Ron Lee, Inner court disciple of the Burning Sun Pavilion, thought of himself as a man of charm, class, and untouched yang essence.
But tonight... the Heavens had abandoned him.
He had taken the wrong path—literally—while following Mo Han. And that wrong path led him to a place no innocent disciple should ever go: The Pink Blossom Tree Sect.
With walls of blooming cherry trees, seductive fragrance in the air, and butterflies shaped like heart-petals, the sect was a haven for Dual Cultivation. A forbidden paradise. A trap.
"Wait, I'm not supposed to be here!" Ron had yelped as soon as the mist cleared, revealing dozens of curvy silhouettes in translucent robes.
"Oh? But you already are here," replied Senior Disciple Mei Rou, her voice smoother than spiritual honey.
Ron turned to run, but three pink ropes snaked out of nowhere and tied his arms like a pig ready for festival.
"I'm just a delivery boy!" he shouted as the formation circle lit up below him.
"And now, a lucky boy," said Senior Disciple Lin Yue, licking her lips like she was about to devour a spicy dumpling.
Ron was upside down. Again. Dangling by his ankle from a pink-blossom chandelier. His clothes were in pieces. His pride—nonexistent.
"I am a follower of Celestial Yang Preservation! Let me go!" he cried.
Senior Disciple Mei Rou twirled a flute in her hand and winked. "Preserve it? Oh no, sweetie. We're here to help you distribute it—ethically and passionately."
"May the heavens smite you all!"
Suddenly, soft flute music played. The Seduction spell: 'Spring Nights Forever' activated.
Butterflies swarmed. Pink mist danced.
A wave of warmth hit Ron's soul core like molten fire. His body trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer overwhelming… pleasure. And terror.
"No… not the Peach Wine again…" he whimpered.
Ron lay flat on a jade bed. His eyes blank. His mouth slightly open. His fingers twitching. A spirit beast sat on his belly—judging him silently. [Halusination.]
"Subject lasted longer than expected," noted Senior Disciple Lin Yue, writing in her scrollbook. "Stamina: above average. Complained too much. Cried during third round. Lost consciousness during fourth."
"Potential?" asked Mei Rou.
"Hmm. Poor fellow. But his meridians adjusted during the third merge. He'll return."
"Oh yes," Mei Rou said with a sly grin, "They always do."
Ron twitched. "I heard that…"
Late Morning – Back at the Gates
Ron landed face-first outside the Pink Blossom Tree Sect's gate, wrapped tightly in a pink robe with gold embroidery that read:
He groaned. "I can't feel my legs… I can't feel my fate…"
A nearby squirrel approached with a nut and then backed away in pity.
Ron muttered, "I swear on my Yang… I'll never enter a pink sect again…"
Burning Sun Pavilion…
The clouds parted above the main peak, revealing a crimson light. In the middle of the training ground, a young man stood still, sword extended, face calm as the wind whistled past his robes.
The surroundings were scorched and cracked, remnants of his opponent's fire sword technique still glowing in the dirt.
A final sword strike echoed like thunder as Jong, a senior disciple of the Burning Sun Peak, stood over his sparring partner, whose robes were tattered and body twitching on the ground.
"Raining Sword: Final Droplet," Jong whispered, sheathing his thin, silver-blue blade that shimmered faintly with water vapor.
Steam rose where water met sun-scorched earth.
"Your flames lack rhythm," he said flatly to the defeated disciple. "The sword does not fear heat when its heart is calm."
As several servants watched from afar, awe blooming in their eyes, whispers passed through the field.
"That's Jong, the one with the Water Sun Meridians… I heard his sword can cut through flame and steel alike."
"He trains every morning at sunrise. No wonder even inner court disciples hesitate to provoke him…"
Before any more chatter could blossom, two anxious figures rushed into the arena, panting and drenched in sweat. They wore gray servant robes with the Lee family insignia stitched near their shoulders.
Jong turned slightly, brow furrowing.
The shorter servant, Chan, immediately knelt with a thump that sent dust into the air. "Senior Jong! We… we come bearing grave news!"
"Speak." Jong's voice was sharp, direct, like his sword.
The taller servant, Lin, swallowed nervously before stepping forward. "Young Master Ron Lee has gone missing… Since two days."
Jong's eyes narrowed. "Missing?"
Chan nodded, tears almost forming. "Yes! He followed a strange servant from the inner court. One… called Mo Han. That man returned in the dead of night—but Young Master Ron is still nowhere to be found."
Jong's fingers twitched slightly, gripping his sword hilt. "Mo Han… I've heard that name. The servant of that inner court girl—Jia kai, right?"
"Yes, Senior," Lin added. "He is a poor servant… yet somehow bought a Mountain Eagle recently. There's something strange about him."
A few disciples around them overheard and gasped.
"Summoned a Mountain Eagle? A servant?"
"Only core disciples or nobles can rent those!"
Jong looked away, his eyes scanning the burning horizon, thoughts churning like storm clouds behind a calm sea. "That fool Ron… chasing after people with lowly backgrounds again…"
He suddenly turned and began walking down from the training ground, his robe fluttering in the hot breeze.
"Lead me to the inner court," he commanded. "If Mo Han knows something, I'll pull it out of him myself."
The two servants immediately led the way.
The walk through the winding paths of Burning Sun Peak was silent, tense. Jong didn't speak a word, though his spiritual energy subtly grew denser, readying for any confrontation.
As they reached the inner court gates, several disciples moved aside upon seeing Jong's badge—marked with the Burning Sun crest and three silver stars, denoting his elite status.
A few whispered as he passed.
"Senior Jong is here personally? Did something serious happen?"
"It must be related to Mountain eagle…"
With a graceful flick, Jong stepped through the open gate, his aura already making the guards fidget.