Jingliu's white dress was half-undone, her ice sword held loosely at her side. Her long, snow-white legs peeked faintly through the flowing hem of her pristine skirt.
Yet, the sword fairy's expression remained noble and aloof, her moonlit silver hair cascading freely down her back.
Faced with Ye Feng's question, Jingliu showed no trace of emotion, her face calm and indifferent.
As if it were of no concern to her at all.
"You don't actually believe that 'remaining unmoved by the heart' means the Mara cannot affect you, do you? Well, alright, perhaps that's true—the Mara can influence you, but it can't control you. But I've already told you, I'm not an illusion conjured by the Mara."
In response to Ye Feng's words, Jingliu steadied her breath, focusing inward, utterly unshaken.
She treated him as nothing more than a demon seeking to lure her into complete corruption.
If this were truly an inner demon born from within, it would indeed be powerless to disturb Jingliu's mental state.
"Fine. If you won't speak now, don't beg for mercy later."
Ye Feng carried Jingliu to the large bed draped in pink gauze.
Though it was night, the room was brilliantly lit. Against the peach-colored décor, the sword fairy's white dress resembled a half-bloomed lotus—serene, pure, perfectly blending icy elegance and alluring charm into a single form.
Her skin was flawless like fine jade, delicate and smooth, so tender it seemed it might bruise at a touch.
The graceful curve of her swan-like neck, the soft slope of her slender shoulders, the narrow, supple waist that could be encircled with ease, and the long, exquisite legs—every inch of her was breathtaking.
"So beautiful… yet so cold."
This wasn't a comment on her temperament, but her body.
Perhaps due to the Mara's influence, or simply her innate constitution, Jingliu's body was as cold as the winter moon.
"Let me warm you up a little."
Ye Feng opened his palm, revealing a crimson gem the size of a pigeon's egg. It glowed faintly, its translucent depths swirling with what seemed like flowing flames, radiating gentle warmth.
"See? With this, your body should feel a little warmer, right?"
Ye Feng smirked, his fingers trailing along Jingliu's elegant spine, down to the base, then lower.
And then—he pushed it in.
"Hmm, this size fits just right."
"!!?"
Stunned by the unexpected turn, Jingliu's body stiffened. She whipped her head around—
Only to see one crimson gem after another appearing in his hand, each pressed tightly against the next, forming a straight line…
It looked exactly like candied hawthorns.
When Jingliu was young, training with her sword, enduring hardship after hardship, even a single bite of candied hawthorn had been enough to bring her satisfaction.
"Heh, you're right—it really does look like candied hawthorn. Master, your disciple would like to offer you some."
"??"
The next moment, Jingliu felt a wave of searing heat press inward.
The process lasted a full five minutes.
Jingliu lay prone, teeth clenched.
She was completely stunned.
Never had she experienced such a… mental attack.
It truly nearly clouded her sword heart.
After a dazed pause, Jingliu bit her lip, glaring at Ye Feng with a mix of shame and fury.
Old Ye found her flushed expression utterly adorable. This elusive, noble, and cold former swordmaster of the Xianzhou, capable of such a look—
The contrast in her status only heightened a certain kind of delight.
So, Ye Feng pulled the "candied hawthorns" back out—truly like large and small pearls falling upon a jade plate.
Jingliu could no longer suppress it—a muffled moan escaped.
Her neck arched high, the line of her jaw and throat merging into one.
And then, slowly, he fed her the candied hawthorns again.
Once that tightly held breath was released, restraint became impossible.
Jingliu's fists clenched, her knuckles whitening, silver teeth biting down on strands of her own hair.
Yet, from her nose, soft sounds still drifted out.
Like raindrops dripping intermittently from eaves at night, a delicate, pleasant chime.
———
...
Somewhere in the universe, on an unnamed planet.
This place existed in perpetual "night," with only rare moments offering a glimpse of the "sun."
In the dim darkness, a cool, crystalline flame burned—not a true fire, but a condensed light of pure energy.
It hovered within a cave, casting icy illumination over the heavy, patterned stone walls.
A slender figure sat in meditation.
She wore no adornments, cold and sharp as a blade.
Her azure battle armor gradually blurred, replaced by flowing white robes, ethereal as an immortal's.
The high waistline of her swordswoman's attire accentuated her full, jade-like bust while further outlining the alluring curves of her slender waist and hips.
Her hair cascaded like a waterfall down her back, lightly brushing past her hips.
Jingliu's delicate brows furrowed.
The scorching, bead-like heat brought by the "Mara" had followed her back to her true body.
She didn't need to open her eyes to sense the changes within herself.
"Why have even my clothes transformed…? Could it truly be as he said in the illusion—able to affect reality?"
Jingliu's frown deepened.
Under the Mara's influence, she would sometimes descend into madness, severing all sensation, viewing herself as nothing but a sword capable of cutting through all.
Though she had long crossed her limits, lingering at the edge of the Mara's grasp, its flare-ups still consumed her with hatred, driving her to pursue the obsessions of the past.
But never before had it been as… absurd as these past two days.
Jingliu rose, her white dress trailing behind her.
She felt the strange heat in her body, observed the unfamiliar garments, and her heart filled with confusion.
None of the Xianzhou's recorded texts mentioned the Mara inducing such transformations…
Few in the Xianzhou could resist the Mara's pull.
And none of them would leave records.
Take Jingliu herself—her name had long been erased, leaving her a traitor wandering the borders of the Mara.
Yet… these past two days, though the Mara's episodes had been outrageous, they hadn't dragged her into madness.
Jingliu shook her head and stepped out of the cave.
The night wind lifted her skirt, revealing smooth calves veiled in sheer stockings, their fair skin bathed in moonlight.
The cool breeze did nothing to dispel the very real heat within her.
Moreover, with each step, she felt an odd sense of obstruction, making movement somewhat difficult.
"The candied hawthorns… surely they couldn't have been brought into reality too?"
A faint blush colored Jingliu's cheeks as she reached down to check.
She froze.
Like a frozen spring, the strings of a lute seizing mid-note—silence.
What horrified her more was that she couldn't remove them.
Shame. Anger. A storm of emotions surged within her.
"The Mara… Ye Feng!"
Jingliu's composure shattered.
The black cloth covering her eyes slipped away, revealing pupils gleaming with a soul-piercing crimson light.
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