Chapter 08: Everyone Must Punish

The Morning After

Pei Ningxue soon draped her leg over Gu Chi and fell asleep.

Gu Chi didn’t think he was taking advantage of her—she owed the lodging fee.

Who made her so beautiful, figure so tempting, fragrance so sweet?

Every night beside him, she tormented his desires, leaving him restless.

Thankfully, he’d drunk plenty tonight.

Adjusting his position, he hugged her fragrant, soft thighs and slept soundly.

Morning, misty rain.

Waking, Pei Ningxue’s skirt was disheveled.

The ties of her gold-threaded undergarment seemed undone, loosely clinging to her snow-white chest, its curves making Gu Chi steal glances.

Until she woke in his arms.

She sat up, stretched lazily, rubbed messy hair, turned to Gu Chi.

Reached to poke him—swatted away.

“So cute.”

Pei Ningxue got off the bed, went to the mirror to groom.

Watching her comb her long hair, Gu Chi felt an odd illusion of being an old married couple.

Yet she never let him touch.

He wanted to, but she always had excuses: not ready, didn’t want to widow, or a poison spirit in her—if dual cultivated, he’d die with his cultivation.

Florid excuses, endless.

Gu Chi gave up—she still coaxed him occasionally.

She quickly finished her hair, came to him, grabbed a pillow, covered his face—time to change.

He’d seen her bare before.

Once drunk, she insisted on bathing together in the spring, flower dew smeared between thighs, rubbing against him.

Her words: if he saw her naked daily, she’d lose her hold over him.

So openly she admitted her control.

When done, Gu Chi saw her in a cyan daoist robe, hair pinned up, face bare of makeup, exuding cool detachment.

No matter how often seen, still unfamiliar.

She had two faces: seductive and wicked with him, cold and aloof outside, seeming frail like a white flower.

Anyone believing her softness suffered.

Gu Chi dressed casually but was dragged to the mirror.

She used her shrunken flying sword to shave him, warning.

“Don’t move, or if I ruin your pretty face, I won’t pay.”

Gu Chi wanted to laugh but held it back.

Journey to Tiger Soul Mountain

Their trip: Tiger Soul Mountain.

Three months ago, in Red Maple Domain, a heaven-nurtured lingzhi appeared.

Above fifth realm, cultivators scoffed; below, it was a treasure.

Gu Chi and Pei Ningxue sought it.

They found it first, guarded by a beast.

They leaked news, luring rogue cultivators to tangle with the guarding gibbon.

They stole the lingzhi amid chaos.

Chased by rogues, they shook most off.

One late Core Formation demonic cultivator caught up.

They lured him to barren hills, killed him together.

Before, Gu Chi used his Demon Dragon Gu to control his mind, extracting his base location—Tiger Soul Mountain.

This wasn’t about righteous duty or saving the world.

Gu Chi was hungry.

His Demon Dragon Gu craved constantly.

When starved, it gnawed his heart—already riddled with holes.

He needed what it loved to keep it quiet.

All demonic cultivators used gu as foundation.

The top-tier Demon Dragon Gu loved low-tier gu insects.

Demonic cultivators betrayed, devoured each other—common.

If they followed rules, were they demonic?

Tiger Soul Mountain took a day and night by sword.

Pei Ningxue rode—her sword shape-shifted, big or small.

Now bed-sized, they played chess atop.

“Think I don’t see? Third time.”

Gu Chi sighed helplessly—she tried cheating again.

Pei Ningxue was shamelessly righteous.

“Can’t big brother let me?”

Her tone soft, pitiable.

Gu Chi loved the tear mole under her left eye, adding charm to her peerless face.

Her legs crossed, under the robe sheer white silk socks with lace cuffs.

Lingyun Pavilion sold silk socks, ornate skirts, elegant shoes, lavish jewelry—female cultivators outspent spirit beasts, outspent men.

A thousand-year legacy.

Gu Chi, bored, read its history, saw familiar plagiarized poems by its master.

But the master ascended—no chance to claim kinship.

Seeing his helpless look, Pei Ningxue stretched long legs, fair calves nearing under robe.

“Touch for brother.”

“Brother sounds nice.”

“If brother likes, I’ll call it in bed too.”

“Only dare say that off bed.”

In bed, she switched—resisted any lustful move.

If overwhelmed, sat opposite, tender feet together.

Removing her undergarments? Impossible.

Gu Chi took off one silk sock, caressed her snow-smooth foot.

Pei Ningxue’s cheeks faintly flushed, shyly compliant.

Half an incense stick later, chess ended—she barely won.

Shyness vanished, instantly smug.

“Some rogue weakens when distracted, tsk.”

Gu Chi pressed her sole hard.

She pulled back, then offered her foot again.

“Sock.”

Gu Chi rolled it neatly, put it on carefully, watching her tender toes stretch, sock tip faintly transparent.

She loved teasing him, relishing his look-but-don’t-touch frustration.

Battle at Tiger Soul Mountain

Foot of Tiger Soul Mountain, midnight.

“Not just us hunting.”

Gu Chi and Pei Ningxue dismounted.

Both late Core Formation.

Peerless geniuses.

Gu Chi reached this at twenty via Demon Dragon Gu and eighth-realm demonic parents’ bloodline.

Pei Ningxue—true prodigy.

Sometimes Gu Chi wondered: really a Southern Domain former princess?

Rumors said Pei royalty there had noble blood, innate divine arts, rapid cultivation.

Her gaze followed his.

Spiritual energy surged on the mountain, distant flying swords flashing.

They exchanged glances, smiled.

What’s more fun than fishing in troubled waters?

No more sword-riding—body techniques sped them up.

Night hid their forms, shadows like ghosts.

One incense stick later, mid-mountain, a scene unfolded.

White-robed cultivators fought grotesque monsters.

By robes, Moon Wheel Sect disciples.

Eastern Domain had countless sects—Moon Wheel first.

Two prodigies: holy son Ji Yi, twenty-two, late Core Formation peak.

Last month in seclusion—disciples predicted Nascent Soul initial at exit, first in three centuries at twenty-two.

Second: holy daughter Fang Xiyu, that weakling.

Moon Wheel, top sect, upheld righteousness, slayed demonic.

Thirteen years ago, their master Ji Qingchen led the grand demon-slaying, was gravely wounded, regressed, passed leadership to deputy Fang Ziyue.

Many disciple trials tracked demonic cultivators.

Confirmed traces meant inner disciples descended, usually four.

Now, four white-robed—three men, one woman—fought monsters with twisted flesh, bone spikes piercing robes, faces distorted.

Demonic used gu for dao, absorbed spiritual energy, needed blood qi.

Fed gu granted host power, turning them monstrous.

Six demonic here.

Gu Chi saw the situation: they were losing to Moon Wheel inner disciples.

The leading two sword cultivators wielded fine swords.

Especially the leader—beside his held sword, a flying sword guarded, slashing demons into desperate parries, wailing.

Gu Chi and Pei Ningxue exchanged glances.

“All demonic deserve death!

Passing by, we see friends uphold justice—fear not, we aid you!”

They leaped into battle.