, pulsing with fierce Spirit Energy, hovered around Chen Ping, all aimed squarely at Zhou Jiuyu.

But just then, Nan Mengling lowered her gaze. Her voice was soft, yet perfectly clear to all:

“Young Master… back at the hotel tonight, you may. But not now.”

Chen Ping: “???”

Hearing this, the rain swords around him wavered. Bitterness and rage twisted in his chest.

*She called him ‘Young Master’… It should’ve been me!*

He knew his master’s years-long plan. He knew how perfect Nan Mengling was—beautiful, obedient, pure… a blank sheet of paper.

*He* should’ve been the one to mark her. To leave an imprint she’d never forget.

Yet someone else had already begun shaping her. How could he not burn with fury?

“Junior sister, I’ll reveal this fraud’s true face. Forgive my intrusion!”

Chen Ping unleashed all six rain swords—they shot straight toward Zhou Jiuyu!

But Nan Mengling would never let them near him. The moment her White Moon Longsword cleared its scabbard, every trace of airheaded clumsiness vanished. Only sharp killing intent and surging sword aura remained.

She’d trained with the sword since childhood. Clumsy elsewhere? Perhaps. In battle? Never.

Within her realm, she had no equal.

“Junior sister, you lack awakened abilities. Swordsmanship alone won’t beat me!”

Chen Ping clashed blades with her. His swordplay was a tier slower—but he wielded water-type abilities, and tonight was a rain-soaked night. Every droplet obeyed him.

After several exchanges, Nan Mengling faltered. A rain sword tore her white sleeve. She stepped back.

“Young Master, he’s seventh-rank. I only have forty percent certainty of killing him…” She tightened her grip. “I can cover your escape. I guarantee *you* get away.”

Zhou Jiuyu smiled. “Do you trust me, Mengling?”

“I do.” No hesitation.

“Then trust this: our chance is one hundred percent. And never say that again. One time? A hundred spanks.”

Nan Mengling’s pupils shrank. *A hundred… Would I end up like Mom… eyes rolling back, passing out from pleasure?*

…Kind of wanted to try.

“Junior sister! Didn’t Master teach you—never lose focus in battle?!”

A water sword shot forth with Chen Ping’s choked roar. His eyes had shifted from cold to seething.

*Flirting right before me? Do I not exist?*

Nan Mengling deflected it, a bead of sweat tracing her temple. Seventh-rank alone? Manageable. Seventh-rank *plus* refined ancient martial swordsmanship? Harder.

Chen Ping sneered at Zhou Jiuyu. “Hiding behind a woman?”

Zhou Jiuyu shrugged. “Aww, is there really someone no woman would shield? Can’t be, can’t be?”

“All talk. You won’t hide long. Everyone—kill the pretty-faced liar behind my junior sister! First to succeed earns three-rank promotion!”

Suited ability users swarmed forward—mostly third or fourth-rank.

“All talk? Not quite.”

Zhou Jiuyu snapped his fingers.

Blades, spears, halberds materialized around Chen Ping and his men, glowing with eerie black-red light. They froze.

Chen Ping scoffed. “Illusion! You fooled junior sister, not me.” He waved a hand straight through the weapons. His smirk widened. His men regained courage.

Then—

The weapons solidified.

Necks pierced. Blood sprayed. Heads rolled. No screams.

Chen Ping barely dodged—but a blade impaled his abdomen. Others pinned his limbs to the floor.

“Aaaaah—!!!”

A pig-like shriek tore through the shop. Blood pooled beneath him. Not dead yet… but close.

Zhou Jiuyu raised an eyebrow. “Who said I couldn’t fool *you*?”

Ten minutes ago, his power *was* illusion. Now? Spirit Energy flowed within him. Real.

Direct fight? Maybe not. Ambush? More than enough.

People die when killed. Flesh is flesh. No defensive ability? No “golden body”? A blade through you = death.

*Act weak. The weaker, the deadlier the ambush.*

“Mengling… send your senior brother on his way.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

Sword raised, she advanced.

Chen Ping’s eyes bulged. “Junior sister! Think! If Master wanted to corrupt you—to make you a submissive like your mother in those photos—why teach you swordsmanship? Why today? Why send *others*? Doesn’t that feel off?!”

Her blade froze mid-air.

*He’s right… If he wanted me broken, he could’ve done it years ago. No resistance. Why give me away?*

Even sheltered, she knew possessiveness. A man like that… wouldn’t hand her to another.

*Unless…*

She recalled Sword God’s gentle elegance, his jade-like grace. *He wouldn’t… hurt me…*

But today’s chaos… too many contradictions.

Her mind tangled. Sword trembling. Strike? Or not?

“Strange?” Zhou Jiuyu stepped closer, voice cold. “Nothing a cuckold would do is ever strange.”