Zhu Siyao’s expression changed dramatically, countless cruel images flashing through her mind in an instant.
It was as if, after she bullied Jiang Huai, Jiang Huai would turn around and fiercely whip her mother’s backside to vent his anger and get revenge.
That’s definitely how it would be! Birds of a feather flock together! Qin Qingyue is a wicked dragon—how could Jiang Huai be a good person?!
But she still had to go to the Secret Realm. She wanted to become stronger, strong enough to snatch her mother back!
So what if she had the Celestial Immortal Form?!
At that time, Zhu Siyao hadn’t even reached Core Formation, let alone experienced the true pressure of the Great Ascension Stage, and she lacked a clear understanding of the terrifying power those four words “Celestial Immortal Form” represented.
The night was deep.
The Xianzhou glided silently above the clouds, only the starlight spilling silver through the porthole.
Inside, the candle had been extinguished, leaving only the cold clarity of moonlight.
Jiang Huai lay on the soft Cloud Bed, his body weary, his mind, however, still scattered from the day’s events.
After all, he was only at the Qi Refining stage; his energy was nothing compared to those around him, who were all at the Merge or even Great Ascension.
As soon as he closed his eyes, preparing to drift into sleep, a cold, slick sensation silently coiled around his waist and abdomen.
“Husband…”
Qin Qingyue’s voice was tinged with a lazy huskiness, exceptionally clear and alluring in the stillness.
She had not returned to human form, still a two-finger-wide inky Little Black Dragon, now winding nimbly across his body.
Tiny, fine scales brushed his skin, bringing a cool, ticklish sensation.
Jiang Huai’s body stiffened. He sighed helplessly, “Qingyue, stop it. It’s late—let me rest.”
But the Little Black Dragon ignored him, rubbing her small dragon head affectionately against his jaw, her tail slipping even further under his robe to glide across his warm chest.
The cold touch jolted Jiang Huai.
“What’s wrong?” Qin Qingyue’s tone was full of mischief, her scarlet dragon eyes glinting slyly in the moonlight.
“Because I took on dragon form, you don’t love me anymore? You dislike how I look?” Her dragon tail playfully flicked across Jiang Huai, making him inhale sharply.
“It’s not that.”
Jiang Huai tried to catch the mischievous tail, but her slender, slippery body eluded his grasp.
“It’s just… this feels very strange.”
Being entwined so closely by a dragon—even knowing it was her—still gave him a strange feeling.
Who could calmly accept being wound around by a Black Dragon as they tried to sleep?
“Strange?” Qin Qingyue chuckled softly, her dragon body tightening around him, holding him in an unbreakable grip.
She breathed softly at the hollow of his neck, warm breath brushing his skin.
“What’s strange about it? Hm? We’re husband and wife, so entwined love is only natural.”
“It’s just a different form, and you can’t take it?” Her tone carried a barely discernible hint of dominance and possessiveness.
Whatever unease Wu Zhaohua had brought during the day seemed to be wiped away completely in this intimacy.
Her dragon tail continued its reckless “patrol” over his body, sliding from chest to waist, then ambiguously probing toward his legs.
The mix of cold and warmth sent shudders through Jiang Huai that he couldn’t describe.
Tiny dragon claws lightly scratched at the inside of his arm, sending tingling, ticklish sensations.
“Husband—” her voice lowered, seductive, as her dragon tongue flicked teasingly at his earlobe.
“Isn’t my dragon body better? More flexible… and more… convenient…”
Her dragon body wound wildly about him, coiling, rubbing, brazen and provocative, paying no heed to Jiang Huai’s stiffness or his feeble attempts to push her away.
Icy scales pressed close to his heated skin, while Qin Qingyue’s dragon eyes locked on his, filled with naked desire and a hint of mischievous triumph.
“Can’t you become human?” Jiang Huai said helplessly.
“But you’re already reacting.” Qin Qingyue’s voice was honestly confused, her tail wickedly nudging him again.
“Do you really dislike me like this?” There was even a faint hint of grievance in her tone.
What was this—her husband was of the Dragon Clan, so accepting her dragon form should be completely normal, right?
Jiang Huai freed a hand, gently stroking her delicate Black Dragon Horn, the touch smooth and soft, as he sighed:
“It’s not that I dislike it. You’re very cute, and beautiful too—your dragon form is lovely.”
“But that has nothing to do with it, and also…”
He pointed toward the Heavenly Silk Veil: “Can you make those two leave? What are they doing here?”
Outside the veil, Zhuxin and Su Yingman were like two statues.
Su Yingman sat with her eyes closed, seemingly lost in cultivation.
Zhuxin, eyes shut as if to block everything out, was actually forced to listen to the affectionate sounds from within the veil.
Her heart was ice cold.
She already understood what Jiang Huai needed, and feared her own bit of primordial yin was doomed.
Her cultivation path might really end here.
“It’s nothing. Doesn’t hinder your cultivation.”
“And in a few days, aren’t you going to break through to Foundation Establishment?” Qin Qingyue gently pressed.
“Let them go back. I don’t need anyone watching me—I want to sleep.” Jiang Huai’s voice grew lower and lower, eyelids heavy as mountains.
He really couldn’t hold on anymore; drowsiness flooded him, blurring his vision, consciousness fading, even his voice slurred and dreamlike.
“Don’t sleep. If you sleep, what am I supposed to eat?” Qin Qingyue sounded a bit unhappy, her dragon form wriggling restlessly.
She paused, a sly glint flashing in her crimson eyes: “If you don’t answer, I’ll help myself.”
Before her words faded, her inky, jade-like body tightened even more, coiling around him in a possessive, impossibly agile embrace.
Listening to the sounds within the veil, Zhuxin’s thoughts ran wild; she couldn’t calm her heart.
The faint, rustling sounds of fabric, the barely restrained breaths, and Qin Qingyue’s lazy voice…
All of it drilled into her ears with unbearable clarity.
Her body trembled uncontrollably—not from cold, but from something else.
It seemed that ever since that morning, the suppression in her heart had cracked open, and there was no way to close it again.
Su Yingman quietly opened her eyes, glancing at Zhuxin beside her, lips curling with disdain.
A woman who dares not face her own desires yet still looks down on me.
Just wait—I’ll make you cry out too.
Wenxuan Sect, on the peak of Solitary Peak.
Wu Zhaohua, meditating in the courtyard, suddenly stiffened, her breathing instantly heavy and erratic.
It was the Spirit Sword Pattern she had personally drawn.
Now, that pattern clearly sent out a strange fluctuation—that Black Dragon.
Wu Zhaohua’s eyes flew open, her heart seized as if by an invisible hand—sour, aggrieved.
She forced her eyes shut, running her Heart Law, trying to suppress that heartbreaking sensation from the Yuxian Vessel.
Don’t sense it, can’t sense it; she and Jiang Huai were already nothing to each other.
But while perception could be suppressed, the sourness spread through her heart, unbearably bitter.