Chapter 117: Planting a Xuan Vein

Yun Qiao froze where she was, staring blankly. Ye Yuan’s expression only grew darker when she didn’t move, irritation simmering in his eyes. Then, without a word, he strode over to her.

“Grandmaster, you—”

Before she could finish the sentence, he suddenly crouched down, grabbed the collar of her robes, and—

Rip!

The sound was sharp and merciless. Not just her outer robe, even her inner garment tore open in one swift pull. Cold air rushed against her bare skin from her abdomen up to her chest, chilling her to the bone.

Her eyes flew wide open. Years of composure shattered in an instant, replaced by disbelief and the burning sting of humiliation. Instinctively, she swung a hand across his face.

Smack!

The crisp sound echoed through the icy room.

Ye Yuan’s face was perfectly fine. Yun Qiao, however, heard a horrifying crack—her wrist had dislocated.

Ye Yuan: “…”

Yun Qiao: “…”

Damn it!

Her broken wrist seemed to snap him out of his temper. He released her collar, grabbed her injured hand, and—completely ignoring her murderous glare—began setting the joint back into place. His voice was calm, steady, and utterly unbothered.

“Stop fidgeting. If you’re upset about the clothes, I’ll compensate you with a new robe.”

Then, as if to prove his words, he actually produced a flowing immortal garment and shoved it into her arms. It shimmered faintly with celestial light.

It was, however, men’s style. Identical to the one he was wearing.

Yun Qiao: “…”

w(Д)w

Was that the point?! Don’t think I won’t beat you just because you’re good-looking and my elder!

Still, the look in his eyes was utterly clean—no desire, no teasing. He truly didn’t seem to understand what he’d done wrong. Taking a deep breath, Yun Qiao forced down her outrage, clutched the robe against her chest, and said as evenly as she could, “Grandmaster, this… isn’t appropriate.”

His hand paused mid-motion. His face darkened again, cold anger flickering in his eyes. “What isn’t appropriate?”

“Everything about it!” she said, slipping into her most formal tone.

“Nonsense!” The temperature around them dropped another degree as his spiritual aura surged. “I said it’s appropriate, so it is. No one’s more suitable than mine. You’re talented, but others’ would be useless for you.”

“…Wait, Grandmaster, what exactly are we talking about?”

“No more questions!” His voice turned commanding, every word cutting like ice. “You entered my lineage, so you’ll do as I say. Whether you want it or not—today, this Xuan Vein will be planted!”

“Xuan Vein?!” Yun Qiao blinked, realization dawning on her. “You mean—you were trying to give me a Xuan Vein just now?”

His brows knitted, his tone still clipped. “Can’t I?”

Yun Qiao stared at him, speechless. You could’ve said that earlier! Who starts tearing someone’s clothes without explaining? When ordering food, at least people tell you how they want the steak cooked first!

She sighed—then froze.

Wait.

Didn’t he just say—

“You… you’re planting your own Xuan Vein into me?!” she exclaimed.

“Mm.” Ye Yuan nodded, looking entirely unconcerned, as if saying, I’m not using it anyway; take it if you want. Glancing toward the sunlight outside, he added matter-of-factly, “It’s already noon—the timing’s perfect.”

With that, he turned his hand over. Something invisible flickered there, transparent yet pulsing faintly with power. Yun Qiao realized, in disbelief, that he was literally holding his own Xuan Vein—completely translucent.

Her mind was spinning, but Ye Yuan’s expression was calm and serious. “No time to waste. Let’s begin.”

Before she could react, he reached out, pulling away the robe she was clutching for modesty, and pressed his hand against her chest.

A sudden searing heat—then a sharp, stinging current surged into her body.

She looked down at his hand on her chest, then back up at his perfectly serious face. Great. First he strips me, now he’s groping me. Is joining the Xuan Sect supposed to be this expensive?

Ye Yuan froze as well. He’d only intended to implant his Xuan Vein into her meridians, but the moment his palm made contact, the softness beneath it startled him. His hand seemed to sink slightly against her skin—so very different from his rough, battle-hardened disciples.

Something unfamiliar flickered in his chest. His ears felt oddly warm, and the warmth crept up toward his face. Strange. Is this because I lost my Xuan Vein?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. Yun Qiao’s sharp cry snapped him back.

“Ah—it hurts!”

She’d been kneeling, but the pain was so excruciating she couldn’t stay upright. Her whole body trembled, collapsing forward.

“Little disciple?!” Ye Yuan caught her instinctively.

Her face was deathly pale, her body slick with cold sweat. The agony twisted her features—like she was being flayed alive. Desperate to relieve the pain, she grabbed at him wildly, clawing wherever her hands landed.

It hurt—it hurt so much! This is worse than brain surgery without anesthesia!

Ye Yuan realized belatedly that while implanting a Xuan Vein was no big deal for an immortal, it was excruciating for a mortal body. He shouldn’t have rushed it. Seeing her bite down hard enough to draw blood, he quickly formed a seal and sent her into unconsciousness.

Once she went limp, he pressed his fingers to her brow, channeling his celestial energy to guide and stabilize the newly merged vein. Slowly, his energy threaded through her meridians, soothing and refining the chaotic current.

He repeated the process over a dozen times before his own vein finally settled, fusing seamlessly within her body. Only then did he pull his hand back, exhaling faintly.

Looking down at the girl in his arms, he noticed that her aura had changed—there was now a faint, cold detachment to it, eerily similar to his own. Even her usually stern little face looked… somehow more stern.

Ye Yuan’s lips twitched in faint satisfaction.

But then his gaze dropped—her torn robe gaping open across her chest, pale skin exposed just inches from his eyes. He thought of that earlier, shockingly soft touch—

His fingers twitched. He turned away quickly, suppressing the impulse to reach out again.

With a sigh, he picked up the immortal robe he’d given her earlier, intending to dress her properly. But holding her in his arms made it nearly impossible to do so, and besides, that robe was infused with his own immortal energy—too strong for her current state.

After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to call for help.

Forming a hand seal, he sent a voice transmission to the “old piece of dead wood” below.

(End of Chapter)