With this confidence, Fan Zhuo took a step forward, heading toward Ye Ying’s cell.
Standing before the door, he steadied his mind and pressed his hand against the recognition panel.
After a slight ripple of energy flowed, the door silently slid open to one side.
The scene beyond the door shattered the fragile psychological defense Fan Zhuo had just built.
It was still the familiar tatami mats and elegant shoji doors.
Only now, in the center of the room, there was an extra large bathtub carved from a single massive log.
Mist rose gently from the water, shrouding the entire room in a soft haze.
On the surface floated a layer of vivid red rose petals, fresh and dripping with color.
Beneath that silken red blanket, a snowy white, graceful curve shimmered faintly.
Ye Ying sat with her back to him, leaning against the edge of the tub.
Her waterfall-like black hair was loosely pinned up with a rustic wooden hairpin, revealing a smooth, slender neck and exquisitely shaped collarbones fit to nurture fish.
Steam dampened the tips of her hair, and a few playful strands clung to her pale, silky back, adding an extra layer of seduction.
Nine fluffy, oversized snow-white fox tails lazily draped over the side of the tub, one tail’s tip unconsciously dipped into the water, gently stirring the pool’s springtime colors.
“Gigglegiggle… Little one, you finally came.”
Ye Ying didn’t turn around, just let out a silvery laugh that echoed in the mist, carrying a charm that seemed to crawl into the bones.
“So, did you only gather the courage to come see me after… ‘letting off steam’ with your little Puppet Maid?”
Fan Zhuo’s cheeks instantly burned red.
He forced himself to look away from the scene that could break any man’s resolve and instead fixed his gaze on a stone table in the courtyard corner.
“I’ve come to fulfill my promise,” Fan Zhuo said with a steady, cold voice, trying not to let a hint of wavering slip in. “But you need to show your sincerity too.”
“Hm? My sincerity?”
Ye Ying laughed softly and slowly turned around, resting her upper body on the edge of the tub with her arms crossed and chin nestled in her hands.
Her soul-capturing amber eyes looked at him with a bright smile.
The petals on the water scattered with her movement, revealing her white, round, fragrant shoulder, and…
“My current state isn’t sincere enough?” She tilted her head, innocent yet enticing. “This scene is only for you to see~”
Fan Zhuo’s Adam’s apple rolled uncontrollably.
He realized he had been terribly mistaken.
He thought suppressing the desire inside would calm his mind like still water.
But Ye Ying before him was a walking arsonist radiating a deadly allure every moment!
“I… I meant sincerity regarding more information on the ‘heretics,’” Fan Zhuo forced himself to meet her gaze, making sure his eyes didn’t drift downward.
Ye Ying pouted in displeasure.
She extended a slender finger to lightly skim the water surface, sending out ripples.
“Fine, since our little Cleric is so impatient, I’ll tell you a bit more.”
“But don’t forget, after I speak… you owe me some affection~”
She licked her full red lips, lowering her voice a few degrees:
“That handsome man named Lucien came here not just to investigate that ‘thing from the sky,’ but for something even more important.”
“He… is searching for a key.”
“A key?” Fan Zhuo frowned.
“Yes, a key that can open the Divine Gate,” Ye Ying’s eyes deepened.
“Legend has it, in the ancient era when the gods left this world, they left behind seven keys scattered across the lands. Collect all seven, and you can reopen the gateway to the Divine Realm and receive the gods’ blessing…”
“And the Asphodel Prison—or rather, what this prison suppresses—is the ‘vessel’ of one of those keys.”
A raging tide swelled within Fan Zhuo’s heart.
The Divine Gate? Seven keys?
This information was far beyond anything he had known in the past three years.
The Mechanical Holy Church he belonged to worshipped the “God as the supreme Divine Will of Machinery, with progress as the only gospel.”
They pursued analyzing the world through technology and runes, never once mentioning the Divine Gate.
This was clearly a secret circulated only in the higher echelons of the Holy Church Empire, perhaps even within the Originalist Faction.
“Why do you know this?” Fan Zhuo asked in a low voice.
“Because…” Ye Ying’s face showed a complex expression of nostalgia mixed with sorrow, but it quickly shifted to a wicked grin. “I can slowly tell you more during the ‘comforting’ process later.”
She returned to her lazy, seductive demeanor and beckoned Fan Zhuo with a finger. “I’ve given you the intel; now it’s your turn to… ‘comfort’ me.”
Fan Zhuo fell silent.
He looked at Ye Ying’s radiant smile through the mist, his inner balance shifting wildly.
Reason told him this fox was extremely dangerous and touching her could have unpredictable consequences.
But deep within, a craving for power—and a love born from his soul for ‘non-human existence’—urged him wildly: Go on, touch her.
She won’t hurt you.
She will make you stronger.
This voice played like a little devil whispering endlessly in his ear.
“Still hesitating?” Ye Ying seemed to see through his struggle. She chuckled lightly and suddenly stood up from the tub.
Splash—
The clear sound of water accompanied by droplets flying.
Fan Zhuo’s breath froze completely; his mind buzzed blank.
What was he seeing?
That overwhelming pressure… like a submarine surfacing?
Even though Ye Ying covered half of it with her hand, without the shield of holy light, Fan Zhuo felt a familiar stir of blood rising in his nose again.
“Pft.” Ye Ying laughed at his stunned expression.
Crossing her arms, she stepped out of the tub barefoot and approached him.
“Little one, your face looks like you want to tear me apart alive.”
She reached out her slender, water-droplet-covered hand and gently tapped his lips.
The cold touch jolted Fan Zhuo back to reality.
Ye Ying raised her index finger to her lips, amber eyes glittering mischievously. “Help me… dry my hair.”
“Shh.”
She said as she shoved a soft towel into Fan Zhuo’s stiff hand.
He looked down at the towel, then up again at the breathtakingly beautiful face so close, and the nine huge, fluffy tails swaying restlessly behind her.
He felt like he wasn’t here to make a deal.
He was here to face a trial.
Fan Zhuo mechanically took the towel and clumsily began drying her wet hair.
His movements were stiff; his eyes dared not wander.
Ye Ying chuckled softly, clearly enjoying his pure, innocent demeanor.
She simply turned her back to him, exposing her smooth, slippery back completely.
“Focus, little Cleric.”
Fan Zhuo’s gaze uncontrollably dropped to her back.
It was a perfect, flawless sheet of snowy white.
Her slender waist rose upward, but her back didn’t look overly thin; instead, it held just the right amount of warm, supple flesh.
The two beautiful collarbones flickered in and out with her slight movements.
“Your back… why is it… both fat and thin…” Fan Zhuo, trying to divert his attention, babbled nonsense.
“Hm?” Ye Ying answered lazily, as if she knew what he was thinking. “A girl’s back has to be stronger to support the weight in front, or else she’d have collapsed long ago.”
Her words were casual but struck like a torpedo in Fan Zhuo’s mind.
Support… the weight in front…
Wait, no more thinking…
He felt the holy power inside him start to stir uncontrollably, like boiling water about to spill.
This surge was fiercer than ever before, even giving him the illusion that if he didn’t think of something else, this violent holy force might overwhelm him on the spot.
Just then, seemingly bored, Ye Ying dropped a piece of Cherry Blossom Soap she had been playing with between her fingers. It fell with a soft plop at Fan Zhuo’s feet.
“Oh dear~”