Yan Zhen perked up at her words, immediately striking an exaggerated pose of admiration. His eyes sparkled with feigned awe, as if he’d just bitten into the sourest lemon.
“Whoa! You’ve actually broken through to Five-Star Mystic Practitioner? Cousin Ruyu, you’re just too amazing~”
Yan Ruyu hated that sarcastic tone of his more than anything. Blushing with fury, she thrust her sword out once more. Empowered by her Five-Star Mystic Practitioner cultivation, the strike carried astonishing speed and power.
Spotting the attack, Yan Zhen rolled aside twice in quick succession. He snatched up a thick, hefty, pitch-black fire poker stick from a nearby pile of clutter and charged forward to meet her.
Though Yan Ruyu’s sword was a First-Tier Mystic Artifact, she hadn’t activated the runes inscribed on its blade, leaving it merely sharper than ordinary steel. Yan Zhen wielded his solid wooden fire poker stick with confidence, clashing blow for blow without giving ground. In the process, his own aura flared fully into the open.
Clang!
Their weapons crossed with a sharp ring, forcing the pair apart.
Even in those few brief exchanges, Yan Zhen’s fire poker stick had several nasty notches hacked into it by the sword’s edge. It was already pockmarked and battered—if they kept going much longer, it would snap clean in two.
Yet Yan Ruyu held back from pressing her advantage. Instead, she stared at Yan Zhen in utter shock, her voice laced with disbelief.
“That aura… it doesn’t feel like a One-Star Mystic Practitioner at all. How did you suddenly get this strong?”
Those at the Mystic Disciple Realm had such feeble cultivation that sensing their exact level was nearly impossible.
But once one advanced to Mystic Practitioner, things changed. Unless deliberately concealed, the moment Mystic Power clashed, both sides could roughly gauge their opponent’s strength from the intensity of their auras.
Pinpointing the exact star-rating took real experience, though.
Evidently, Yan Ruyu was still too green.
Yan Zhen twirled his fire poker stick with casual ease.
“Because I’m super badass, that’s why.”
With that, he took the offensive. He lunged forward and thrust the stick toward Yan Ruyu like a short spear, putting his full strength behind it.
Her reaction came a split-second too late. She barely managed to swing her sword up in a horizontal block, absorbing the blow before riposting.
“Three-Star? Big deal—I’m Five-Star!”
Clang!
As her sword came stabbing in, Yan Zhen timed his counter perfectly, smacking her blade off course with his stick. He snorted derisively.
“Five-Star, huh? Taste my stick-style Tai Chi Shock!”
He channeled his Shock Vigor into the fire poker stick. The thick rod hummed with vibration, blurring into afterimages that made it look even bulkier and more menacing.
He smashed it down onto her sword. The ferocious impact, amplified by the relentless quaking, nearly wrenched the weapon from her grip.
“What?!”
Yan Ruyu staggered back, desperately shedding the force of the blow as she tried to regroup. But Yan Zhen gave her no such chance. He surged forward in a single explosive step, jabbing the still-thrumming stick straight at her body.
“What kind of weird technique is that?!”
“The kind that beats you silly.”
“You little—!”
The bizarre vibrations transmitted through her sword left her hands numb and tingling. Parrying grew impossible; she could only dodge and retreat, gradually falling behind.
It wasn’t until her backside bumped against the stone table in the courtyard—with nowhere left to go—that she finally unleashed her full power.
Mystic Power surged along her blade, igniting the runes inscribed upon it. At the same time, she unleashed a Sword Dao Mystic Technique.
“Scattering Flowers Sword!”
Her thrust unleashed a bloom of Mystic Power at the sword tip, like petals unfurling. Crisp cracking sounds rang out in rapid succession.
The combined might of a Mystic Technique and Mystic Artifact could humble even another Five-Star Mystic Practitioner—let alone Yan Zhen.
But he’d seen this coming. Just as the script dictated, he hurled his fire poker stick like a javelin, straight at Yan Ruyu’s eyes.
Her sword pierced it dead center with pinpoint accuracy.
Boom!
The wooden stick shattered into a cloud of flying splinters. Yan Ruyu’s attention shattered with it. The instant she realized her mistake—
—It was a feint!
Yan Zhen’s figure vanished from her sight. By the time she sensed his aura, he was already beside her. A sly grin tugged at his lips as he lunged, tackling her straight to the ground.
“Ah!”
Yan Ruyu hit the dirt face-first, her sword flying from her grasp. Before she could recover, Yan Zhen planted his butt squarely on her back and wrenched her arms behind her, pinning them in place.
Yan Zhen let out a long breath of relief. Man, these combat quests were exhausting—but at least his skills had carried the day.
“Gotcha!”
“You—you let me go!”
Yan Ruyu’s pretty face burned scarlet as she thrashed beneath him. But in that position, she couldn’t muster any leverage. Yan Zhen didn’t budge an inch.
“Let you go so you can stab me? In your dreams, Yan Ruyu!” Yan Zhen huffed. “You couldn’t beat me back when you were ten, and now you dare draw steel on me? Where’d you get the guts?”
“You… you’re cheating!”
“It’s called ‘all’s fair in war.'”
“You’re shameless!”
“Damn right I am. Both rows are perfectly healthy—want me to flash ’em at you?”
“Little scoundrel! If you’ve got the guts, let me up. We’ll fight again, and this time I’ll make you howl for mercy.”
“Still talking big? You believe I can’t make you howl right now?”
Yan Ruyu caught the eager edge in his voice and flashed back to that incident from five years ago. Her heart skipped a beat.
“W-what are you planning? D-don’t touch me! Don’t you dare touch me there, or I swear I won’t let you off!”
Truth be told, Yan Zhen had no desire to bully a girl. But the plot demanded it, didn’t it? Besides, this cousin of his had always rubbed him the wrong way. Giving her a little lesson felt downright therapeutic.
Once it was over, Yan Ruyu would finally simmer down. At least she wouldn’t glare daggers at him every time they crossed paths, like she’d swallowed a bullet.
He paused for dramatic effect, then let out a villainous cackle.
“The more you say stuff like that, the more I wanna do it.”
“You wouldn’t dare—”
Smack!
“Eeeya~!”
The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the empty courtyard, accompanied by a trembling, sultry moan.
Yan Ruyu snapped back to her senses, her entire face aflame. A fiery sting bloomed across her backside—not just pain, but a strange, electric thrill coursing through her. It was a sensation she hadn’t felt in five long years.
She should have hated it. Yet her body betrayed her with an urge to beg for more.
Unbidden, Yan Meng’er’s earlier words echoed in her mind: “Cousin Ruyu’s always picking on Cousin Yan Zhen… because deep down, she wants him to catch her and spank her again, right?”
No! Impossible! How could she even think like that?!
Yan Zhen blinked in surprise. That cry… it sounded kinda naughty? The script had called for a “pig-slaughtering shriek,” complete with a torrent of girlish curses. Must be his imagination.
Shaking it off, he said coolly, “Know who’s the boss now?”
“You bastard!”
Nice delivery—pure, heartfelt venom. Perfect. Time for another one. The feel was great, too; no wonder they called it a birthing-figure backside.
He swung his palm down again.
Smack!
“Eeeya~!”
Yan Ruyu let out another involuntary cry, even sultrier than the last. It stirred something in Yan Zhen.
Was this what a “pig-slaughtering shriek” sounded like?
Whatever. He just needed to stick to the script.
A couple more spanks, and she’d pretend to yield. Once he let her up, she’d grab her sword and chase him down.
Of course, she wouldn’t catch him—just like five years ago. The whole thing would fizzle out inconclusively. After eating this lesson, Yan Ruyu would finally tone it down.
In time, they’d be on good terms again, thick as thieves like he was with Yan Meng’er. And this little episode? Just a spot of black history between cousins.
