I am Yan Zhen, the Quasi-Saint Son of the Jialan Holy Land. On the second day of the Seven Peaks Consecutive Battle, after securing another double victory, I prepared to slip into the Fire Refining Starry Sky to whine in the arms of my beautiful female master. But halfway there, the Saint Lord master intercepted me. At the time, I thought she just wanted to chat or have a heart-to-heart. Little did I know her maternal instincts had evolved into full-blown shotacon tendencies. She turned me back into a seven- or eight-year-old boy and petted me like a kitten for an entire night. When I woke up…
“I’m still not back to normal!”
Yan Zhen (Eight Years Old)—his limited-time skin still active—lay on his back in bed, staring at his tiny hands in utter speechlessness. It was even more exasperating to see the pure white beauty lying beside him, clutching him like a body pillow.
After being shrunk last night, he had endured a solid hour of her petting, which nearly rubbed him bald. Then she had carried him to bed and forcibly lulled him to sleep.
He had assumed he’d wake up restored to his original form, but not only had the Saint Lord master slept alongside him—she was using him as a pillow, too.
Yan Zhen’s entire body was enveloped in softness and fragrance, as if he were immersed in a sea of spring flowers. It was utterly intoxicating.
He was used to being held like this by his beautiful female master when falling asleep, so it wasn’t unfamiliar. But now he was in a child’s body, and the one embracing him was the Saint Lord master. It felt downright weird.
His beautiful female master loved him, and while the Saint Lord master surely loved him too, the natures of their affections were clearly different. Yan Zhen could wholeheartedly enjoy the tender embrace of his beautiful female master, but he wasn’t yet accustomed to the Saint Lord master’s maternal hug.
A light sheen of sweat broke out on Yan Zhen’s brow as he tried to wriggle free. He twisted for ages, but it was all in vain. She wasn’t even holding him that tightly, yet his movements roused the Saint Lord master, who had been sleeping lightly.
Her pure white lashes fluttered, her eyelids parted, and her golden pupils reflected Yan Zhen’s little face.
Their eyes met. Jialan Fairy blinked and said warmly,
“Good morning, Yan’er. Did you sleep well last night?”
Her holy and beautiful visage was right there before him. Yan Zhen felt a bit shy.
“Thanks to you, Saint Lord master, I slept fine.”
Though Jialan Fairy’s expression remained impassive, her gaze softened even more, brimming with indulgence.
“Then I’ll come keep you company tomorrow night, too.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t you want to sleep with me, Yan’er?”
“Uh, well, it’s not that…”
Faced with such gentleness from the Saint Lord master, Yan Zhen couldn’t bring himself to refuse.
“It’s a promise.” Jialan Fairy patted his little head. “Time to get up.”
She rose, her flowing locks of snow-white hair—spread out behind her like a blanket—gathering slowly and cascading straight down like a waterfall. From her open collar, her proud, snowy peaks stood erect, exuding a heavy, weighty allure.
Seeing Yan Zhen sit up but avert his eyes, Jialan Fairy curved her lips in a faint arc. Unhurried, she adjusted her collar, concealing the sacred spring vista.
“Arms up, Yan’er.”
“What for?”
Though puzzled, Yan Zhen obediently raised his hands. To his surprise, the Saint Lord master grasped the hem of his clothes and lifted, clearly intending to undress him.
Yan Zhen hurriedly lowered his arms and stopped her.
“I can change myself—no need to trouble you, Saint Lord master!”
With his body reverted to eight years old, even his silken pajamas had shrunk to fit perfectly. Without his cooperation, they wouldn’t come off easily.
Jialan Fairy spoke softly.
“You’re still a child right now, Yan’er. You can accept an elder’s care with peace of mind. Be good and raise your arms.”
Under the gaze of those platinum eyes, Yan Zhen truly felt like an obedient child, unable to defy an elder’s wish. He lifted his arms high again.
Jialan Fairy nodded in satisfaction. She removed his short-sleeved pajama top, then had him lift his hips to slip off his flared shorts, leaving only his cute Long-Trunked Little Elephant Boxer Shorts.
With a beckoning hand, she summoned his disciple robes from the rack. Comparing them, she found they were too large and frowned slightly, tilting her head as if pondering.
Why are they so big?
Yan Zhen’s face darkened as he reminded her.
“Saint Lord master, you should change me back now.”
Jialan Fairy came to a sudden realization, as if only just remembering. She extended a slender jade finger and tapped his forehead.
The eight-year-old experience card expired. Yan Zhen reverted to his eighteen-year-old, super-vigorous teenage self. He snatched the clothes from her hands, leaped off the bed, and dressed in a few swift motions—finally cinching his belt and standing at attention.
“I’m off to wash up!”
With that, he bolted toward the bathroom.
Gazing at Yan Zhen’s flustered retreating back, Jialan Fairy rose unhurriedly and followed.
“Yan’er, I’ll help you wash.”
“?!’
An incense stick’s time later, Yan Zhen slipped away alone without even calling for Long Ying, arriving at Qingren Peak without landing.
Battles between Mystic Ancestors could no longer take place on arena platforms—too much destruction, too troublesome to repair. They were conducted in the air instead.
He slapped his cheeks to rally his spirits, his eyes sharpening like blades. Cupping his hands, he called out,
“Quasi-Saint Son of Jialan Peak, Yan Zhen, here to challenge the chief disciple of Qingren Peak! Qingkong Hai, senior brother, please come forth for a bout!”
Empowered by mystic power, his voice boomed across the heavens.
Golden Sun Peak (disciples) and Blazing Sun Peak (elders) on either side of Qingren Peak stirred at once. Numerous disciples and attendants poked their heads out, and even several elders appeared.
After a long moment, a white sun rose slowly from the summit of Golden Sun Peak, halting before Yan Zhen.
The glow faded, revealing a fair and handsome youth with a bright, sunny smile.
Yan Zhen eyed him oddly, thinking, So this is Da Bao without the beard? The script described him to a T.
Qingkong Hai smiled radiantly.
“No need for words, Junior Brother Yan Zhen. Please, instruct me.”
Yan Zhen responded politely.
“Senior Brother Qingkong Hai, please instruct me as well.”
The two drew their weapons in turn, unleashed their mystic power, and clashed.
After over a hundred exchanges, Yan Zhen seized an opening. With the fist force of the Eight Extremes Explosion, he drove Wind-Thunder Crystal Fire into Qingkong Hai’s body, disrupting his super-speed recovery, and claimed victory in one final stroke!
Qingren Peak’s Dawn Vitality Art was ridiculously unfair. Yan Zhen fractured Qingkong Hai’s fist with one punch, only for a flash of light to heal it instantly, as if no injury had occurred.
Fortunately, Yan Zhen had prepared mentally. If he’d encountered such an opponent unprepared in the wild, without knowing their tricks, he might grow increasingly uneasy, deluding himself that they were unkillable and losing as a result.
In truth, Qingkong Hai found Yan Zhen even more “disgusting.” A Stone Shield generated automatically around him, dissipating at least thirty percent of any full-force strike. Now he understood Bing Tang of Snow Spirit Peak’s frustration—it was maddening to fight.
Worse, there was not just the auto-generated Stone Shield but also the Wind-Thunder Crystal Fire that countered him perfectly.
Numbed by it, he couldn’t even circulate his mystic power to recover.
That was the true reason for his defeat.
Qingkong Hai couldn’t fathom how Yan Zhen had refined more than one kind of Extreme Flame!
