"Hey—hey! What are you two doing?!"
The sudden voice cut through the air like a blade.
Hei Long didn't even flinch, but Yue Yu jolted slightly in his arms.
From behind—
Lin Fan came stumbling out in a frantic mess.
His expression twisted from suspicion to shock as his gaze zeroed in on Hei Long.
He froze.
His eyes widened to the size of full moons, and then—
"Y-You—YOU!"
Lin Fan staggered backward in a panic, as if he'd just seen a ghost from his nightmares.
He tripped over a loose root and crashed onto his rear with a thud, pointing at Hei Long with a trembling finger.
"You followed me here?! Are you here to take me back!? You think you'll take me alive?!"
Lin Fan scrambled back to his feet, adopting a martial stance that looked more like a street brawler's pose than any form of real cultivation technique.
His knees wobbled slightly, but he held his ground—barely.
Hei Long let out a tired sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if the sight physically pained him.
Then he turned to face the source of this comedic interruption.
"Calm down, would you?" Hei Long said flatly. "I didn't even know you were here."
A blatant lie.
But he delivered it with such casual indifference that it sounded almost believable.
"You liar!" Lin Fan spat, still panting, as he glanced nervously between Hei Long and Yue Yu:
"Don't think I've forgotten what your family did to me!"
Hei Long didn't respond.
He simply raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.
Lin Fan's eyes darted toward Yue Yu, and all at once his posture shifted—his fists unclenched, his breathing slowed.
A spark lit up behind his eyes as he looked at her, softening with awkward hope.
She was close to Hei Long, too close for his liking.
"Yue Yu," Lin Fan said, his voice much quieter now, "why are you alone with… him?"
"…"
Yue Yu blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in tone.
Lin Fan's gaze turned stern again:
"Don't let him take advantage of you. He's dangerous! You don't know what he's capable of!"
Hei Long tilted his head slightly, amused.
"Oh? And what exactly am I capable of?" he asked, voice dripping with calm threat.
"I—I'll tell the Young Miss!" Lin Fan declared, puffing his chest like a frog:
"She'll divorce you if she hears you're getting handsy with someone else! You hear me?!"
Yue Yu blinked in confusion, her brows lifting. "The Young Miss…?"
Hei Long simply chuckled under his breath:
"You misunderstand something important."
Hei Long took a slow step forward.
Lin Fan instinctively stepped back—
But Hei Long didn't go after him.
Instead, he spoke plainly:
"I'm not the bitch in the relationship."
He turned to Yue Yu with a faint smirk, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear:
"Sadly," Hei Long exhaled with mock disappointment, turning his back:
"This woman didn't want to become mine… So alas, I can only walk away in defeat."
Hei Long shrugged, as if accepting the rejection with grace and sorrow.
But just as he passed by Yue Yu, he leaned in close—too fast for Lin Fan to notice—and whispered one word into her ear:
"Your turn."
Yue Yu flinched slightly.
Her body stiffened like a wire suddenly pulled taut.
But then she slipped into character with seamless grace, her eyes narrowing, her voice sharp with feigned defiance.
"I'll never be your woman, Hei Long! Not in a million years!"
She crossed her arms and glared at him, playing her part with surprising conviction.
Hei Long gave a tiny nod, almost imperceptible, before continuing on his way—cool, calm, and unconcerned, like a passing storm that never truly threatened to rain.
Yue Yu turned sharply toward Lin Fan, who still stood stunned in place.
"I'm sorry, Lin Fan," she said with a righteous tone. "Let's get out of here. I want nothing to do with that guy."
And with that, she huffed and began to speed-walk away, her hair flowing behind her.
Lin Fan's heart, which had moments earlier sunk into despair, now surged with renewed hope.
"She… she rejected him?" he muttered to himself, blinking rapidly.
Then, louder, "She rejected him! YES!!"
A fist shot up into the air in victory, and Lin Fan practically bounced on the balls of his feet as he rushed after her.
'I knew she wasn't like the others! I knew she had taste!' he cheered internally, barely able to suppress the stupid grin stretching across his face:
'I still have a chance! I just have to act fast!'
The old man inside Lin Fan was dead silent.
Not out of shock—but out of sheer, soul-crushing disappointment.
The old man who had seen lifetimes of deception, could see it clear as day: this girl was trouble:
'Foolish brat… you're walking straight into a pit full of knives, and you're smiling like it's a bed of roses…'
Yet—
Lin Fan simply ignored him, his vision clouded by the woman before him.
Meanwhile, Hei Long walked away without looking back.
The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips was the only crack in his otherwise stoic mask:
'Hook, line, and sinker.'
Hei Long adjusted the collar of his robe and turned in the direction of the sect's only teahouse.
Now that he was alone and finally free of interruptions, it was time to move on to something far more important.
To start his conquest of a heroine.
The Saintess.
Ji Yao.
Hei Long knew in the novel that the protagonist had stumbled upon her by sheer coincidence and, through some meaningless conversation about tea, left a small impression on her.
In which—
That very minor interaction would eventually blossom into a slow-burning relationship, overshadowing their awkward first encounter.
However—
Hei Long wasn't going to let that happen.
He would cut the root before it sprouted:
'I'll have to reward Yue Yu later… Things will now become much easier.'
Hei Long chuckled under his breath.
The gears of fate had started turning, but not in the way the heavens intended…