The Ultimate Tenderness, Like the Shyness of a Flower That Cannot Bear the Cool Breeze

Was that Old Liu’s hammer?

Why would he suddenly attack me?

No, something’s wrong.

Wang Hu’s gaze shifted to Su Ji.

He saw that Su Ji had already dealt with everyone, though he hadn’t noticed when.

In one hand, Su Ji held that ancient azure sword.

With a kick, he sent a severed head—its eyes still wide with disbelief—rolling across the ground.

Then, he picked up the spear he’d been forced to abandon earlier and strode leisurely toward Wang Hu.

When he reached Wang Hu, he tapped the flat side of the spearhead against the man’s cheek, his face breaking into a bright, familiar smile.

“I told you, my father is the Grand Elder of the Holy Land. Didn’t believe me?”

“If you’d just escorted me out politely, I might’ve been in a good mood and tossed you a few treasures.”

“But no, you had to push me into action.”

“Really, what were you thinking?”

Wang Hu’s lips trembled, but no words came out.

Now he finally understood—Su Ji had been acting the entire time.

From the arrogant young master in the inn to the naive fool in the ruined temple—it was all an act.

They were like two seasoned hunters, while he and his men had been the overconfident prey, blindly stumbling into the trap.

Greed truly was a deadly sin…

“I admit defeat,” Wang Hu rasped.

Su Ji was about to press further—maybe pry into whether the Blood Fiend Sect had any other schemes in motion.

But before he could speak, an immense force yanked him backward.

Stumbling, he barely had time to react before a slender hand seized his collar, dragging him uncontrollably out of the tunnel.

Huh?

Su Jiu’s retribution?

Already?

Before he could even beg for mercy—

BOOM!

A deafening explosion erupted behind him.

The entire underground chamber, along with the ground for a hundred meters around, shuddered violently.

A devastating shockwave, mixed with shattered stone and gore, blasted out from the tunnel entrance.

The corpses of countless female cultivators, the blood-soaked altar—even Wang Hu’s late-stage Golden Core body—were pulverized in an instant.

Utter annihilation.

Even dozens of meters away, Su Ji felt the aftershock roil his qi and blood, his ears ringing.

Where the underground chamber had been, only a bottomless crater remained.

A chill ran down his spine.

If Su Jiu hadn’t pulled him away…

Taking a Golden Core self-destruct at point-blank range?

He’d be lucky to have enough left for a proper burial.

The cultivation world was full of ruthless people.

Every one of them more treacherous than the last.

Since when did a cultivator’s self-destruct give no warning?

“No need to look. That altar was a Blood Fiend Soul-Refining Platform,” Su Jiu’s cool voice cut through his thoughts.

“They strip the skin and blood from living pure-yin maidens above the Foundation Establishment stage, hang them on the altar, and torture them for three days and nights until they die in utmost agony and hatred…”

“Only then can a vengeful wraith be refined.”

Her tone was detached, as if discussing something unrelated to her, but Su Ji noticed the slight tension in her fingertips.

“That man must have been carrying a Soul Banner.”

"If he succeeds in refining those vengeful spirits, dozens of Foundation Establishment-level ghosts will roam the night, their resentment dense enough to blot out the sun and devour every living thing in sight."

"Wiping out an entire Wang'an City wouldn’t be difficult."

As Su Jiu spoke, she tilted her head slightly, casting a glance at Su Ji with her cold, clear eyes, her expression tinged with complexity.

This bastard—somehow, by sheer accident—seemed to have stumbled upon the truth behind the massacre.

As for Wang Hu’s claim that the destruction of Anyang City wasn’t their doing?

Who would believe that?

It was like catching Su Ji red-handed in some misdeed—would he ever admit to it honestly?

Of course not.

"Let’s head back."

Su Jiu withdrew her gaze and turned toward the direction of Wang'an City.

"We still need to meet up with the other two sects in Anyang City by noon tomorrow."

Su Ji gave a wordless acknowledgment and followed.

But as they walked, he noticed something off about Su Jiu’s gait.

It wasn’t as labored as when she’d limped step by step after he’d broken through her defenses in the underground lava cavern.

Yet there was still a faint unevenness to her movements.

"Are you hurt?"

Su Ji frowned.

Su Jiu didn’t stop walking, answering indifferently, "Mn."

"Just a minor injury. Nothing serious."

"I’ll recover after a couple of days of meditation."

She didn’t seem particularly concerned.

For cultivators, life-and-death battles were commonplace—no one could emerge unscathed every time.

Of course, it was also possible she didn’t want a certain bastard to know she’d been injured because she’d been too distracted worrying about him.

But Su Ji didn’t see it that way.

"A couple of days isn’t enough."

He quickened his pace to walk beside her.

"We’re meeting the Blood Fiend Sect and the Joyful Union Sect by noon tomorrow."

"If you’re injured and another conflict breaks out, how will you fight?"

Su Jiu’s steps faltered slightly.

She found herself, once again, at a loss for words.

"So what?"

She resumed walking, her tone devoid of emotion.

"I’ve never heard of my senior brother having any skill in healing others."

She admitted—this bastard of a senior brother had an endless bag of tricks, always pulling out something unimaginable just when she thought she’d seen through him.

But healing was different from combat.

It required either pure, gentle wood- or water-attribute spiritual energy, or an absurdly high level of control over one’s spiritual power.

Su Ji’s fire techniques might look impressive…

But his spiritual energy was sharp, carrying an indescribable aura of destruction.

It had nothing to do with the word "healing."

"You think you know everything?" Su Ji’s voice came from behind her.

Su Jiu paused again.

Su Ji caught up in a few strides but didn’t press the topic further, his gaze dropping to her legs instead.

"Your leg’s injured?"

Su Jiu stiffened imperceptibly but didn’t turn around, only letting out a cold humph—an implicit confirmation.

"Sit over there."

Su Ji pointed to a large, flat, and relatively clean bluestone by the roadside.

"I can walk on my own."

Despite her refusal, Su Jiu’s steps slowed.

Su Ji didn’t argue, simply walking ahead to the bluestone and casually brushing off the dust with his sleeve.

Su Jiu bit her lower lip.

Silently, she finally relented and walked over to sit down.

"Which leg?"

With a huff, Su Jiu extended her right leg.

There was a barely noticeable cut on her toe, precisely where the poisoned throwing dagger had grazed her.

Su Ji didn’t say a word, simply crouching down naturally.

He reached out and gently lifted the hem of Su Jiu’s robe.

Su Jiu shuddered, instinctively trying to pull her leg back.

But Su Ji’s hand was already wrapped around her ankle—his grip wasn’t forceful, yet it left no room for refusal.

She could feel the warmth radiating from his palm,

sending a fine shiver rippling across the skin of her entire calf.

A soft breeze drifted by, tousling a loose strand of hair at Su Jiu’s forehead.

She instinctively lowered her gaze—only to meet Su Ji’s upturned eyes.

He knelt before her, looking up, his usually mischievous gaze now strikingly clear and bright under the moonlight.

In them, her own flustered face was reflected with perfect clarity.

Su Jiu’s heart skipped a beat.

A flush of pink spread swiftly across her cheeks.

She abruptly turned her head away, no longer daring to meet his eyes, though her words still carried a stubborn edge:

“What are you staring at?”

The tenderest moment—like a delicate bloom shyly trembling in the cool breeze.