The heavy iron Null-Stone cuffs around his delicate wrists only served to emphasize his tragic, utter helplessness.

But it was the face that completely ensnared the predator’s attention.

The smudged rouge on the cheeks, the slightly parted, pink lips, and those incredible, wide, silver-flecked eyes that stared back at him with a mixture of fear and... something else.

Something strangely submissive.

Blood-Hand Tu entirely forgot about the struggling thirteen-year-old chained to the bedpost.

"Well," Tu breathed, turning his entire body toward Ji’an, his eyes darkening with a sudden, overwhelming wave of lust. "It seems my sentries have finally learned how to identify true quality. What a spectacular little delicacy you are."

Lin Xuan, still chained to the bed, stopped thrashing. He stared at the newcomer, his jaw dropping in absolute shock.

’Third Brother?!’ Xuan’s mind screamed, instantly recognizing Ji’an. ’What is he doing?! Why is he standing there like that?! Why is his voice so weird?!’

Ji’an didn’t look at Xuan.

She couldn’t afford to break character for a microsecond.

She kept her eyes fixed entirely on Tu, her lashes fluttering as she took a slow, hesitant step into the room.

She let her hips sway, just a fraction of an inch. It was a subtle, incredibly calculated movement designed to draw the eye to the slender line of her waist and the vulnerability of her stance.

"They... they told me to come in here," Ji’an whispered, biting her lower lip, ensuring her voice trembled with the perfect amount of terrified anticipation. "They said you were the Master. They said... If I were good... You wouldn’t hurt me."

Tu’s eyes dilated.

The golden shimmer of his defensive barrier slowly began to fade, entirely forgotten in the face of this unexpected, exquisite submissiveness.

He was used to his captives screaming, crying, and fighting until their spirits were broken.

To have a young, breathtakingly beautiful noble boy walk into his chambers, already yielding, practically offering himself on a silver platter... it was an intoxicating novelty.

"Hurt you?" Tu purred, stepping away from the dais and slowly walking toward Ji’an. "My beautiful, fragile little bird. I have no intention of hurting you. I am going to elevate you."

Ji’an shrank back against the doorframe, bringing her cuffed hands up to her chest in a defensive, yet undeniably inviting posture.

"I am... I am so afraid, Master," Ji’an murmured, using the title with a breathy reverence that made her want to vomit on his face. ’Hold it together, Lin Ji’an. Do it for Xuan. Do it for the fifty million spirit stones.’

She looked up at him through her lashes, letting a single, perfectly timed tear roll down her soot-smudged cheek.

"My sect... they abandoned me," Ji’an spun a tragic, improvised backstory on the fly, her voice thick with fake sorrow. "I am weak. My cultivation is pitiful. I have always been a burden. But you... You are so powerful. I can feel your strength from here. If I must belong to someone... I would rather it be a true master."

Tu stopped inches from her, completely captivated. He reached out, his long, elegant fingers gently brushing the tear from her cheek.

Ji’an forced herself not to flinch. Instead, she leaned into the touch, letting her eyes flutter shut, exhaling a soft, trembling breath against his palm.

’Good. It looks like he didn’t suspect me. He is buying it,’ Ji’an thought, her heart hammering wildly against her chest binder. ’He thinks I am a desperate, pathetic little slut looking for a strong sugar daddy to protect me. The ego on this guy is astronomical.’

"You are wise, little bird," Tu whispered, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "The weak are destined to serve the strong. And you will serve me beautifully. Your Yin and Yang are perfectly balanced. You will be my most prized vessel."

"I want to serve you, Master," Ji’an agreed, opening her eyes, letting a heavy, suffocatingly ambiguous sexual tension flood her gaze. She looked at his lips, then back to his eyes, conveying a deep, desperate hunger.

"But..." Ji’an shifted her weight, deliberately clinking the heavy iron Null-Stone cuffs together.

She looked down at her bound wrists, letting out a frustrated, pouty sigh.

"These cuffs are so heavy," Ji’an complained, her voice shifting from terrified to coy, a sultry, complaining whine that belonged in a high-end brothel. "The iron is bruising my delicate skin. And... how can I possibly serve you properly if my hands are bound?"

She looked back up at him, her dark eyes flashing with a brazen, explicit promise.

"If my hands were free," Ji’an whispered, leaning forward just enough so that the torn collar of her tunic brushed against his bare chest, "I could show you... tricks. Techniques they do not teach in the orthodox sects. I could make you feel things you have never felt before, Master."

Behind them, chained to the bedpost, Lin Xuan let out a strangled, horrified gasp.

’TRICKS?!’ The thirteen-year-old’s brain short-circuited. ’My brother knows TRICKS?! What kind of sect did he run away to?!’

Blood-Hand Tu’s breath caught in his throat. The sheer, brazen temptation of the offer completely short-circuited his paranoid, Golden Core survival instincts.

He looked at the slender, bruised, silk-tunic boy leaning against him.

The boy had no weapons, and his aura, even without the cuffs, was so pitifully weak it barely registered as Foundation Establishment.

What threat could a fragile, desperate little beauty possibly pose to a Golden Core master in his own sanctum?

None.

"Tricks, you say?" Tu smiled, a dark, lustful hunger completely overtaking his rational mind. "How terribly intriguing. It has been decades since a tribute offered to entertain me voluntarily."

Tu raised his hand. His fingers glowed with a sequence of dark, runic keys.

He tapped the center of the heavy iron Null-Stone cuffs binding Ji’an’s wrists.

Click.

The heavy iron locks disengaged. The cuffs fell away, clattering loudly against the volcanic rock floor.

The moment the Null-Stone disconnected from her skin, the dam broke.