After the Fairy Maidens Fell to Darkness, They Captured Me to Ruthlessly 'Repay' Their Gratitude-Chapter 18 - The Little Pervert

“Sparring with An Luo Yi is a death wish.”

This wasn’t an exaggeration. He Ange was speaking from experience.

Back in the capital, the eldest daughter of the An family, An Luo Yi, was infamous for her terrifying Han Chuan Swordsmanship, which struck fear into anyone within a hundred-mile radius.

She was born with a mutated ice spiritual vein, and by the age of nine, her spiritual energy levels were already comparable to those of sect disciples.

Not only that, but she seemed to have an innate affinity for the sword. Her swordsmanship was masterful even as a child. However, her competitive nature and strict personality made sparring with her a dangerous endeavor.

The problem lay in her overwhelming spiritual energy. As a child, she couldn’t control it well, often unleashing absurd moves like slicing an eight-foot ice canyon with a single strike.

According to renowned physicians in the capital, this wasn’t an illness—it was simply that her body contained too much spiritual energy, and she needed an outlet to release the excess.

The question then became: who would be her “outlet”?

Because her sword’s icy aura had literally frozen people to death, no one in the capital dared to spar with her. Even the sects only accepted disciples aged fourteen and above during their annual selection events.

The An family was at their wit’s end, considering sending nine-year-old An Luo Yi to a sect ahead of schedule.

But then He Ange entered the picture.

At the time, He Ange was only seven years old, a newcomer to the An family. He was just a lowly servant, ignored and scolded by everyone.

To avoid being bullied in this cultivation world, He Ange spent his free time sitting on the steps, quietly watching the eldest daughter practice her swordsmanship.

While she trained, he observed, memorizing her techniques.

At night, when the household was asleep, He Ange would practice alone in the backyard with a wooden stick.

One day, An Luo Yi caught him in the act.

“You’re copying my sword techniques. Do you like swords?”

“If you don’t want the steward to find out, spar with me.”

She handed him a wooden sword and threatened him into a duel.

He Ange didn’t dare refuse.

If the steward found out he had been slacking off to watch the young lady train, he’d be punished—possibly beaten or denied food.

Left with no choice, the seven-year-old boy picked up the wooden sword and faced the silver-haired girl for the first time.

That night, the An family was awakened by the sound of a terrifying ice storm.

When they rushed to the backyard, they found the entire training ground frozen solid. At the center of the icy lotus formation, a bloodied boy had one arm wrapped around the silver-haired girl’s neck in a chokehold, while his other hand held a sword to her throat.

An Luo Yi had lost.

She had never encountered such a fighting style before. It was supposed to be a sword duel, but she had been defeated by some bizarre chokehold technique. Once her neck was locked, even with a sword in hand, she was powerless to counterattack. The girl who had struck fear into countless swordsmen had been subdued.

He Ange thought he was done for.

Though he had won the duel, he had lost the war. With over a hundred guards in the An family estate, he doubted he’d survive the night after daring to choke the eldest daughter.

To his surprise, An Luo Yi publicly defended him.

Not only that, but she took a liking to him.

From that day on, He Ange became her exclusive sparring partner. He no longer had to do the dirty, exhausting chores of a servant. His only job was to dress properly and accompany the young lady to the backyard for sword practice.

Later, he even became her personal attendant. By day, he sparred with her and supervised her lessons in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting at the request of the An family patriarch.

Sometimes, when their training sessions ran late, the young lady would even allow him to sleep in her room…

To this day, whenever An Luo Yi thought of sparring, He Ange was the first person who came to mind.

…

In a secluded mountain clearing, two figures—one silver, one white—clashed repeatedly.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

The silver-haired fairy’s sword flashed, carving elegant arcs through the air as its sharp edge aimed for the white-robed boy’s throat.

Instead of retreating, He Ange stepped forward, sidestepping the blade and countering with an upward diagonal slash aimed at her chest.

At the last moment, An Luo Yi bent backward to dodge, narrowly avoiding injury.

As she stepped back to steady herself, she heard the faint sound of fabric tearing. A cool breeze brushed against her chest, sending a shiver down her spine.

Looking down, she saw that the front of her dress had been sliced open, leaving a small gap through which her pale, firm skin was faintly visible in the dappled forest light.

An Luo Yi quickly covered her chest with her hand.

Biting her lip in frustration, she glared at the white-robed boy standing opposite her, his sword resting casually at his side.

“He Ange, you cut my dress.”

Her voice carried a mix of indignation and embarrassment.

He Ange was too cunning. Throughout the sparring session, An Luo Yi had held the upper hand, her strikes precise and relentless. Concerned that he couldn’t keep up, she had deliberately suppressed her spiritual energy to give him a chance to adapt.

But it turned out he had been playing weak all along!

Now in the Foundation Establishment stage, He Ange’s speed had improved significantly. Taking advantage of her momentary complacency, he had precisely targeted her dress.

“Senior Sister, it was an accident! I swear it was an accident!” He Ange said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, his expression innocent.

But An Luo Yi wasn’t buying it. She knew He Ange too well.

Before joining the Shengxu Sect, he had been obedient and shy, following her around like a little shadow. He did whatever she asked without question.

She knew he liked her.

But back then, he had been too timid to express his feelings, content to admire her sword dance from afar.

Now that he was older, his courage had grown.

He dared to meet her gaze, to tease her with playful remarks, to openly admire her figure—and now, he had even dared to tear her dress!

It seemed that a few days without scolding him had made him forget his place.

“He Ange, were you trying to flirt with me just now?” An Luo Yi asked, her gaze turning icy.

A chill ran down He Ange’s spine. He knew he had messed up.

“Don’t be mad, Senior Sister. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful next time...” he said, his voice trailing off.

“Hmph.”

Seeing his guilty expression, An Luo Yi smirked slightly, her lips curving upward in satisfaction.

She wasn’t truly angry. Her stern demeanor was just a way to keep He Ange in check.

After all, he was still a low-level inner disciple, far from her level. Until he surpassed her in strength, she couldn’t allow him to get too comfortable around her.

She understood He Ange well. The more lenient she was, the more he’d push his luck.

She needed to maintain an air of authority, to ensure he respected her.

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It had been a while since she last asserted her dominance. This was the perfect opportunity to remind him of his place.

“You little pervert.”

“You’ve got the nerve to tease me, but not the guts to admit it?”