Ye Xuan Got Cheated On Again

In their previous life, the young Ye Xuan and Ye Qingcheng were a fairy-tale couple envied by everyone in the mortal realm.

Their parents were all rogue cultivators; their families were close friends, and the two were childhood sweethearts.

Back then, Ye Qingcheng had eyes only for Ye Xuan.

When she was tired from practicing swordplay, she would unreservedly lean on Ye Xuan's shoulder and act coquettishly.

When she obtained a low-grade spirit stone, she would joyfully insist on sharing half of it with him.

"Brother Ye Xuan, when we become great cultivators in the future, we can live forever and never have to be apart."

That was the promise she made at the age of sixteen, her voice as crisp and melodious as a clear mountain spring.

However, tragedy struck on that fateful day.

They mistakenly wandered into an ancient array and were teleported into the territory of the Hehuan Sect.

To survive, and to pursue the Great Dao of immortality, the two joined hands and passed the entrance exam.

However, the testing stele that day coldly drew a boundary between their destinies.

Ye Xuan, four-element spirit root, mediocre aptitude, barely qualified to enter the outer sect.

Ye Qingcheng, heaven spirit root, and possessing the special Nine Yin Profound Charm Physique, instantly shocked the inner sect elders.

At first, Ye Xuan didn't think this was a disaster.

He was happy for his wife, even naively believing that as long as their hearts were connected, the gap in status would be nothing but a fleeting cloud.

However, the Hehuan Sect, as the name implied, cultivated the Great Dao of Yin and Yang, practicing the arts of ultimate bliss.

Ye Qingcheng's Nine Yin Profound Charm Physique was a taboo constitution, and a double-edged sword.

This physique allowed her cultivation to progress at a tremendous pace, but every once in a while, the lust poison in her body would erupt like boiling magma.

The pain was like ten thousand ants biting her heart. Without the harmony of a man's primal yang, her cultivation would inevitably regress.

For the first half-year, Ye Xuan could still manage.

Every time the lust poison flared up, Ye Qingcheng's face would flush red, her scorching body shrinking into his arms. Her nails would dig deep into his flesh as she murmured his name.

Ye Xuan gave it his all, using his meager cultivation to soothe her, intertwining with her.

Although it was exhausting, back then, after the pleasure, Ye Qingcheng would always kiss his cheek with tears in her eyes: "Husband, you've worked so hard. I only want you in this life."

But as Ye Qingcheng's cultivation broke through to the peak of Qi Condensation, approaching the Foundation Establishment realm, the lust poison in her body became increasingly overbearing.

Ye Xuan was just an ordinary mid-stage Qi Condensation cultivator. His primal yang, to the current Ye Qingcheng, was like a cup of water poured into a desert—instantly evaporating, completely unable to alleviate her suffering.

On the night three days later.

The wind howled, and the rain poured down.

The sky seemed torn apart by an invisible giant hand, and billions of tons of freezing rainwater cascaded down, smashing against the roofs of the dilapidated cottages in the Hehuan Sect's outer sect, making a heart-palpitating pattering sound.

However, this noise could not cover up the suffocating anxiety inside the room.

Inside, the candlelight flickered wildly in the cold draft seeping through the window cracks, twisting the elongated shadows into hideous shapes.

"Ugh... ah..."

On the bed, Ye Qingcheng had lost her usual cold and noble demeanor.

Her stunningly beautiful face was flushed completely red, and a strange, enchanting pink glow faintly emanated from beneath her skin—a sign that the lust poison was attacking her heart.

Her hands gripped the bedsheets beneath her tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force, while her throat let out intermittent moans that sounded like both agony and yearning.

"Qingcheng! Hold on a little longer, I'm circulating my energy!"

Ye Xuan knelt by the bed, his eyes bloodshot and his face as pale as paper.

He pressed his hands against his wife's dantian. The pitifully thin Qi Condensation spiritual energy from his own dantian poured frantically into her body like a trickling stream.

However, this was utterly inadequate.

The lust poison inside Ye Qingcheng was like an awakened prehistoric beast. The moment Ye Xuan's spiritual energy made contact, it was like a drop of water falling into boiling oil—instantly swallowed whole, even triggering a more violent backlash.

"Bang!"

A scorching wave of air suddenly erupted from Ye Qingcheng's body. Ye Xuan felt as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer; he was violently sent flying, crashing heavily into the wooden cabinet behind him.

"Pfft!"

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Ye Xuan ignored the severe pain in his chest and scrambled back to the bed on his hands and knees.

"Ye Xuan... it's not working... it's not enough..." Ye Qingcheng's consciousness was already beginning to scatter. Driven by extreme heat, she instinctively tore at her collar, exposing large patches of snow-white skin to the murky air, covered in red spots from the poison's outbreak: "So hot... I need... I need to cool down... I want..."

"How could this happen!" Ye Xuan trembled as he grasped his wife's hand, his tears mixing with the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

He hated his inferior spirit root; he hated that, even after three years in the sect, he was still lingering in the Qi Condensation realm.

In the Hehuan Sect, lust poison was not a terminal illness. It only required a high-level cultivator to guide dual cultivation with pure primal yang to resolve it. But he couldn't do it.

Just as Ye Xuan was about to bite the tip of his tongue and burn his essence blood for one last desperate gamble...

"Boom!"

The rickety door was kicked open without any warning.

The howling wind, mixed with freezing rain, instantly flooded the room, blowing out the only oil lamp.

The moment darkness descended, several incredibly tyrannical auras barged in. It was the oppressive might unique to Foundation Establishment cultivators, pressing down like mountains and instantly immobilizing Ye Xuan.

A flash of lightning tore through the night sky, its pale light illuminating three figures at the doorway.

The leader wore the brocade robes of a Hehuan Sect inner disciple, a jade belt hung at his waist. His face was handsome, yet it carried an air of wicked lust.

His name was Zhao Tianba, and he had long been coveting Ye Qingcheng.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, it truly saddens the listener and brings tears to the beholder."

Zhao Tianba stepped over the threshold, his gaze bypassing Ye Xuan on the floor to stare fixedly at Ye Qingcheng tossing on the bed. Undisguised greed and fanaticism flashed in his eyes: "Junior Brother Ye, if this lust poison isn't cured soon, Junior Sister Qingcheng is going to die with her meridians shattered inch by inch."

"Get out! This is my home!" Ye Xuan's eyes were bloodshot. He tried to stand up, but a lackey beside Zhao Tianba casually shot a burst of energy at his knee.

With a crisp crack, the sound of bone fracturing was clearly audible. Ye Xuan let out a miserable shriek and fell back to his knees.

"Home? In the Hehuan Sect, only the strong have the right to speak of a home."

Zhao Tianba walked up to Ye Xuan and looked down at him from above, a cruel sneer curling the corners of his mouth: "Junior Brother Ye, a person must know their own limits. If you truly love her, don't act like a dog in the manger. What she needs right now is the pure yang energy of the Foundation Establishment realm. With your pathetic bit of cultivation, you are harming her, you are killing her!"

"No... I won't let you touch her..." Ye Xuan gripped Zhao Tianba's trouser leg fiercely, his nails digging into the fabric.

"So noisy."

Zhao Tianba frowned in disgust, raising his foot and kicking Ye Xuan viciously in the chest.

This kick used no spiritual energy, but it carried the brute physical strength of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

Ye Xuan was sent flying like a kite with a broken string, soaring straight out the shattered doorway and crashing heavily into the muddy courtyard.

"Bang!" The door slammed shut right in front of Ye Xuan.

Immediately after, a sound-isolating barrier rose up.

Whether it was intentional or purely to humiliate Ye Xuan, the barrier only blocked his sight, deliberately letting the sounds slip through.

The torrential rain fell even heavier.

The freezing rain instantly soaked Ye Xuan to the bone, washing away the blood at the corner of his mouth, but it could not wash away the humiliation boiling like magma in his heart.

He lay prone in the muddy water, his hands gripping the muck on the ground so tightly that his fingernails were forcibly torn off. The agony shot straight to his heart. Blood mixed with the black mud in a shocking display.

Movements echoed from within the room.

It was the sound of fabric tearing, crisp and piercing.

"Senior Brother Zhao... be gentle... she is a rare furnace..." It was the lackey's voice, carrying a vulgar chuckle.

"Don't worry, your senior brother will love her well." Zhao Tianba's voice was arrogant and excited.

Immediately after came a startled cry from Ye Qingcheng. Her voice carried a trace of resistance from a brief moment of clarity: "No... Ye Xuan... save me..."

This faint cry for help was like a red-hot branding iron, ruthlessly searing Ye Xuan's soul.

He let out a beast-like roar, struggling to get up and rush inside to fight for his life. Even if he had to die, he would die in there!

However, in the next second, the sounds of resistance changed.

Following the eruption of spiritual energy fluctuations inside the room, a powerful Foundation Establishment stage primal yang was injected into her.

Ye Qingcheng's originally pained whimpers gradually transformed into... a suffocating, relieved, and even euphoric moan.

"Ah... so hot... give me... more..."

It was a voice dominated by instinct, the primal reaction of life encountering sweet dew after a severe drought.

But hearing this voice, to Ye Xuan's ears, was ten thousand times more terrifying than the most vicious curse in the world.

He heard the violent shaking of the wooden bed.

He heard the heavy panting and smug teasing of the men.

And even worse, he heard his deeply loved wife, beneath other men, gradually sinking into depravity, her cries growing louder and higher.

Every sound was like a dull knife, slowly cutting and sawing at his blood-soaked heart.

Ye Xuan's body went stiff.

He knelt in the rain, maintaining the posture of wanting to charge in, but he no longer had the strength to move forward even a single inch.

The rain flowed down his hair and into his eyes, bitter and stinging. He could not tell if it was rain or tears.

"Do you hear that, Junior Brother Ye?"

Zhao Tianba's panting voice was transmitted secretly from the room, a whisper that only Ye Xuan could hear: "Her cries right now are a hundred times sweeter than when she was beneath you... Hahaha..."

Ye Xuan bit his jaw dead tight until his mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood.

His fingernails dug deeply into the flesh of his palms. Blood dripped into the puddles and instantly dissolved.

In this moment, all the vows of eternal love and promises of a lifetime together were as fragile as the bubbles in this rain before absolute power, shattering at the slightest touch.

In the Hehuan Sect, there was no morality, only the strong and the weak.

The weak did not even have the right to dignity; even their right to protect their loved ones would be stripped away.

The sounds inside the room lasted for four whole hours.

Ye Xuan knelt in the rain for those four whole hours.

When the wind and rain gradually subsided and a deathly pale light appeared on the horizon, the door opened once again.

Several men walked out, looking refreshed and invigorated. Without even a glance at Ye Xuan, who was lying in the mud like a dead dog, they laughed and strode away.

Through the half-open door, Ye Xuan saw the mess inside the room.

Ye Qingcheng was curled up in a corner, wrapped in a torn bedsheet. Her expression was hollow, and tear stains still hung at the corners of her eyes. However, the fatal red spots of the love poison on her body had faded, and her breathing had become steady.