Chapter 165: Changes Within and Without

Chi Lian lowered her head and said softly,

“I am willing……”

It now seemed that Jiang Huai was destined to marry an esteemed member of the Red Dragon Clan and bring her back to the Nine Heavens Palace—there was no escaping this fate.

Along this journey, Jiang Huai’s conduct spoke for itself.

Perhaps, it wasn’t such a bad ending after all.

Jiang Huai heard her words and said no more.

He took Chi Lian’s hand and quickly led her toward a relatively intact Side Chamber behind the Ancestral Hall, a place that could offer some cover.

Chihuang stood in place, watching the two disappear through the Side Chamber entrance.

Outside, the Resentful Spirit continued to assault the barrier, its howls echoing without end.

In silence, slowly and carefully, she began buttoning up her clothes—one button after another, the very ones she had just undone.

Her face was cold as ice.

He could tell that I’m the Saintess, couldn’t he? He actually knows, right?

What does this mean? I’ve already said I was willing to give myself to him, yet he chose our family’s maid?

Objectively speaking, this should have been a good thing for her, yet at this moment her feelings were far from pleasant—complex, sour, and bitter.

Hmph, so he doesn’t want me? Well, that’s just as well—I don’t want to be his concubine anyway.

What woman in this world would want to marry a man as his concubine?

Chihuang raised her hand and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with force.

Clutching her longsword tightly, she turned to face the endless Clan Soul Resentful Spirits, straightening her back and pointing the cold blade forward.

For her people, and for the only hope that might be born within that Side Chamber—kill!

Inside the Side Chamber, shadows flickered.

Time was pressing—there was no room for even the slightest hint of romance.

Chi Lian faced away from the entrance, her delicate figure trembling slightly.

The luxurious Saintess robe had already slid down to her waist, revealing a vast expanse of smooth, fair skin.

Just as with all members of the Red Dragon Clan after transforming, her figure was astoundingly mature and voluptuous, far beyond her years.

Her shoulders and back were full and round.

Her waist, though slender, gave way to hips that suddenly arched outward with a fullness like a round moon—plump and heavy, a strong contrast with her slim waist, exuding a primitive and alluring charm.

She was so shy she almost wanted to bury herself, but out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of Jiang Huai after he removed his upper garment—the intersecting black Dragon Mark, white Dragon Mark, and Spirit Sword Pattern across his body.

Those mysterious markings emanated a powerful aura of different attributes.

Seeing Chi Lian’s ears flush red and her limbs at a loss, Jiang Huai, who was rapidly spreading a makeshift blanket, tried to ease the tense atmosphere and spoke in a low voice,

“Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve met a woman as easily embarrassed as you.”

In this world, shaped deeply by matriarchal values, such bashful women were indeed rare.

Chi Lian’s gaze dimmed for a moment, childhood memories of contempt and rejection due to her low status surging back in an instant.

She forced a bitter smile, looking out toward the clash of weapons and the Resentful Spirits’ howls outside, and whispered,

“I also want to be as strong, brave, and cheerful as Miss. But I feel like…I’ll never be able to do it.”

A person’s nature is set by birth, yet sculpted by experience.

She had long since accepted her fate.

“You will.”

Jiang Huai stopped what he was doing and came to stand before her.

“You will find your own confidence.” This was not comfort, but a promise.

But now was certainly not the time for conversation.

“There’s no time to talk now.” Jiang Huai no longer hesitated.

Chi Lian watched him draw closer, forcing herself to suppress her shyness.

Following a hazy instinct, she knelt on the blanket, her slender, trembling hands gently reaching out to hold him—yet she was utterly at a loss and looked up,

“I…how should I do this?”

“I’ll help you.” Jiang Huai’s voice was low.

One hand supported her slightly retreating waist, while the other had already gathered a pure mix of Yin and Yang energy, a strange touch of coolness and warmth entwined, pressing precisely onto her…

“Ah!”

Chi Lian arched her neck abruptly, letting out a short, sharp cry.

A scorching torrent erupted in an instant from the depths of her dantian, sweeping through her whole body.

Her skin flushed pink, fragrant sweat beading instantly and tracing down her voluptuous curves.

A dizzying mix of soreness, tingling, swelling, and itching nearly made her collapse.

The Yin-Yang Body was indeed terrifying in this aspect.

Jiang Huai naturally wasted no more time.

There were people outside fighting for their lives—how could he afford to delay?

He held her weak, boneless waist, his own hips…

“Ugh—ah—!”

Chi Lian’s fingernails unconsciously dug into Jiang Huai’s arm.

She could distinctly feel a pure force, her own Red Dragon Primordial Yin, break loose like a flood and be wildly drawn into his mysterious markings, utterly beyond her control.

Spirit and flesh, driven by a crisis of life and death, skipped every tender moment and plunged directly into the most primal, most intense act.

Within the Side Chamber, the sound of panting and gasps intertwined, forming a song utterly different from the slaughter outside—a tune that would make one’s face burn.

And all these sounds, without missing a single note, were heard by Chihuang, who fought with her life at the door.

Her sword swings grew more vicious, the Sword Qi howled, every slash infused with an unspoken frustration and rage.

Her pale face, inexplicably, now showed a strange flush from this stimulation.

Her pair of crimson dragon eyes burned even brighter than before—was it from battle, or something else?

Chihuang gave a clear shout, pouring her Dragon Essence into her sword without reserve.

The blazing Sword Qi lashed out like a burning ribbon, sweeping across the battlefield.

Yet she held back, only forcing the Resentful Spirits to retreat and disperse, never truly obliterating their already shattered souls.

These were her clansmen—pitiful spirits, cursed and bound for ten thousand years.

However, the Resentful Spirits were endless, and the demonic pressure radiating from the corrupted Ancestor of the Red Dragon constantly eroded her strength.

Her complexion paled visibly, her breath grew hurried, her sword arm began to tremble, and even those once-brilliant red Dragon Horns now seemed tinged with a faint, ominous gray.

Just as she felt her Dragon Essence about to run dry and her defenses on the verge of collapse—

“Mm…ngh….”

A sound—subtle, yet perfectly clear, laced with suppressed sobs and unbearable sweetness—pierced through the barrier and the clamor of battle, drilling straight into her ears.

Chihuang’s sword froze mid-swing.

At once, more ambiguous noises trickled in—rustling garments, heavier breaths, and now and then Chi Lian’s low, tearful yet sweetly submissive moans:

“Jiang…Young Master Jiang…”

“Harder…a little harder.”

Those sounds seemed to carry a peculiar magic.

Her vision, blurred by exhaustion, suddenly flared to life with a burning light!

A surge of anger and jealousy, from who knows where, shot up from the depths of her heart.

“Bastard!”

She cursed, not knowing if it was the rampaging demon she meant, or the man inside the Side Chamber driving her to distraction.

Strength seemed to return to her sword, the blade shining with newfound brilliance as she forced back yet another wave of Resentful Spirits by several paces.