“The stance for Tai Chi Shock is also called the ‘pile stance.’ The pile skill is the foundation—indeed, the most crucial part. You must never neglect it.”
And so, Yan Zhen began practicing his horse stance.
It took a full five days, but he finally mastered the stance for Tai Chi Shock. Only then did he move on to the second stage of sparring with his beautiful master.
The first stage of sparring had been all about taking hits, training his muscle memory so he could quickly grasp the meaning of deft force and shock vigor.
The second stage was pushing hands, where he learned to receive, deflect, and issue force.
Once again atop the altar in the Crystal Stone Space, Yan Zhen and his beautiful master assumed identical Tai Chi Shock stances. Their hands intertwined, pushing and pulling at each other. Their feet advanced or retreated in rhythm with their hands, though one foot always remained rooted to the spot.
“Doesn’t seem that hard,” Yan Zhen remarked.
“Is that so?”
Chen Xi smiled mysteriously. The force from her hands shifted and swirled like a vortex, sucking at Yan Zhen’s hands and dragging him into her rhythm. He staggered forward and back, his stance crumbling.
Yan Zhen felt like a tiny boat tossed on stormy waves, lurching this way and that, on the verge of capsizing at any moment.
Sure enough, as soon as Chen Xi released her hands, Yan Zhen toppled over like a toddler just learning to walk.
In his panic, he wrapped his arms around his beautiful master’s slender waist.
But her silken dress was too slippery. Yan Zhen couldn’t hold the position, and his hands slid down to the full curves of her backside. They sank into an indescribable softness, while his face buried itself in her soft abdomen. Waves of fragrance filled his nostrils.
—Oh no!
Yan Zhen’s heart skipped a beat. A chill raced down his spine, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
—He knew full well that his beautiful master was a traditional, reserved woman of icy demeanor. Crashing into her arms could pass as a junior playfully seeking affection from his elder—barely excusable. But now his grubby paws were groping her perfect rear. This was outright disrespect, an unforgivable offense. No explanation could save him!
In the script, there had been a scene where he accidentally brushed his beautiful master’s backside, and she’d promptly dislocated his wrist, elbow, and shoulder joints on the spot. He’d spent the whole night in agony before they were reset.
“M-Master…”
Yan Zhen looked up at her with trembling fear, mustering his most pitiful expression in a desperate bid for mercy. But she simply placed a gentle hand on the crown of his head.
“!!!”
—Immortal bestowing blessings upon my crown, issuing an inch-force strike to shatter my skull?
Yan Zhen’s face turned pale. However, Chen Xi did not deliver the violent beating he had anticipated. Instead, she spoke with a trace of helplessness.
“Are you going to let go of your master?”
“Ah? Oh, right—sorry.”
Still dazed, Yan Zhen released her and scrambled to his feet. He stood there with his head bowed, like a schoolboy caught red-handed.
“…Master, I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Let’s continue sparring.”
“Huh? Master, you’re not mad at me?”
“Some physical contact is normal during sparring. Don’t overthink it—focus.”
“Oh.”
—She’s not angry? Didn’t even hit me? Is this still the same beautiful master who’d dislocate her own disciple’s joints for a mere brush?
Gazing at her serene, otherworldly face, Yan Zhen suddenly understood why she wasn’t upset.
She probably didn’t see him as a member of the opposite sex at all—just as her disciple.
He was the opposite. He called her “Master,” but his thoughts kept drifting to her silvery hair and ample bosom. He hadn’t shown her the proper respect a true disciple should.
—I’m the worst. She’s teaching me with such dedication, and here I am, distracted by filthy thoughts. I don’t deserve it.
Besides, this flew in the face of his “upgrade machine” persona.
Even though cultivating Tai Chi Shock deviated from the script, a proper actor had to maintain character until the final curtain fell.
In that moment, enlightenment dawned on Yan Zhen. He steadied his breathing, calming his restless mind. His expression grew solemn and composed.
He resumed the Tai Chi Shock stance, placing his hands atop those of his beautiful master. In a deep, mature voice, he said, “Come on, Master. I’ll focus properly this time.”
Yet less than a quarter-hour later, Yan Zhen fell again.
This time, his flailing hands grabbed her waist sash—and yanked. The sash came loose in an instant.
Without it to cinch her dark training garb, the fabric burst open under the pressure of her generous chest, revealing a dazzling glimpse of springtime allure right before Yan Zhen’s eyes.
“!!!”
Any composure Yan Zhen had evaporated. Blood rushed to his head, a hot trickle seeping from his nose. His mind blanked out, filled only with “huge huge HUGE” and “snowy snowy SNOWY.”
Chen Xi clamped one arm over her chest and pressed her thighs together.
“Zhen’er, give your master back her sash.”
Her tone remained light as a breeze, without a trace of anger.
“S-Sorry, Master! It was an accident—I swear!”
Yan Zhen scrambled up and hurriedly handed the sash back.
“No harm done.”
Chen Xi took it and retied it, once more encasing her enchanting figure.
“Alright, continue.”
Yan Zhen nodded, vowing to himself that he absolutely wouldn’t repeat such a blunder. Otherwise, even if his beautiful master saw him as sexless, she’d have to get mad.
Another round of pushing hands followed. Yan Zhen stayed on high alert and avoided disaster, allowing him a moment of relief.
But in that brief lapse of focus, he fell into passivity once more—and tumbled yet again.
His arms wrapped around her long, jade-like legs, his head pressed tight against them like some perverse ornament.
Yan Zhen froze.
How did this keep happening? He hadn’t learned Pear God Throw! Why did he always end up crashing into his beautiful master!?
“Zhen’er…”
Her voice now carried a hint of reproach. Still half-kneeling, Yan Zhen looked up—and met her gaze.
Her fine brows furrowed slightly, suspicion flickering in her eyes. She clearly doubted whether this was intentional!
“Master, I swear I didn’t mean to! You have to believe me!”
“Of course your master believes you.”
Chen Xi’s brows relaxed, the doubt fading from her eyes. She reached out and stroked his head, signaling him to relax.
“Master…”
Yan Zhen was deeply moved. He’d never imagined the script’s frosty master could be so gentle with him in reality—like a loving mother.
—Damn it, why do I keep taking advantage of my beautiful master? Is my subconscious just a pervert, acting on lewd impulses without my say-so?!
—No! I’m a principled lecher! Not some stallion who’d prey on his own master!
The gentler she was, the guiltier Yan Zhen felt—until he began doubting himself.
Then she spoke again.
“Zhen’er, your master understands that boys your age often have thoughts about the opposite sex. But right now, we’re cultivating. You need to focus.”
Yan Zhen looked up at her with watery eyes.
“I’m sorry, Master. I was wrong.”
Chen Xi patted his head gently.
“If you’re truly curious about a woman’s body, we can explore that after cultivation is done. Your master will teach you then.”
Yan Zhen nodded on instinct. It took him a long moment to process her words, and then he froze.
What???
Oohhh