On the other side of Sword Peak lay Shen Qingqing’s private side hall.
Completely different from the quiet bamboo courtyard, this hall—though not as grand as the main hall—was lavishly decorated and rich in spiritual energy.
Inside the inner chamber, Fei Wu was rubbing his plump hands together, his face piled with ingratiating smiles as he repeatedly apologized to Shen Qingqing, who sat reclining on a soft couch.
“Junior Sister Qingqing… today—today was my carelessness. I didn’t expect that brat to be so strange!”
“Don’t be angry. Next time—next time Senior Brother will find a chance to teach him a proper lesson. I’ll make him kneel and kowtow in front of you to apologize!”
Shen Qingqing had changed into a light gauze dress, leaning sideways against the couch while idly twirling a lock of her hair.
She couldn’t even be bothered to raise her eyelids. Her voice was cold and impatient.
“That’s enough. Stop annoying me. You can’t even suppress a newly admitted disciple, and you still have the nerve to talk?”
Fei Wu flushed red with embarrassment but dared not flare up. He could only laugh awkwardly.
“Yes, yes, Junior Sister is right… I—I’ll think of a way immediately! I won’t let you down!”
Yet inside, his fury burned.
All the humiliation he suffered in front of Shen Qingqing was because of Fang Xuan. If he didn’t kill Fang Xuan, Fei Wu swore he wouldn’t be human.
Shen Qingqing waved her hand dismissively, as if shooing away a fly.
“You can leave. I’m tired.”
Fei Wu said nothing more and withdrew.
After he left, Shen Qingqing rested on the couch for a while longer before slowly standing up and straightening her dress.
She carefully applied more rouge before the bronze mirror, ensuring she looked sufficiently fragile and pitiful, then swayed gracefully toward the deeper part of the main hall.
Passing through several layers of restrictions, she arrived at an even more secluded meditation chamber.
Inside, Shen Chen, the Sword Peak Lord, sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, eyes closed as he regulated his breathing.
Hearing footsteps, he opened his eyes. When he saw Shen Qingqing, a rare softness appeared on his otherwise stern face.
“Qing’er, why have you come? Is the spirit bone acting up again?”
He beckoned to her.
Shen Qingqing immediately trotted over and nestled directly into his arms, her voice tinged with sobs.
“Father… the root bone area… it’s aching again. My spiritual energy flow feels sluggish too…”
In this private place, she no longer addressed him as Master, but as Father.
Shen Chen held her close, his large hand gently stroking her back while channeling a stream of pure, mild spiritual energy into her.
“Don’t be afraid. Let Father take a look. A newly acquired spirit bone always needs time to harmonize with one’s bloodline. Some rejection is normal. Father will suppress it for you.”
Shen Qingqing shifted in his arms and lifted her delicate, alluring face, her breath warm and fragrant.
“Father… no one will come in here, right?”
Shen Chen’s gaze darkened. His grip tightened slightly, his voice lowered.
“This place is sealed by restrictions. No one can spy it.”
Hearing this, a blush spread across Shen Qingqing’s cheeks.
“Then… then today… Qingqing will stay here… Father, alright…?”
Shen Chen’s breathing stalled. Desire flared in his eyes.
“Hmph… little fairy…”
He muttered, yet his hands moved without pause, skillfully loosening the ties of Shen Qingqing’s gauze dress.
……
After the time it takes an incense stick to burn…
The storm passed.
Shen Qingqing calmly dressed herself again, the seductive traces on her face not yet fully faded.
Shen Chen, however, had already returned to the dignified demeanor of a Peak Lord.
“Father,” Shen Qingqing leaned over and spoke worriedly, “this backlash from the spirit bone… seems to be getting stronger each time. Suppression alone isn’t a long-term solution…”
Shen Chen frowned, thinking for a moment before coldness flashed in his eyes.
“Next time… if it flares up severely, we’ll have Ning Xian transfer some of her origin blood essence to you as well.”
“She was the original owner. Her blood is best suited to pacify this bone.”
Joy flashed briefly through Shen Qingqing’s eyes before she adopted a worried expression.
“This… isn’t that too much? She’s already a cripple. If we take her blood essence again, I’m afraid…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Shen Chen said indifferently.
“Being able to extend your life and heal your bone is her fortune. A useless person still having some final value to offer is her honor.”
“I’ll arrange everything. You don’t need to worry.”
Only then did Shen Qingqing feel fully satisfied, nestling into Shen Chen’s arms.
“Father really treats Qingqing the best…”
……
The perspective returned to the bamboo courtyard in the mountain valley.
“When holding a sword normally, stability and accuracy are key.”
As Ning Xian guided spiritual energy, she lifted a bamboo branch with her other hand to demonstrate.
“The five fingers clasp like a ring, force transmitted through the hilt. The wrist should be steady like cast iron. This applies to most spiritual swords.”
She released Fang Xuan’s wrist and demonstrated with the bamboo branch.
“But for the sword you’re holding… it carries a ferocious, violent force of its own. If you try to forcibly condense momentum, you won’t control it—you’ll be rebounded by its power instead.”
She adjusted her grip, holding the branch in a slightly relaxed, suspended clasp, wrist sinking slightly, elbow leaving some leeway.
“Power should not be concentrated solely in the palm, but distributed through the finger roots, the tiger’s mouth, even extended into the forearm.
“The wrist must be alive—like a willow branch bearing snow. Heavy, yet unbroken. Use yielding force to dissolve its shock, follow its momentum rather than opposing it.”
Fang Xuan watched intently, committing everything to memory.
He could feel this was far beyond an ordinary grip—it was a high-level technique meant to command ferocious weapons.
When Ning Xian said it came from fragmented ancient texts, it was likely extraordinary.
“First, use this method to simulate empty-handed, and become familiar with the force.”
She handed him the bamboo branch.
Fang Xuan took it and tried to imitate her.
At first it felt awkward and weak, but after several adjustments, he gradually sensed its subtleties.
Ning Xian watched quietly, occasionally correcting minor angles.
Fang Xuan was secretly delighted.
Sword posture and grip taught hand-in-hand—this service was way too thorough.
As he practiced, he stole glances at Ning Xian.
Her expression was focused, her gaze clear, completely immersed in teaching her junior brother—utterly free of stray thoughts.
That serious look actually made Fang Xuan feel a little ashamed.
She was teaching so sincerely, with such clean eyes.
If he kept thinking about foot-licking or whipping-type “training plans,” wouldn’t that be… a bit inhuman?
Just as the two little voices in his head battled—one urging task progress, the other moved by Ning Xian’s integrity—
【System Judgment: Host “Sex Slave Fang Xuan,” when faced with Master Ning Xian’s pure and selfless instruction, has generated guilt and taboo stimulation from thoughts of defiling and fantasizing about the Master.】
【This mental activity includes profane fantasies toward the Master’s sacred teaching posture, as well as impulses that are known to be wrong yet difficult to suppress—comforms to a sex slave’s complex taboo desire toward their Master.】
【Behavior Determination: Advanced Mental Training!】
【Training Value +0.5!】
【Major Breakthrough! First single gain exceeding 0.1! Reward advanced: Complete Spirit Bun ×1! Please continue self-training at the mental level!】
Fang Xuan: “……”
The hand holding the bamboo branch froze again.
0.5?!
Just because he felt guilty and morally conflicted, the system judged it as advanced mental training?
And rewarded him with a full bun?!
What kind of training even was this?!
And those words—defilement, profane fantasies—could the system not be this unhinged?
“Junior Brother? Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”
Seeing him suddenly freeze with a strange expression, Ning Xian asked.
“No.”
Fang Xuan snapped back, forcibly swallowing his internal complaints and forcing a smile.
Ning Xian glanced at him but said nothing.
“This technique requires constant practice until it becomes instinct. Only then can it be applied in real combat. We’ll stop here for today.”
She seemed somewhat tired as well; teaching sword momentum and special handling clearly consumed a lot of her focus.
After speaking, she turned and entered her bamboo house, likely to rest.
Fang Xuan watched her slender back disappear through the door, then looked down at the bamboo branch in his hand.
Heh heh heh.
Another big bun secured.
Rate on N.U.
