Getting beaten was all the same no matter who did it, as long as they controlled their strength properly.
Mentor Yu Xuan, as a Six-Star Mystic Master, could certainly manage that much—tempering his muscles and bones without causing him real harm.
“—Mentor, whip me!”
Yan Zhen made the request with utter sincerity.
Mentor Yu Xuan blinked in confusion at first. Then she recalled those peculiar intimate games, and her cheeks flushed as if scorched by fire. She chided him playfully,
“I never would have guessed you had a kink like that. Your mentor isn’t opposed to it, but you’re still so young. It’s best not to dive into these unhealthy pursuits too soon. We can keep it ordinary… Cough. Anyway, I’ll handle those details for you. Your focus should stay on cultivation.”
What? Even though Yan Zhen had a bit of a lecherous streak deep down, it took him a moment to catch on to her misunderstanding. He hurriedly cleared things up.
“You mean tempering your muscles and bones? I thought—” Mentor Yu Xuan’s face burned even brighter. She ducked her head in embarrassment, like an ostrich burying itself in the sand. “Ahem. Whipping with mystic power to refine one’s muscles and bones is a valid method, but it has to be paired with a medicinal bath. And it’s no long-term solution.”
“No worries. I just want to boost my physical toughness so I don’t hurt myself mid-Mystic technique anymore. The medicinal bath’s all prepped too.”
Mentor Yu Xuan nodded.
“Then I’ll give it a try with you.”
Yan Zhen beamed and headed off to the Martial Dao Arena alongside Mentor Yu Xuan.
It wasn’t until nightfall that the two finally emerged. Yan Zhen, utterly drained, leaned on Mentor Yu Xuan for support as she helped him into the carriage. Together, they returned to the estate.
The girls jumped in alarm, fearing something terrible had befallen Yan Zhen. Only after Mentor Yu Xuan explained did they breathe a sigh of relief.
Inside the room, following Yan Zhen’s instructions, Mentor Yu Xuan retrieved the pre-mixed medicinal liquid from his storage ring. She diluted it into the steaming hot water, stripped away all his clothes, and gently lifted his naked form into the tub.
It took quite a while before Yan Zhen could catch his breath. He managed a wan smile.
“Thanks for the trouble, Mentor Yu Xuan.”
Mentor Yu Xuan’s brows furrowed slightly, her eyes brimming with distress.
“How are you feeling?”
—Not great at all! What was I thinking, putting myself through this nonsense? No clue why I even came up with such a stupid method!
Yan Zhen’s voice came out faint and weak.
“It’s nothing. Your control was perfect, Mentor. A good soak in this medicinal broth, and I’ll be right as rain.”
Mentor Yu Xuan rolled up her sleeves and fetched a wooden ladle. She scooped up half a ladleful of the brew and poured it tenderly over Yan Zhen’s shoulders and back. Her slender fingers brushed lightly over his welts, sensing the quiver in his muscles.
She had inflicted every one of those injuries herself with her mystic power lashes. She knew exactly how much they stung. With each strike, she’d nearly faltered—but Yan Zhen’s steely gaze had urged her onward.
To grow stronger, he’d go to such extremes…
“Sigh. Yan Zhen, why push yourself like this? There’s no rush to challenge Xiao Mie. With your talent, surpassing him is just a matter of time. Is it your fiancée putting all this pressure on you?”
—Huh? How does Mentor Yu Xuan know about Wenqing? Did Meng’er and the others spill it?
“No, it’s for me. I had a three-year gap in my cultivation. I need to redouble my efforts just to hit my old benchmarks—and reach even higher.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to… Anyway, I’m not helping tomorrow. Find someone else.”
Her tone carried a hint of petulance, catching Yan Zhen completely off guard.
Ever since they’d met, Mentor Yu Xuan had carried herself with such poise and grace—gentle, approachable, her mentor’s authority blending seamlessly with a woman’s nurturing warmth to form a captivating aura. Time with her felt like a refreshing spring breeze.
This was the first he’d seen her sulk like a petulant little girl. Yan Zhen whipped his head around, wheedling,
“Mentor, come on. I’m counting on you. If not you, then who?”
“Then skip the training.”
Mentor Yu Xuan firmly turned his head back toward the water. She kept ladling the medicinal broth over him, nagging on like a fretful old nursemaid.
“Your mentor thinks you don’t need this sort of regimen right now. Stick to steady cultivation, and hitting Seven-Star Mystic Practitioner in a month or two is a sure thing. Pills would make it even quicker… As for Xiao Mie, wait till you’re Eight-Star, maybe Nine-Star, before challenging him. You’re already Third on the Nine Stars Ranking, with ten straight victories in ten arena bouts. You’ve got nothing left to prove.”
Yan Zhen seized her free hand and explained patiently.
“It’s not about proving anything right away, Mentor. It’s about clashing with Xiao Mie to sharpen each other—like whetstones honing blades. This much effort is nothing. It’s just a painful process. Grit through it, and we’re good.”
“You’re so stubborn! You never listen!”
“I know you’ll help me, right, Mentor Yu Xuan?”
Yan Zhen twisted to gaze at her again, batting his big, bright eyes in full puppy-dog mode.
Mentor Yu Xuan averted her face, refusing to meet his eyes.
“No helping.”
“Mentor~ Pretty please~”
Yan Zhen wheedled in a syrupy whine, nuzzling his cheek against her soft, pale hand. He cringed inwardly at his own cheesiness, toes curling in secondhand embarrassment—but it shattered her resistance in an instant.
A faint, teasing tingle spread up her arm. Her lovely features bloomed with a rosy blush, a honey-sweet warmth swelling in her chest.
This was the first time he’d taken the initiative with her—and straight into such shameless flattery. Mentor Yu Xuan simply couldn’t say no.
—Cheeky brat, always putting her in tough spots.
“Mentor~”
“Fine, I’ll help. But no toughing it out silently. Speak up if it hurts anywhere. And if you can’t take it anymore, we rest.”
“Got it. Thanks, Mentor!”
“Sigh.”
Mentor Yu Xuan let out a helpless breath, her heartache deepening at the sight of his skin—swollen welts turning an angry purple-red.
The problem was, these wounds came from her Water Mystic Force. She couldn’t soothe them with more of the same.
All she could do was keep ladling the broth and gently work the pooled blood away.
Yan Zhen shut his eyes against the exhaustion, gathering his focus to circulate the Emperor Flame Technique. He slowly drew in the medicinal essence wafting through the hot water.
Time wore on, and the brew in the tub faded to a pale tint as Yan Zhen absorbed most of its power. His injuries mended to some seventy or eighty percent. Finally, he surrendered to drowsiness, his head lolling against the tub’s rim as he drifted into deep sleep.
Mentor Yu Xuan let him be, sitting quietly at the bedside to watch his peaceful sleeping face.
It was past midnight when the water ran fully clear. Only then did she lift him from the tub, towel him dry, and carry him to the bed.
Her gaze fell on the insistent erection jutting skyward. Blushing furiously, she tsked.
“All banged up and still raring to go…”
Yan Zhen was in the midst of forging his physique—he couldn’t afford to lose vital essence midway. So unlike her usual habit, Mentor Yu Xuan didn’t help him relieve it. She tucked him under the covers and slipped away.
