Chapter 35
Translator: penny
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Little Fox (4)
After fleeing from a tiresome grudge between other cultivators that had nothing to do with me...
I shook off the heart demon and stopped by a small market town far from the site of the commotion to check the spirituality of the little fox I'd acquired.
True to its name, the market town was divided into residential and commercial districts—the residences for living quarters and the markets for trade.
Originally, market towns had been strictly separated into these zones, opening only at set times to tightly control the common folk's economic activity. This kept them in check, suppressed crime, made merchants' profits easy to track, and allowed for efficient tax collection.
Of course, cultivators had no such "emperor" lording over them, so their market towns differed a bit from the mortals'.
The outskirts were ringed by inns and homes forming a wall that blocked off the outside world. Inside, cultivators gathered to trade. There were no walls dividing the two areas, the markets ran twenty-four hours, and outsiders weren't restricted.
The one thing they controlled?
Entry by non-cultivators.
According to Wi Ahan, certain building layouts followed array principles, rendering the market town invisible to those without spiritual roots—they unconsciously avoided it.
On the other hand, folks with spiritual roots but not yet cultivators sometimes wandered in, drawn unwittingly. Cultivators in need of disciples waited at the entrances to snatch up such children.
I stored the little fox in my spiritual roots and entered the market town with Wi Ahan. First, we secured lodging to relax long enough to fully assess its spirituality.
The quiet inn, which also catered to cultivation, was pricey, but my stipend matched that of a core direct disciple—no burden at all.
If I wanted, I could've rented it for a hundred years.
Once settled in the comfortable room, I let the tension drain from my body with a deep sigh.
"Hoo..."
This outing had shaken my Dao heart more than once.
Facing the fox despite Elder Geum's expectations, staring death in the face.
Clashing with two Core Formation experts at the Completion stage, earning enmity from one.
And wasting time on trivial fools picking fights, just to annoy me.
None of that happened back at High Heaven Sect.
I could've cultivated in peace—no one bothered me. Sea Severing Peak's disciples all focused solely on training to catch Elder Geum's eye.
"Ah... not quite."
I muttered unconsciously, and Wi Ahan glanced my way.
I ignored her puzzled look and recalled the Thunder Spiritual Root punk who'd tried intimidating me before.
I didn't even know his name... but honestly, I'd started it, so calling that picking a fight would've been shameless.
If someone blasted me mid-river cultivation, sweeping me away with the current, even I'd lose it.
They'd actually been pretty restrained and polite, all things considered.
Still, I'd taken their brass vessel and orange fruit, so they probably held a grudge over that.
...Whatever, not worth worrying about.
It wasn't even resentment worth resolving.
The most dangerous person they could call was probably someone like Han Chun-oh—no real threat.
As I sorted my thoughts and opened my eyes, Wi Ahan asked cautiously.
"Young Master, are you alright?"
"Yeah. My Dao heart wavered for a moment. I'm good now."
She sighed in relief at my words.
"Why did it waver all of a sudden?"
"Probably from absorbing some of the fox's spirituality while refining it during cultivation."
"The fox's spirituality!"
"Yeah. I hadn't noticed till now, but shaking off that heart demon let me sense it inside me."
Unsure what changes the fox's spirituality might bring, I decided to observe calmly for now.
If I still couldn't figure it out, I'd ask Elder Geum.
"Let's rest first. We haven't had a proper break in ages."
"Yes, Young Master."
I laid out bedding, lay down, and for the first time in a while, truly relaxed. Sleep claimed me swiftly.
"Yoo Lang..."
I woke to a faint voice calling from afar.
"Yoo Lang!"
The moment my eyes opened, beaming Hyang Mae leaped into my arms.
I caught her tightly in both arms.
"Hyang Mae! It's been too long!"
"Yoo Lang! I missed you so much!"
Our duties had kept us apart far too long.
I set aside questions of how she'd appeared so suddenly and simply welcomed her with joy.
Hyang Mae carried a faint ink fragrance.
The calming scent that rose when grinding ink slowly on a stone with water.
I buried my nose in her nape, inhaling deeply, and she nuzzled into my shoulder.
Her body felt incredibly soft in my long-craved embrace, stirring blood to my manhood until it stood rigid, pressing against her mound.
I swept her hem aside and began rubbing my hardness against her precious place.
"Ah... haat...!"
Wi Ahan was flustered.
She'd only approached to gaze at the sleeping Yong Yoo's face, but suddenly he'd pulled her into a fierce embrace.
"Hyang Mae..."
Another woman's name slipped from his lips, stirring a pang of heartache. But the joy of finally holding the Yong Yoo she'd never dared approach overwhelmed it.
After High Heaven Sect enslaved her entire clan, Wi Ahan hated everything.
She hated the sect that had abruptly reduced them to slaves, the cultivators who formed it, and the arts they'd forced her to learn—Uncanny Orchid Wood Method, arrays, feng shui.
She hated the red hair they'd dyed to mock her, her silver eyes from the method—hadn't looked in a mirror in years.
Hated wearing only plain black without adornment, unfit for a slave. Hated her family, who started envying her spiritual aptitude.
They'd accepted slave life for decades, so her rise as a "higher slave," ageless and thriving alone, bred jealousy, curses.
Living in loathing, she'd suddenly been assigned to serve Yong Yoo.
He eased her mind.
No harsh orders despite her new role as his slave. He focused on cultivation, letting her exist quietly.
Dreading brutal labor, she'd instead found years of peace—no toil, no pain.
In his cozy pavilion, she'd healed her heart wounds for the first time since joining the sect.
He demanded nothing, and that won her heart.
Even post-cultivation, no grueling tasks. Just watch the fields, report anomalies.
Before long, he'd woven into her routine; his pavilion became her haven.
Then she saw his unveiled face.
Her heart shook.
She'd harbored faint affection, keeping distance due to his sect ties. But that face erased all petty concerns.
That's cheating.
Just seeing it wrecked her composure.
From mild fondness, he'd burrowed deep into her chest. Yet seeing him meet sect elites, monuments to his deeds, reminded her he was untouchable.
How long had she suffered in silence, cherishing him from afar, content with watching?
"Ah, ah, Y-Young Master, um."
Wi Ahan's face burned crimson as his neared, feeling him grope her quietly, hips grinding.
Lost in dreams, he couldn't penetrate properly; his rigid shaft trapped between her thighs, rubbing silently.
The heat between her legs made her flush.
Shocked at first, now she was thrilled.
Accepting it sparked delight; a sly whisper urged her to seize the chance.
When else could she connect with him?
"..."
Steeling herself, Wi Ahan slid a hand down, grasping his scorching manhood.
"Ah...!"
She startled at the grip.
She knew intellectually what an aroused man's felt like, but touching one was new.
So... hard... long... hot.
Intense presence, like all vital essence condensed solid.
Her delicate fingers traced its girth, length, the glans' curve, bulging veins.
At the tip, slick fluid coated her finger.
"Ah."
Pre-cum, preceding ejaculation to ease entry.
She rubbed it between fingers, then pressed and circled his urethral opening with her palm.
Each stroke drew more pre-cum; she smeared it along his length.
Squelch... squelch...
His heat dried it quickly, turning slick to sticky; lewd sounds rose between her jade hand and his ferocious shaft.
Squelch, squelch, squelch.
Her own sounds fueled her arousal. She leaned in, lips meeting his slowly.
His soft lips parted naturally, as with Do Mun-hyang.
Eyes closing, she covered them, stroking faster.
Kissing him thrilled her senseless.
The taboo of handling his manhood heightened it.
Soon his tongue sought hers; peaking in ecstasy, she tangled wildly, hand pumping.
Squelch! Squelch! Squelch! Squelch!
His shaft twitched honestly per stroke; reading his pleasure spots, she targeted them, varying her grip.
Awkward at first, now encircling the glans base for short pumps, pressing the tip before sliding rootward, twisting for new friction.
His stiffenings from pleasure delighted her; craving to give more, she poured her heart in.
At last.
Spurt!!
Unable to endure, his shaft erupted molten semen into her palm.
"Ah..."
As he climaxed, Wi Ahan felt triumph, satisfaction, faint regret. Lips parting, she looked down.
Her fair hand dripped with heavy, sticky seed; musky night-bloom scent filled the room.
Men end after one...
Regret at no penetration mingled as she pulled away—but
"Ah..."
His manhood stood unyielding post-climax; her eyes widened.
Books said it shrank smaller than a pinky; his seemed indignant at retreat.
"B-Books and reality... really are different..."
She murmured in awe.
Length, girth, volume—nothing matched the texts. As if they'd understated grossly.
Seeing it rigid reignited her pounding heart, banishing regret.
No hesitation now; she grasped it, spread her legs, guiding him to her deepest treasure.
"Young Master, Young Master..."
She whispered to his dream-mired self.
"Please accept my first time..."
And so, the two became one.