Immortal Skirt Concealing Traces, Black Flame Fusion Spirit Pill
The faint light of dawn filtered through the window lattice, dispelling the dark aura within the guest room.
Mu Xueyi stirred awake leisurely, opening her clear yet faintly weary peach-blossom eyes.
The moment consciousness returned, subtle aches and lingering tingles radiated from every part of her body, like a silent tide reminding her of the outrageous events of the previous night.
Especially between her legs—that indescribable swelling made a faint blush rise uncontrollably on her cold features, only to be swiftly overlaid by deeper frost.
Because she saw Su Rui's face.
The bastard was lying on his side, propping his head with one hand. He had clearly been awake for a while, staring at her without the slightest evasion. His deep eyes gleamed with undisguised triumph and amusement, the corners of his mouth hooked in that wicked grin she loathed.
"Wifey, did you sleep well?"
Mu Xueyi ignored him, her gaze dropping to the plain white gauze skirt discarded carelessly on the floor, stained with dust and ambiguous traces.
It was the witness to how he had roughly stripped it off her last night and tossed it aside like trash.
A flicker of barely perceptible pain and humiliation flashed in her eyes, swiftly buried under even firmer icy resolve.
Her slender hand rose lightly, spiritual light flickering at her fingertips. The crumpled gauze skirt turned into a streak of flowing light, vanishing deep into her storage pouch—as if sealing away all the unbearable memories of the night along with it.
Without delay, she rose from the couch, turning her back to Su Rui and retrieving a fresh set of ice-blue flowing immortal skirt. The garment flowed like water, shimmering with a cool luster reminiscent of moonlight.
Dawn's light traced her graceful back and slender waist, outlining a hazy silhouette.
The light gauze draped over her jade-like form once more, wide sleeves concealing her icy skin. Each ribbon she tied was slow and deliberate, as if piecing back together her shattered dignity—sealing that breathtaking beauty and the frenzied imprints of the night beneath this emblem of chill detachment.
"Heh heh, wifey, you're awfully composed."
Su Rui's voice rang out again, laced with teasing: "This husband figured the first thing you'd do upon waking was try to kill me."
Only after securing the final slender ribbon did Mu Xueyi slowly turn, her gaze cool and serene as it settled on Su Rui's face.
"Since it was a matter I agreed to with my own mouth, I won't take offense."
Her voice was faint, devoid of ripples: "Even if you humiliate me in the most degrading way, I can endure it."
With that, her peach-blossom eyes turned icy as they fixed on him: "But remember your promise—this is only once! If there's any next time you force yourself on me, I will not yield."
Su Rui chuckled lowly, throwing off the covers and rising from the couch. His robust, muscular frame gleamed in the morning light. He stretched casually, his amused gaze roaming her tense face: "Oh? From what wifey says, if I don't 'force' it... does that mean there could be a next time?"
"None of that—don't even dream it!"
Mu Xueyi's eyes grew colder still. Her slender hand pointed to the door: "You can leave now. I'm afraid if I look at you any longer, I won't be able to resist drawing my sword and carving you into pieces."
"Go ahead and draw it then."
Su Rui shrugged indifferently, mocking: "You can't beat laozi anyway. Might as well loosen up these bones."
Mu Xueyi said no more. Her slender hand clenched the air, and Minglan materialized in an instant. Icy sword intent flooded the room, its chilling killing pressure locking onto Su Rui.
But Su Rui just burst into laughter. His figure blurred, and he was already at the door, casually snatching his outer robe from the screen.
"Just kidding, wifey—why get mad? This husband suddenly feels like taking a stroll. It's rare to visit the most prosperous hub of the demonic path; who knows, I might snag some unexpected treasures."
With that, he pushed open the door without lingering, his laughter echoing as he departed—leaving behind sword intent that hadn't fully dissipated and a room of frigid silence.
Mu Xueyi stared at the door still swaying faintly. Only after a long moment did she slowly withdraw Minglan.
As Minglan vanished, it let out a nearly inaudible hum—like the unheard sigh deep in her heart.
She walked to the window and pushed it open, letting the crisp morning air flood in, trying to dispel the invasive masculine scent that belonged to Su Rui, along with that faint, blush-inducing lascivious air.
Su Rui left Youquan Pavilion; he did indeed have a destination in mind.
Memories scavenged from Blood Nether Demon Lord's divine soul revealed that this city's "Jubao Pavilion" had deep reserves, with rare and exotic materials often circulating. Its top fifth floor was exclusive to Nascent Soul cultivators, offering exceptionally precious items.
Jubao Pavilion stood on Black Abyss City's most bustling street—a grand five-story tower topped with rare ink-jade glazed tiles that gleamed with a dark sheen even under the overcast sky.
The lintel was carved from black goldstone, the three gilded characters "Jubao Pavilion" scripted in bold, soaring strokes exuding crude opulence.
The moment Su Rui stepped inside, a bizarre medley of scents from spiritual materials, pills, and magic artifacts assailed him.
A sharp-eyed attendant in green robes hurried over, his face beaming with professional deference: "Fellow Daoist, welcome. What might you need? This one can guide and introduce."
Su Rui's gaze swept the crowded first floor. "No need. Take me to the fifth floor."
As he spoke, he quietly withdrew his qi-concealing art. A thread of pure, vast Nascent Soul spiritual pressure leaked out subtly.
The attendant, merely at Foundation Establishment, paled under the mountain-like weight. His waist bent nearly ninety degrees, his tone dripping reverence: "S-so... a Nascent Soul senior! This junior was blind—forgive me, Senior! Please follow; the fifth floor requires a steward's personal reception."
The attendant led Su Rui through the crowd, up a restricted side staircase straight to the fourth floor.
The fourth floor was far more serene and elegant, its displayed treasures rarer.
A middle-aged man in a purple brocade robe, sharp-featured and at late Core Formation, awaited. He cupped his hands in salute—not servile, but respectful: "This one is Jubao Pavilion steward Zhao Yuan. Greetings, Senior. Granny Wen awaits on the fifth. Please."
Su Rui nodded slightly and followed Zhao the steward up the final stairs.
At the fifth floor entrance, light flashed. An invisible restriction verified his cultivation before silently parting.
The fifth floor wasn't vast, but exquisitely appointed: soft snowfox rugs underfoot, walls hung with moody demonic landscape paintings, and in the corner, a purple copper censer wafting soothing "Demon Sandalwood" incense—rich yet not cloying.
A white-haired crone in plain hemp robes, gripping a snake-head cane, emerged slowly from the inner chamber. Her face was kindly, eyes hawk-sharp; her spiritual fluctuations marked her as a Nascent Soul cultivator too.
"This old one is Granny Wen. Greetings, Fellow Daoist."
Her voice was raspy yet authoritative: "You seem unfamiliar. First time at Black Abyss City's Jubao Pavilion?"
Su Rui replied concisely: "Passing through on travels. Heard your pavilion has abundant treasures; came seeking a few materials."
"What does Fellow Daoist need? Speak freely."
"Nine Nether Profound Fiend Iron, Black Obsidian, Wind Soul Jade."
Su Rui named the three—the main materials for refining his demonic spear, Robbery Flame.
Granny Wen's eyes flickered with surprise. After a moment's thought: "What Fellow Daoist seeks is no trifle. Nine Nether Profound Fiend Iron is utterly yin and cold, from the ten-thousand-zhang demonic abyss—rarely surfaces these days. Wind Soul Jade is top-grade wind-attribute spirit jade, supreme for wind magic treasures; only findable in perilous Tianfeng Valley's depths. Black Obsidian, though—this pavilion stocks it year-round."
Su Rui had expected as much; he hadn't hoped for the first two here.
But Black Obsidian was available—grab that first.
"How much Black Obsidian?"
"How much does Fellow Daoist need?"
"A hundred pieces."
Su Rui's tone was casual, as if asking for a hundred pebbles.
Granny Wen was genuinely taken aback: "Fellow Daoist, Black Obsidian isn't the rarest, but it vastly boosts artifact hardness and spiritual conduction—prime auxiliary for high-grade treasures, and pricey."
A hundred pieces? Even Nascent Soul cultivators rarely shelled out equivalent spirit stones or treasures at once.
Su Rui, prepared, smiled lightly: "Your pavilion accepts barters, yes?"
Granny Wen nodded: "Naturally."
Su Rui produced a sheep-fat white jade vial, smooth and sealed tight, no qi leaking.
"Pills in this vial—how many Black Obsidian?"
Granny Wen took it, uncorked the spirit-wax seal, and sniffed delicately.
Instantly, composure shattered into shock. She inhaled deeply again, eyes blazing: "This... what spirit pill? Such pure, vast demonic qi! Fused with a profoundly subtle exotic fire source... For demonic cultivators, it's a supreme boon for advancing cultivation and tempering demonic essence! Fellow Daoist, forgive this old one's ignorance—what method forged this?"
"Proprietary secret. Not for sharing."
"Overstepped. What's it called?"
"I've named it Black Flame Fusion Spirit Pill. How does Granny Wen rate it against Xuanmo Condensing Essence Pill?"
Su Rui mentioned the latter deliberately—Yan Mingli had gifted it at Mu Xueyi's Core Formation ceremony, causing a stir as a renowned Nascent Soul cultivation holy medicine in demonic circles.
"Far superior to Xuanmo Condensing Essence Pill!"
Granny Wen declared without hesitation, voice quivering with excitement: "Fellow Daoist's pill has impeccably pure demonic qi, and that exotic fire fuses perfectly with demonic essence—miraculous for refining mana and stabilizing realms! Even late Nascent Soul benefits greatly!"
Su Rui smiled: "Ten pills in the vial. Enough for a hundred Black Obsidian?"
"More than enough!"
Granny Wen rushed: "This vial exceeds a hundred Black Obsidian! Our pavilion will add a hundred thousand superior-grade spirit stones as change."
Su Rui's expression unchanged, he flicked his sleeve again—five identical vials appeared on the table.
"Plus these—can we exchange for ten million superior-grade spirit stones?"
Granny Wen's breath hitched at the five vials. Even with her vast experience managing Jubao Pavilion, she'd never seen such high-quality Nascent Soul pills in bulk.
"F-Fellow Daoist has so many Black Flame Fusion Spirit Pills!"
She inspected each, confirming, voice trembling: "More than enough for ten million superior-grade spirit stones! Even surplus! If Fellow Daoist agrees, we can offer more..."
Su Rui cut in: "Ten million's fine. The excess is my way of making a friend."
Granny Wen beamed, ordering Zhao the steward to fetch the stones and obsidian.
The transaction was swift and smooth.
Soon, an exquisite storage pouch reached Su Rui.
A divine sense scan revealed mountains of superior-grade spirit stones—over ten million.
Plus a hundred fist-sized Black Obsidian chunks gleaming darkly.
Granny Wen solemnly presented a purple-gold edged token engraved "Jubao," her wrinkles smoothing into a smile: "Fellow Daoist is refreshingly straightforward; this old one admires it. This is our highest token, the Purple-Gold Token. Holders enjoy eight-fold discounts at all our branches across the nine provinces, plus top-tier sky-boxes at auctions everywhere."
Her voice lowered, sincere: "To be frank, Fellow Daoist—in four days, Black Abyss City's auction features several peerless rarities, including the Nine Nether Profound Fiend Iron you asked about."
Su Rui took the token, feeling its distinctive warm coolness, eyebrow arched: "Oh? That's worth a hundred thousand spirit stones."
"I figured you'd attend anyway and learn then. This is just early word."
Granny Wen chuckled, her smile deepening as he pocketed it: "If more such pills come, Jubao Pavilion will always pay top price. From now on, you're our most honored ally."
"Well said. Transaction done—I'll take my leave."
"Farewell, Fellow Daoist."
Granny Wen escorted him to the stairs, watching respectfully till he vanished.
As Su Rui's figure disappeared around the bend, Zhao Yuan approached Granny Wen.
"Granny Wen, shall we investigate his background?"
Granny Wen stared at the empty stairs, fingers stroking her snake-head cane: "Of course. But probe lightly—no deep digs. His bone age is shockingly young—under thirty. Nascent Soul at that age? Either heaven-defying fortune or backed by some colossal force. Either way, not someone we want to rashly antagonize."
She paused, a self-mocking smile tugging her lips: "If he weren't male, this old one might suspect he's that rising star Mu Xueyi."
Zhao Yuan's brows lifted: "Rumor has it Mu Xueyi has heavenly spiritual root, Sword Heart Transparent, formed her core in her early twenties—the pinnacle of talent and beauty in this realm. They say she even clashed evenly with that monster Yan Mingli... I'd love to see such a prodigy myself—what absolute splendor."
Granny Wen's gaze turned distant: "Rumors exaggerate, but her talent and allure are doubtless real. This old one hasn't heard a single soul who's met her question it."
Zhao Yuan rubbed his chin, grinning: "Granny Wen, even if he were female, he couldn't be Mu Xueyi—she'd never dare set foot in our demonic turf."
Granny Wen nodded faintly, eyes complex: "Talent too high isn't always a blessing. Too many in this world—and especially us demonic cultivators—don't want her to keep rising."
Exiting Jubao Pavilion, Su Rui hefted the hefty storage pouch, a surreal sensation washing over him.
Just a year ago, he was an obscure Sword Guard Peak disciple in Sword Sect, taking dull, low-pay sect tasks like guarding the forbidden area for a few mid-grade spirit stones—barely five a month. Compared to casually trading for ten million superior-grade now, it was worlds apart.
But the sentiment passed in a flash.
Spirit stones were mere tools to him.
Without the auction in four days potentially needing massive bids, he'd never bothered refining pills for such a haul.
Those pills? Refined in the seven days before departure.
Thinking back, he almost chuckled.
The Black Flame Fusion Spirit Pills that awed Granny Wen? Based on the cultivation world's cheapest, most common Qi Gathering Pills—barely worth a glance to well-off Foundation Establishment cultivators.
But the Heavenly Extreme Demonic Flame Art's primal black flame wielded decay-to-miracle tyranny.
In those seven days, he'd used black flame to devastatingly refine, purify, and compress hundreds of Qi Gathering Pills.
Internal structures shattered and reformed, impurities incinerated to nothing, vast ambient spiritual qi force-sealed within.
Effects that normal alchemists needed dozens of rare herbs and complex steps for—he achieved with base materials and domineering black flame, even surpassing.
The true genius? The black flame within.
This higher-plane power was tonic and gut-rot poison to this realm's demonic cultivators.
They'd advance via it, but never fully refine the primal black flame.
Like a dormant viper, it lurked silently in the taker's dantian.
"So..."
Su Rui's gaze swept the motley demonic cultivators on the street, voice a murmur for himself alone: "Which 'lucky ones' will receive this laozi's 'generous gift' in the end?"
A chill glinted in his eyes. Should any beneficiaries turn foe someday, one thought would ignite the lurking flame—severing meridians from within, backlash devouring their cultivation.
The rest of the time, Su Rui wandered Black Abyss City idly.
He browsed small shops, lingered at street stalls.
Fish-and-dragon chaos here: shoddy goods, dubious "antiques" of murky origin. Rare decent finds still didn't catch his eye.
No disappointment—he strolled as a detached observer, savoring the demonic mega-city's unique vibe.
Passing a dark alley mouth, raucous clamor hit him—sweat, booze, cheap hallucinogenic incense.
Deep in the alley, a crooked banner flapped in a cold, eerie wind, blood-red "Gamble" character bold.
Doorway thugs with feral eyes and ragged auras hawked loudly at passersby.
Su Rui paused, amusement flickering.
He veered in, vanishing into the underground casino "Kuaihuo Forest."
Half an hour later, he emerged unchanged, Mu Xueyi's spirit stone pouch now deflated. He muttered: "Guess laozi's got no gambling luck."
He tossed the empty pouch idly—no regret over losing it, just lazy amusement from a novel game.
No more wandering; he returned to Youquan Pavilion.
Opening Mu Xueyi's door, he saw her seated on the couch, eyes closed, hands in mudras, faint spiritual halo circulating—she was cultivating.
Hearing the door, she opened her captivating peach-blossom eyes slowly. Frost as ancient as eternal ice filled them.
"Get out."
No hesitation—the icy eviction spilled from her lips.