Though Fengxian and the Southern Wilderness Demon King were both egging him on, Yue Yang didn’t make his move right away.
Forcing himself on someone. The whole business of turning raw rice into cooked rice.
He wasn’t all that opposed to it, truth be told. By his own selfish reckoning, any girl he’d set his eye on, he didn’t want slipping out of his grasp. That was all well and good as a thought, but in the doing it sometimes took a bit of technique, a bit of patience—brute-force pushing wouldn’t do for everyone; it depended on the target, and on the timing. Take right now, for instance: if the moment Fengxian and the others brought it up he went charging off to lay claim to the Freedom Queen, Yingluo, what would Qianqian and the rest think of him? The good impression he’d built up with such effort would likely be ruined in an instant by so lecherous an act.
Even the ones instigating it—Fengxian and the Southern Wilderness Demon King—wore grins on the surface, but who knew whether they hadn’t already tipped over the vinegar jar inside. A woman’s heart—who could see clearly into it?
Not even Yue Yang, wisdom-seeing Heavenly Eye and all!
“Let me talk it over with Yingluo first…” As a time-crosser, Yue Yang had long since grown used to every manner of jealous display by women in TV and films, and knew how important his conduct was right now. Handle it well, and he’d earn no small number of points in everyone’s hearts. Handle it badly, on the other hand, and Qianqian’s sulking would likely let her put away three whole plates of sweet-and-sour spare ribs single-handed—never mind with so many other girls about.
“Who’re you fooling? Right now you must be feeling awfully pleased with yourself, itching to throw your head back and laugh, aren’t you!” Qianqian huffed, her pouting little mouth now able to hang a whole bottle of soy sauce.
“Tonight I’m going nowhere. I’ll keep tiger-girl company, just her.” Yue Yang made it plain he was a good boy.
“Tch, as if anyone wants that.” Her Highness seemed full of disdain, but even a blind man could see she’d already softened; had she not been deliberately holding a straight little face to maintain the proud-princess dignity before everyone, she’d likely have melted into a gentle little kitten.
Yue Yang spread his arms to embrace her.
Qianqian, none too polite about it, rewarded him with an eye-roll and refused without the slightest hesitation—the meaning being: Who wants a hug from you? Who are you? I don’t even know you!
The time-crosser knew Her Highness’s reserve, but wouldn’t give up. He stood at once and reached to embrace her again; Qianqian still twisted her waist and dodged. But Yue Yang, still doggedly bent on the hug, lunged a third time—and toppled Qianqian, who’d been hiding behind the Sick Beauty, straight to the floor, pinning her beneath him, absolutely determined to gather her into his arms. Qianqian struggled a few times, found the struggling useless, and rewarded him with a few thumps of her powder-soft fists, their force light as cotton. In the end she couldn’t hold him off and let him steal a kiss, her jade face flushing crimson with embarrassment, and she hurried to call to the Sick Beauty for rescue: “This big lecher’s gone mad—quick, save me! Ai-ya, you dare bite me? Detestable fellow, get away from me!”
The proud princess had grown bashful and turned a kiss into a “bite”—and to such “biting,” she was in truth not so very averse.
It was only that with others present, Her Highness, with her especially tender face, was too shy to be too affectionate with him.
Had no one been there—
—if Yue Yang “bit” her, she’d likely have “bitten” him right back.
But with everyone watching, before all those eyes, Qianqian was too shy to trade bites with him, and could only feign anger and drive him off.
Thanks to the warm-hearted help of the beauty Luohua, little Inan, and a few others, Her Highness—fallen into Yue Yang’s wolfish jaws—was soon rescued. Though on the surface she was very angry, in truth her mood was fine; all the sourness, all the discontent had vanished without a trace, and now she was sweet to the point of bursting—she simply had no way to say so out loud.
“Qianqian, come with me. There are some things I’d like to talk over with you. Luohua and Inan, come too!” The Sick Beauty led Qianqian and the others away.
“Your big wife really is the virtuous one!” Fengxian’s little face broke into a smile like a blooming flower.
“What do you mean?” Yue Yang played dumb.
“She saw that your Breeze Queen and Sea Empress were stirred to the depths, unable to hold themselves back, so she led Qianqian and the others off to let you have your grand feast. With a wife like that, what more could a husband ask for?” Fengxian was referring, of course, to the Southern Wilderness Demon King, Hailan, and Bi Lv, who—owing to their diligent cultivation lately clashing with the timing—had had fewer moments of intimacy with Yue Yang. Had the conversation not turned to the matter of pushing someone down, they’d not have made the association at all; but now that it was raised, they all flushed and grew hot, their misty, mellow-wine-like beautiful eyes turning as one toward Yue Yang.
“What do you all want? Don’t tell me you mean to fight me in relays?” Yue Yang wore the look of a handsome fellow who’d run into a pack of she-wolves, all timid meekness.
“One-on-one!” The Southern Wilderness Demon King was so tickled by him that she laughed till her body went soft, tumbling straight into his arms.
“Whew—good. One-on-one I’m not afraid of!” Yue Yang deliberately wiped away a nonexistent great drop of sweat from his brow.
“We fight you—one-on-one—all of us…” Hailan glanced out the door: Yue Yu, Yue Bing, and the rest were gone, the Sick Beauty and Qianqian had walked off—and she instantly shut the door, all but like a landlord dropping the gate and loosing the dogs on his hired laborers.
“I protest—this isn’t one-on-one, this is a gang-beating!” The time-crosser lodged his solemn protest and denunciation, while Fengxian offered her deep sympathy and condolences to him, sinking as he was into a sea of softness. At any rate, a gang-beating like this was hardly the first time; after countless rehearsals, Hailan, Bi Lv, and the others—well-practiced in the drowning-and-slaying art of the softness-sea—paid no mind to the time-crosser’s feelings and unleashed their killing move.
“Master, I’ll help you!” This was the adorable little handmaiden whose chest-borne weapons were of the fiercest might; she always stood on her master’s side.
“Deal with this brat—don’t let him get too smug!” This was the former goddess integrated as one with the little handmaiden, a grandmaster-grandmaster-supreme-grandmaster at aiding a tyrant’s cruelty; wielding spear and staff and such was her favorite pastime, and she was besides a fierce girl with combat power maxed to the MAX—when she took the field, it was the absolute beginning of Yue Yang’s timid meekness.
One night of fierce battle, and the time-crosser—where the divine spear pointed, all before it swept away—finally, with no little difficulty, secured the final victory.
As the victor, Yue Yang’s spirits were rather good.
But owing to a bit too little sleep, while eating breakfast with Young Lord Mingzhu, he carelessly let slip two yawns.
Mingzhu had been suspicious of him from the start, and seeing him yawn one after another, finally couldn’t hold back. Noting that the honored Principal and the other instructors were all absent from his side, he instantly glared, slammed the table and shot to his feet, seized Yue Yang by the collar, and demanded, “Speak—where did you go carousing last night?” This bellow rolled like thunder through the ninth heaven, its menace so great that Chimu—the Dusk Young Lord, busy stuffing his face nearby—was scared out of his wits, his steamed bun dropping to the floor as he dove head-first under the table, trembling all over, for all the world like an adulterer caught in the act.
Yue Yang, for his part, was very composed, a smile still hanging on his face.
The more he smiled, the angrier Mingzhu grew.
Without waiting for Yue Yang to explain, Mingzhu brought his nose close and gave a couple of light sniffs at Yue Yang’s body, then instantly glared at the time-crosser, fury blazing to the heavens: “At least two women’s scents—you actually dared go sneaking out to feast last night? And you didn’t even wipe your mouth after your stolen meal?”
Chimu’s teeth were chattering with fright; he nearly wet his pants.
Yue Yang, calm as an egg by contrast, did not deny it—indeed, he straight-up admitted it: “Your nose really is sharp. Last night’s battle did top two girls.”
Seeing him admit it, Mingzhu instantly conjured the golden hammer, ready to send this brat off to the Western Paradise.
Little did anyone expect Yue Yang to add, “I know—me hogging the meal all to myself last night wasn’t right. I owe you an apology. Had I known you had needs in this department too, I swear I’d have brought you along, for a joint battle across the beds, to see who came out on top. What are we to each other, eh? Bros closer than iron—could I possibly keep a good thing from you? Actually, last night I hesitated a good long while… One man against several girls, I was a bit spread thin. If you’d helped, nothing could’ve been better.”
Mingzhu was stunned into stillness. He waggled the golden hammer a few times, but in the end didn’t bring it down.
Yue Yang struck while the iron was hot, throwing an arm around Mingzhu’s shoulder. “How about tonight, we go for another round? I promise you’ll be thrilled out of your mind. We’re bros—a life of sexual bliss is of course to be shared together.”
Bros?
Thrilled out of your mind?
Mingzhu wished he could take that golden hammer and pound this brat’s head into a smashed watermelon. Yet out of some mindset he couldn’t name, Mingzhu suddenly wasn’t angry anymore—instead of raging, he laughed, showing a warm, spring-breeze smile that put one at ease: “You fool—as if I’m jealous of your amorous fortune. I’m only worried about your body. You know it too: you’ve still got matches these next few days. If women drain your body dry, how are you supposed to compete? That won’t do!”
Yue Yang was deeply moved. “You’re so good to me—caring about me like this! No, tonight it’s my treat: two girls each, one on each arm!”
Hearing there was a treat tonight, and two girls each at that, Chimu instantly scrambled out from under the table. “Big bro, count me in—”
Before he could finish—
“Go die!” The pitiable Chimu had already been sent flying to the ninth heaven by a skyward kick from Mingzhu.
“So are we still going tonight or not?” Yue Yang sought Mingzhu’s opinion.
“Tonight you’ll rest properly in the dormitory. I’ll supervise you—don’t even think of slipping out in the dead of night!” Mingzhu went up in flames. Having finished his outburst, he felt the tone ought to be softened, so he pressed the anger back down and put on a smile. “This is all for the sake of your body too. For all we know the enemy’s preparing to use some beauty trap—at this crucial juncture of taking the crown, a moment’s carelessness won’t do. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“The beauty trap is my favorite.” Yue Yang, off his guard, let his true wish slip.
“Say that one more time and see what happens.” Mingzhu was preparing to lay hands on him, to rid the people of a scourge.
“I said—a beauty trap and such, I absolutely won’t fall for. An upright gentleman as proper as I am has always sneered at contemptible, shameless beauty traps, and loathed them to the very bone!” Yue Yang thumped his chest and declared that his idol was Liuxia Hui, who sat unmoved with a beauty in his lap.
“Is that so? I believe you!” Mingzhu said he believed it, but his face wore the disdain of I believe you about as far as I can throw a ghost.
Mingzhu had already reached a decision in his heart.
The decision to keep his eye fixed on this brat.
Day or night, he mustn’t get a single chance to escape Mingzhu’s field of view.
Especially at night—not even a female cockroach crawling in through a crack in the door would be permitted to approach him; otherwise, kill without mercy…
Because Mingzhu’s murderous aura ran so heavy, Chimu—a shoe-print still on his face—dared not come within five hundred meters of the two of them, and ran off far to the other side to mix in with Hauge and the rest. As for Yue Yang, under Mingzhu’s prisoner-escort-style accompaniment, he headed for the North Peak’s ice-and-snow arena. His opponent happened to be Yangping, who’d been waiting on the field since early, unable to wait a moment longer to slaughter Yue Yang a hundred times over.
“Garbage—I guarantee you’ll die an ugly death!” Yangping was already fantasizing about how he’d butcher this pretty-boy Titan, inventor of that piece-of-crap sacred-grade quill pen, when the time came.
“Ha, is that so? On the contrary, I think you’ll die spectacularly…” Yue Yang couldn’t help letting slip another yawn—and this wasn’t from lack of sleep; it was purely that his opponent was simply too weak to rouse his spirits!
(End of Chapter)