After Ye Ping’an left the room, Ye Mengyao couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.
She recalled how her senior brother had gently caressed her lower abdomen, seemingly fond of it, and her gaze instinctively drifted downward to her own stomach.
Suddenly, she froze. What is this?
On her lower abdomen, there was a faint, intricate pattern, barely visible.
For some reason, Ye Mengyao felt an instinctive aversion to it, a deep-seated repulsion she couldn’t explain.
She didn’t understand why she felt this way or why such a pattern had appeared on her body. After all, her memories only stretched back a few days.
But then she thought, Perhaps Senior Brother likes this pattern?
With that thought, a flutter of excitement stirred in her heart, quickly overshadowing her unease.
Imagining her senior brother nurturing her meridians again in a week, Ye Mengyao’s cheeks flushed with a soft blush.
She pictured his hands gently brushing over her body, and in a shy flurry, she pulled the blanket over her head.
Unbeknownst to her, as she thought of Ye Ping’an, the pattern on her abdomen began to glow faintly, pulsing in sync with her emotions.
The next morning, Ye Ping’an woke up late.
It wasn’t until nearly noon that he finally stirred, roused by Ye Ningyue’s call. Perhaps due to the excessive strain from the previous night, even after getting up, Ye Ping’an felt sore and utterly exhausted.
His depletion was spiritual—his energy reserves drained, which in turn left his body weak. After all, at his current level of cultivation, his realm was still modest.
“Young Master, are you alright?” Ye Ningyue’s concerned voice broke through.
“I’m… fine. Your Young Master is as fit as a fiddle, eats like a horse, just stayed up late studying a technique,” Ye Ping’an said, patting his chest to reassure her, putting on a facade of vitality to ease her worries.
“Oh, I see! Young Master, you’re so diligent! But you must take care of yourself too! I’ve prepared lunch for you—go eat!” Ye Ningyue replied, her eyes soft with admiration.
Yet, deep inside, her heart ached as she thought, That little vixen must’ve drained him dry! She’s practically a juicer, leaving Young Master in this state, and he’s still covering for her!
Wait… could it be? Was the “technique” he mentioned some improper cultivation method?
The thought struck Ye Ningyue, and her gaze toward Ye Ping’an grew more complex.
Hearing there was food, Ye Ping’an didn’t hesitate. He dragged his weary body out of bed and shuffled to the table, grabbing chopsticks, ready to dig in.
But when he saw the spread, he froze.
Ginseng and lingzhi stewed with pork belly, steamed perch, white fungus and lotus seed soup with goji berries and red dates, black sesame and walnut bread, fleeceflower root and pork rib soup, and scallop-steamed eggs.
These dishes, made with rare and precious ingredients, were a testament to Ye Ningyue’s culinary skills, honed over the past two years.
The aroma, color, and presentation were flawless, each dish a masterpiece that teased Ye Ping’an’s senses, making his mouth water despite his exhaustion.
But… every single dish was designed to nourish yin and bolster yang.
Glancing at his frail frame and then at the table laden with food, Ye Ping’an wondered if eating all this would overwhelm his already depleted body.
“Young Master, why aren’t you eating? Is it not to your taste?” Ye Ningyue asked, feigning confusion with a touch of hopeful innocence in her expression, as if she’d poured her heart into preparing this meal and was eagerly awaiting his delighted reaction.
“No… it’s just that today’s dishes are very much to my taste,” Ye Ping’an replied, meeting her expectant gaze.
He brushed off his doubts, thinking he was overanalyzing. Not wanting to disappoint her efforts, he picked up a piece of fish and popped it into his mouth.
His eyes lit up instantly, sparkling with delight. Throwing caution to the wind, he began to devour the meal with gusto, heedless of whether his body could handle the nourishment.
“Slow down, Young Master!” Ye Ningyue beamed, her face alight with joy, as if his voracious eating was the greatest reward for her efforts.
“Mmm! Mmm!” Ye Ping’an mumbled in response, too busy eating to pause.
Beneath her smile, however, Ye Ningyue’s lips curled into a sly smirk. She’d been preparing this meal since dawn, convinced that such nourishing dishes would strengthen her Young Master.
Soon, that little vixen wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. When he reached his limit, he’d have no choice but to turn to her.
And this virtuous, wife-like demeanor of hers? That fox could never hope to match it.
***
After the meal, whether due to the miraculous properties of the ingredients or simply having food in his stomach, Ye Ping’an felt his strength returning.
Still, he couldn’t shake the odd feeling that Ye Ningyue had been watching him the entire time without eating herself. If not for her normal expression, he might’ve suspected she knew something.
Thankfully, the nourishing effects of the meal were gentle, and Ye Ping’an experienced no adverse reactions.
With his body somewhat recovered, it was time to think about the future.
Ye Ping’an was eight years old now. The Blood Demon would invade when he turned fifteen, meaning less than seven years remained until the Blood Demon’s attack and the destruction of the Xuanxing Sect.
Given his junior sister’s extraordinary talent, under normal circumstances, even with minimal resources, she could reach the late Foundation Establishment stage within seven years.
With some fortunate opportunities, she might even break through to the Nascent Soul stage.
The Blood Demon, though at the mid-Nascent Soul stage, was severely injured, its true combat strength barely at the early Nascent Soul level.
If his junior sister grew strong enough, she’d have a fighting chance against it.
But a chance was just that—a chance. Ye Ping’an knew the plot well. Though the Blood Demon’s regular strength was diminished, it could unleash a secret technique to temporarily restore its full power.
Against that, his junior sister’s odds of victory plummeted far below certain, nowhere near guaranteed.
After all, no matter how gifted a young cultivator of a few years was, facing a Blood Demon with centuries of experience was a daunting prospect. The outcome was far from certain.
And most crucially, the threat of death didn’t solely come from the Blood Demon.