Chapter 185 Heartless

Inside the cave, a faint fragrance drifted.

Mu Changge's sudden embrace caught Yun Qingyao off guard.

She was completely enveloped in that scorching, solid chest; the tip of her nose bumped against his lapel, which carried a unique masculine scent, and his rapid breathing and trembling voice filled her ears.

The excitement and reliance in that voice—the relief of surviving a disaster—were too real, causing Yun Qingyao's hands, which were meant to push him away, to freeze in mid-air. Her heart felt as if it had been bumped by something soft, leaving it feeling both sour and joyful.

"Junior Brother Mu..." Her voice was very soft, fearing she might disturb something. "You, you let go first; your injuries haven't healed yet..."

She tried to remain clear-headed, but the heat rising quietly within her from the floral fragrance seemed, at this moment, to be completely ignited by their closely pressed body temperatures.

The crisp, masculine scent on Mu Changge actually made her dazed for a moment.

That scent drilled into her nasal cavity, flowing through her blood to every limb and bone, making her whole body subconsciously go weak.

What was even more fatal—he was holding her too tightly.

So tightly that Yun Qingyao could clearly feel the rise and fall of his chest; so tightly that the scorching body temperature branded onto her through their clothing; so tightly that she felt a wave of numbness from being pressed.

"Senior Sister..." Mu Changge's face was buried in the hollow of her neck, his voice muffled, carrying the hoarseness and choked sobs of one who had just survived a disaster. "I just... I just thought I was going to die..."

When he said this, his warm breath sprayed against the side of Yun Qingyao's neck, stirring up a subtle itch.

Yun Qingyao's body stiffened again, and the roots of her ears turned red uncontrollably.

"Don't say silly things." Yun Qingyao forced herself to remain calm, trying hard to ignore the strange, ant-crawling sensation on her neck. She reached out to pat his back, only to find that her own palms were slick with sweat. "You will be fine; I have already given you the heavenly returning spirit pill, you..."

Before she could finish, she suddenly gasped.

Because... because Mu Changge's hand, which was wrapped around her back, seemed to move slightly, as if unconsciously.

That hand had originally been properly placed below her shoulder blades, but now it slowly slid downward, its palm—separated by the fabric—pressing against her willow-slender waist.

Yet it was this "inadvertent" little movement that made every hair on Yun Qingyao's body stand on end.

The temperature of Mu Changge's palm was too high, so high that even through the fabric, she felt as if that patch of skin was being ironed by a branding iron.

"Junior... Junior Brother..." Yun Qingyao's voice began to tremble. She wanted to push him away, but her arms couldn't muster any strength.

The impulsive feeling within her grew increasingly surging, like countless tiny insects crawling through her blood vessels, leaving her mouth dry and her tongue parched, her heart beating like a drum.

"Hmm?" Mu Changge seemed not to notice her abnormality; instead, he held her even tighter, burying his face deeper into the hollow of her neck. His voice carried a heavy nasal tone, as if he were crying (though it was actually faked). "Senior Sister... you don't know, when I passed out just now, my eyes were filled with your shadow... I was afraid, I was afraid I would never see you again..."

He spoke with genuine sincerity, tightening his arms a bit, while that hand moved "inadvertently" once more.

Yun Qingyao's voice went soft, and she let out a light hum, instantly biting her lower lip, her cheeks flushing a deep, explosive red.

What was she doing? Junior Brother Mu had just woken up from a serious injury and was emotionally agitated; he was just instinctively wanting to hold her to seek comfort. How could she... how could she have such dirty thoughts about Junior Brother Mu?

Yet she remained completely unaware that the Junior Brother Mu before her, who in her eyes was just frightened and seeking solace, no longer held the simple feelings of a Junior Brother toward a Senior Sister; he had long since developed extraordinary intentions toward her.

Mu Changge's hand stopped at her lower back, making no further movements, yet its presence was so strong it could not be ignored.

As time passed, that sweet, distant floral fragrance seemed to grow stronger, so strong that her eyes became slightly dazed and her whole body went limp.

"Senior Sister smells so good..." As if only then noticing her abnormality, Mu Changge asked in a muffled voice, his tone carrying the weakness of his serious injury and a hint of ignorant confusion. "Is... is that some kind of floral scent?"

As he spoke, his warm lips "accidentally" brushed against the side of Yun Qingyao's neck.

Yun Qingyao's whole body stiffened, and she almost went limp in his arms.

But she still bit her lower lip hard, trying to maintain clarity through the slight pain. "It, it's the flowers nearby... Junior Brother Mu, let me go first, your wounds will tear open..."

Even at this point, Yun Qingyao was still concerned about his injuries, which once again moved Mu Changge.

"No." Mu Changge made a show of holding her even tighter, like a child lacking security, his arms firmly locked around her waist, and he even buried his face further into the hollow of her neck before saying, somewhat unclearly, "If I let go, Senior Sister will disappear..."

"I won't disappear..." Yun Qingyao's voice was already impossibly soft; she felt she couldn't hold on much longer.

It was as if a volcano were erupting within her, burning her body hot and stirring up waves of unspeakable shame.

Just at this moment, Mu Changge made his next move; he gently curled his fingers and pinched the soft flesh at her waist.

"Ah!" Yun Qingyao's pupils constricted, her whole body shook violently, and she twisted involuntarily.

Mu Changge's movement was too fast; it felt like a bold provocation, yet also like unconscious concern.

"Senior, Senior Sister..." His voice carried a hint of confusion, and he turned his head slightly, though his arms still firmly circled Yun Qingyao's waist, his face extremely close to hers. "Why are you trembling... are you very cold?"

As he spoke, Mu Changge's other hand also wrapped around her, as if to help keep her warm, pulling her even tighter into his embrace. His palm pressed against her back, clumsily patting it as if soothing her, using this method to provide her with warmth.

Under this series of actions, Yun Qingyao completely lost her ability to hold back.

"No... it's not cold..." Yun Qingyao's voice was already laced with a sob. She didn't know what was wrong with her today, only feeling as if there was a fire burning inside her, burning away all her reason, burning her with the desire to get closer to this jade-like man before her, wanting to inch by inch, step by step, press herself against him.

And Mu Changge—at an angle unseen by Yun Qingyao, the face that had turned away from the side of her neck slowly lifted into an evil arc.

Two breaths later, he turned his head back, his long eyelashes masking the surging darkness in his eyes, but the evil smirk at the corner of his mouth was harder to suppress than a trigger, clearly written with the triumph and playfulness of having everything under control.

He naturally knew that Yun Qingyao was suppressing it, and naturally knew why her voice was soft...

Because all of this was already within his calculations.

The you su floral fragrance was entering its prime. And his own perfectly timed "inability to restrain his emotions" was merely adding the final handful of dry firewood to this raging prairie fire.

"Senior Sister..." Mu Changge suddenly called her in a low voice, his tone hoarse and carrying some indescribable emotion.

Yun Qingyao looked up blankly, her eyes, hazy with moisture, meeting those deep eyes that were mere inches away.

Those eyes were as deep as a pool in the dim light, staring at her intensely, with an undercurrent she couldn't understand surging at the bottom of them—like the relief of surviving a disaster, like deep-seated attachment, and like something scorching that was almost about to swallow and drown her.

"I..." Mu Changge's Adam's apple bobbed, his gaze falling onto her lips, which she had bitten until they were pale; that spot, now flushed with an alluring crimson from her exertion, was slightly parted, gently exhaling.

Mu Changge's gaze was too scorching, so hot that Yun Qingyao's heart trembled. She wanted to look away, but her body felt as if it had been immobilized; she could only watch helplessly as the man before her... moved closer, and closer still—

So close that their breathing could be heard, so close that between their lips, only a single line remained.

The cave was silent, with only their interlaced breathing, each breath more rapid than the last.

The pink you su fragrance permeated and entwined in the air, tightly wrapping around the two of them.

Yun Qingyao's plain white dress shimmered with a hazy light in the dimness; her lapel was slightly disheveled, revealing a section of her exquisite collarbone and the alluring curve beneath, rising and falling with her slightly fluctuating breathing.

And Mu Changge's hand was still firmly locked on her lower back, his palm pressed against the soft flesh of her waist, his temperature scorching.

Time seemed to stand still at this moment.

Then, under Yun Qingyao's blank, lost gaze, Mu Changge slowly lowered his head—

But he did not kiss her lips.

Mu Changge's lips finally stopped beside the corner of her mouth, gently brushing against her flushed earlobe, his hoarse voice mixed with scorching breath drilling into her ear canal:

"Sen... Senior Sister, I seem to... seem to be a bit not right..."

The moment his words fell, the hand he had locked on Yun Qingyao's waist finally stopped moving randomly; instead, his fingertips picked open the first delicate knot of the belt at her waist.

"Click."

The extremely light sound of silk loosening was clearly audible in the silent cave.

Yun Qingyao froze, her pupils dilating suddenly.

Meanwhile, Mu Changge had already closed his eyes, as if he had exhausted his last ounce of strength. His entire body slumped against her shoulder, his scorching cheek pressing against the skin of her neck, as he took a deep, ragged breath:

"So... so hot... Senior Sister... I am so hot..."

Mu Changge murmured in a low voice, yet his arms remained tightly wrapped around Yun Qingyao.

"!!!"

In that moment, the string in Yun Qingyao's mind known as reason—snapped.

...

Meanwhile, in another part of the Secret Realm, at the broken valley where Mu Changge and Jian Wushuang had previously battled.

The land was devastated, covered in crisscrossing gullies and deep pits. The charred earth still held remnants of violent spiritual power and faint, lingering traces of Devilish Qi, while the air remained thick with the smell of smoke and blood. Most of the jagged rocks had been ground into powder, and sharp Sword Qi still remained on several ruined walls, emitting a bone-chilling cold light. Clearly, a fierce and tragic battle had just taken place here.

"Swish! Swish! Swish!"

The sound of things piercing through the air rang out as over a dozen streaks of light descended, revealing the figures of Disciples from various Sects. They looked around this scene of devastation with suspicion and unease.

"What a tragic battle! This Sword Qi... sharp and pure, it was unleashed by an extremely skilled Sword Cultivator!" A man carrying an ancient sword on his back said with a solemn expression, sensing the Sword Intent that had not yet dissipated from the air.

"It is not just Sword Qi," a youth with a mark on his forehead frowned, "there is also an extremely evil power remaining, filled with a sense of dead silence and destruction, which is deeply unsettling. Looking at these signs of destruction, most of it was caused by the collision of these two forces."

"Judging by the extent of the destruction, the cultivation of those who fought is definitely above ours, at least Soul Transformation Middle or Late Stage, or perhaps... even higher!" Another burly man wearing Daoist robes crouched down, touched a sword mark on the ground that was several feet deep with edges as smooth as a mirror, and gasped.

Upon hearing this, everyone's expressions became even more serious. They spread out their senses and carefully investigated the battlefield. Soon, someone let out an exclamation.

"Look! There is a severed arm over there!" someone exclaimed.

Everyone gathered around, seeing the severed arm and the remnants of a Wandao Sword Sect Core Disciple's clothing on it.

"It is someone from the Wandao Sword Sect! Looking at the strength of the remaining Sword Intent, this is definitely not an ordinary Disciple. Could it be... that Saint, Jian Wushuang?" someone speculated, drawing a collective gasp. Jian Wushuang was famous, and if it really was him who lost an arm here, what kind of person must his opponent be?

"Amitabha."

A clear and peaceful Buddhist chant rang out. Everyone looked toward the sound and saw a young monk dressed in simple gray robes, with a handsome face and clear eyes, walking over slowly. It was none other than Wu Xin, a rather well-known Disciple of this generation from Mount Sumeru.

Someone recognized the newcomer and whispered. Among the younger generation of Mount Sumeru, although Wu Xin was far less eye-catching than those Buddha Sons, his good deeds and actions had long been widely known.

The little monk approached, bowed to everyone with his hands pressed together, and swept his calm gaze across the battlefield, finally resting on the severed arm. He did not speak immediately but slowly closed his eyes, pressed his palms together, and silently recited scriptures. A faint, soft Buddhist light emerged from his body, carrying a strange power of purification and perception, quietly spreading out and brushing over every inch of the battlefield and every lingering trace of Qi.

A moment later, he opened his eyes, a rare hint of solemnity flashing in his clear gaze.

"Fellow Daoist Wu Xin, have you discovered something?" a Cultivator who knew him asked respectfully.

Monk Wu Xin nodded slightly, his voice peaceful yet clearly reaching everyone's ears: "The Qi here is complex. After sensing it with my Buddhist Divine Ability, I can roughly distinguish three distinct lingering auras."

"Three?" Everyone was surprised. Most of them had only felt the violent Sword Qi and that evil power of dead silence (Devilish Qi).

"Indeed." Monk Wu Xin pointed to several of the deepest gullies. "The first, and most obvious, is this sharp and unparalleled Sword Intent, its edge fully exposed; it was undoubtedly left by a Fellow Daoist from the Wandao Sword Sect. Looking at the remaining Sword Intent, this Fellow Daoist has profound cultivation and must be a leader among the younger generation of the Sword Sect." He paused, his gaze turning to the severed arm. "It is just a pity that this unfortunate Fellow Daoist was heavily injured by another power."

"Is it that evil power of dead silence?" someone asked anxiously.

"It is, but not entirely." Monk Wu Xin shook his head slightly and pointed to several traces of destruction that looked ordinary but had exceptionally smooth and flat edges. "That power of dead silence is only the surface. What really caused that person from the Sword Sect to sever his arm and flee is actually a more... unfathomable power. It is ethereal, misty, yet treacherous and unpredictable, faintly transcending the level of this Realm. To me, it does not feel like mortal power, but rather like the means of some higher-status existence, or power borrowed from one. This Fellow Daoist from the Wandao Sword Sect was injured by this power, forcing him to sever his arm to survive."

Everyone was shocked. Transcending the level? Higher-status existence? Could it be that some old monster at the Void Refining stage or even higher had secretly intervened? But did the Secret Realm not restrict bone age and cultivation? How did it get in?

Monk Wu Xin seemed to know what everyone was thinking and continued: "Although this power is terrifying, it is extremely unstable. It seems like a fleeting appearance, or perhaps it was unleashed in a special way, borrowing someone else's hand to deliver a single strike."

Everyone was a bit confused. Three types of Qi? The Sword Intent naturally belonged to the person from the Sword Sect, the evil dead-silent Qi belonged to a second unknown person, and there was also a mysterious, ethereal, and transcendent existence?

"Does Senior Brother Wu Xin mean... that three people fought here?" the man carrying the ancient sword summarized.

"At the very least, three completely different forces collided here." Monk Wu Xin said with certainty. "The Fellow Daoist from the Wandao Sword Sect must have first fought with that evil, dead-silent person, then that high-status ethereal power intervened, heavily injuring the Sword Sect Fellow Daoist, and that person's... aura faded away as well. The Sword Sect Fellow Daoist then severed his arm and fled."

His gaze fell back on the severed arm, his voice slightly heavy: "I fear these two are by no means ordinary people. Fellow Daoists, this trip to the Secret Realm will likely be a gathering of storms and surging undercurrents. You must be careful."

His words were clear and logical, and his deductions reasonable, dissecting the complex lingering Qi on the battlefield with perfect clarity. If Mu Changge were here to hear his analysis, he might even give him a thumbs up.

After digesting this analysis and explanation from the little monk Wu Xin, everyone could not help but feel heavy-hearted. A Prodigy suspected to be the Sword Sect Saint had been heavily injured by a mysterious, high-status power, there was one person of unknown identity who might be closely related to this matter, and then there was that mysterious existence that had unleashed that terrifying ethereal power...

"Could it be that there is a powerful Demonic Cultivator in the Secret Realm?" the burly man in Daoist robes said solemnly, his face showing a look of wariness.

"It is not necessarily that a Devil Head has arrived in person," Monk Wu Xin shook his head slowly, his gaze deep. "Although the traces of battle here are strong, that Sword Sect Disciple still had the means to escape, which shows that the gap in Realm between the two sides was not particularly large. It is more likely that... among the two combatants, one of them practiced an advanced Demonic Technique, or possessed a precious treasure related to the Demon Race."

"However..." he paused, his gaze sweeping over the severed arm again. "Judging from the lingering Qi on this severed arm and the pattern on the sleeve, it is undoubtedly a Core Disciple or higher of the Wandao Sword Sect, and their cultivation and combat power are extremely high. To be able to force them to sever their arm to survive, the person they fought against must not be underestimated. Fellow Daoists, there may be people hiding in the Secret Realm who possess strange Demonic Techniques, so you must be extra careful in your actions."

Everyone looked at each other, all feeling that this Secret Realm had suddenly become fraught with danger.

"Thank you for your guidance, Fellow Daoist Wu Xin. This matter is of great importance; we must quickly spread the news and remind our fellow Disciples from various Sects to be careful," the man carrying the ancient sword said, cupping his hands.

Monk Wu Xin pressed his palms together and returned the bow: "Amitabha, excellent! Excellent! This place is not suitable for lingering, I shall take my leave first."

Soon, everyone left one after another, filled with shock and vigilance. The valley returned to silence, leaving only the traces of the battle and Monk Wu Xin's unsettling deductions quietly fermenting in the air.