He held on desperately, only to have the Sword Cultivator Skeleton’s blade slam into the Extreme Tyrant Sword’s body. Yan Zhen went flying, sword and all, crashing hard into a massive Beast Head Skeleton the size of a small mountain.
It took him a good while to crawl out of the bone pile, his body automatically cloaked in a protective stone shield of Rootless Earth Spirit Fire.
He wasn’t seriously hurt, but he looked disheveled and filthy, his face full of frustration. He’d clearly realized his swordsmanship was lacking.
Against peers, he could still put on a show. But in cross-realm fights, he was obviously outmatched.
Yan Zhen scratched his head and walked back to the Evil Consort, cutting straight to the chase.
“Evil Consort Master, got any greatsword Mystic Techniques suitable for me? My sword skills can’t keep up with my cultivation anymore.”
The Evil Consort replied calmly, “Greatsword Mystic Techniques are exceedingly rare. Even the Evil God Clan doesn’t have many in its collection, and most are low-level trash.”
“Evil Consort Master, there must be a way,” Yan Zhen wheedled. He squeezed onto the Skeleton Throne beside her, snuggling close. “That skeleton’s infuriating! It keeps predicting my moves just because it’s a sword specialist. I can’t land a single hit!”
—Damn it!
The Evil Consort felt no impropriety sitting side-by-side with the Flame Emperor on the throne. Instead, she inwardly chuckled at his pouty, aggrieved expression. Putting on airs, she said, “Very well, This Palace will think of something…”
Yan Zhen, seeing his opening, eagerly massaged her shoulders. “Take your time thinking, Evil Consort Master. No rush.”
After a good rub, she “winced” and touched the other shoulder. He dutifully switched sides and kept at it.
—In the future, even the Flame Emperor will be This Palace’s loyal lackey~
The Evil Consort basked inwardly, pondering a while longer before exclaiming with “inspiration,” “I have it! This Palace collected a fairly high-grade greatsword Mystic Technique long ago but never cultivated it since it didn’t suit me. Now it can benefit you, Yan’er.”
Yan Zhen could hardly contain himself. “Evil Consort Master, quick—show it to me!”
“No rush; it’s yours.” With a flick of her jade hand, a jade slip shaped like a greatsword appeared in her palm. “Here, Yan’er.”
Yan Zhen snatched it eagerly and poured in his mystic power. Countless words and diagrams burst forth, forming a blazing light screen.
A greatsword rocketed skyward, wreathed in flames, its sword cry like thunder, speed blinding. At its peak, it halted abruptly, then plummeted even faster, trailing fire like a shooting star.
This was a fire-control sword technique.
Flying Fire Meteor Sword: Sword rises like flying fire, falls like a meteor. One strike pierces mountains; another subdues seas. A Supreme Mystic Technique!
“Whoa, so cool!” Yan Zhen’s eyes sparkled. “Flying Fire Sword for agility, Meteor Sword for overwhelming force—together, it’s fast and brutal!”
Seeing his unbridled joy, the Evil Consort’s mood soared as well.
“This sword control technique perfectly patches your swordsmanship gaps. Master it fully, and you can wield it while fighting hand-to-hand, boosting your combat power immensely.”
“Mm-hmm! I’ll master it ASAP. Thanks, Evil Consort Master—I love you~”
Smooch. Yan Zhen planted another one on her cheek, perfectly mirroring the first spot.
How could the Evil Consort have anticipated that the Flame Emperor would kiss her again? Her entire body went rigid once more, the faint smile at the corner of her mouth freezing solid.
—Kissed a second time! Could he… could he be doing this on purpose?
The overly excited Yan Zhen failed to notice the Evil Consort’s unusual reaction. He dove headfirst into the intent within the jade slip and began studying and comprehending it.
Seeing that he clearly didn’t take the two kisses to heart at all, the Evil Consort felt both embarrassed and furious. Beneath her wide black sleeves edged in silver, a pair of dainty fists clenched tightly, the urge to give him a good thrashing surging within her.
Yet after pondering for a long while, the Evil Consort slowly relaxed her fists and chose to admit defeat.
—You had better not let This Palace catch any dirt on you, or else you’ll regret it, you infuriating Flame Emperor!
While he wasn’t paying attention, the Evil Consort quietly wiped the lingering saliva from her cheek with a silk handkerchief. Then she reclined lazily atop the Skeleton Throne, vigilantly watching over her diligently cultivating disciple.
Two days later, Yan Zhen had successfully grasped the basics. He piloted his Extreme Tyrant Sword through the air, darting back and forth as he traded blows evenly with the Sword Dao Skeleton.
Three days after that, Yan Zhen comprehended the essence of the Flying Fire Sword. He turned the tables on the Sword Dao Skeleton, toying with it using his flying sword until he pierced straight through its skull, shattering its core and bringing it to a halt.
“Whew~ Finally won!”
Yan Zhen was absolutely thrilled. After enduring for so many days, he had finally avenged his prior defeat—and he was reaching his absolute limit.
“Yan’er, that’s enough for now,” the Evil Consort said, switching from strict mentor mode to doting mother mode as she approached Yan Zhen’s side. “This Palace will send you back to rest.”
Yan Zhen let out a soft hum of agreement before leaning sideways into the Evil Consort’s embrace. Half his face sank into her plump bosom, his sweat soaking the front of her robes.
The Evil Consort stared in stunned silence, on the verge of erupting in anger. But when she looked down, she saw that Yan Zhen had already fallen soundly asleep, his face the picture of sweet repose.
Even as a Mystic Lord powerhouse who cultivated Divine Soul, Body Realm, and Mystic Power in tandem, two straight days of sword art comprehension followed by three days of intense combat had left him utterly exhausted.
The Evil Consort quelled her anger with a cold harrumph. She scooped Yan Zhen into her arms, opened a Space Portal, and arrived in the Evil Flame Palace Bedroom. There, she placed him on the bed, removed his shoes and socks for him, and tucked him under the covers.
Glancing down at the sweat stains on her own chest, a look of disgust crossed the Evil Consort’s face. She dissolved into a wisp of dark shadow and departed the bedroom, heading to the Side Hall Bathhouse.
The beautiful woman in black shed her solemn robes, revealing a voluptuous, exquisitely alluring mature body. She then stepped into the scalding bath pool.
Half an hour later, this noblest of women from the Evil God Clan donned a black silk sheer nightgown and returned to the bedroom. She climbed into bed beside the infuriating Flame Emperor, closed her eyes, and feigned sleep.
…
She didn’t know how much time had passed—right as the Evil Consort was on the verge of drifting off into deep slumber—when she suddenly heard a familiar yet loathsome call that made her snap her eyes open.
The room was utterly silent. Aside from herself and Yan Zhen beside her, no one else was present. The voice had transmitted directly into her ears.
Only the two Half-Saint priests of the Guardian Divine Temple—or that one other person—possessed the ability to do this.
The Evil Consort sat up, clutching the covers with one hand while flicking a beam of black light toward the pink gauze canopy with the other. It transformed into a half-body light mirror hovering in the air.
The mirror revealed a thick mass of black mist, within which floated a bronze mask. Crimson light gleamed from its eye sockets, and a heavy, chilling pressure began to suffuse the room.
Yan Zhen stirred uncomfortably in his sleep, his brows furrowing slightly.
The Evil Consort quickly erected a shielding barrier around the bed to nullify the pressure.
Only once Yan Zhen had settled back into peaceful slumber did she relax.
Through the hazy gauze canopy, the Evil Consort said coldly to that person, “Mo Tianjue, what business do you have with This Palace?”
