The violently compressed, hyper-dense Harmonious Five-Grain Qi of the Dao of the Iron Wok, which had been forcefully suppressed for hours, came rushing back into Ji’an’s meridians like a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated kinetic power.

Her muscles hummed, and her blood roared. She felt the terrifying, rhino-crushing strength return to her limbs.

But Ji’an was a master chef; she knew how to control the heat.

She didn’t let a single ounce of that terrifying Qi leak into her external aura.

She kept it entirely, flawlessly suppressed within her internal meridians, maintaining the illusion of a weak, fragile mortal.

She rubbed her reddened wrists, letting out a soft, appreciative moan.

"Oh, thank you, Master," Ji’an whispered, stepping fully into his personal space, resting her hands lightly on his bare chest. She dragged her fingernails slowly down his sternum, feeling his abdominal muscles jump under her touch. "You are so generous. Now... let me show you how grateful I am."

Blood-Hand Tu was completely, hopelessly spellbound.

The heavy aphrodisiac incense, combined with the sheer, unprecedented audacity of the beautiful boy’s touch, had completely shut down his defensive barriers.

"Show me, little bird," Tu purred, his hands resting on her waist, his eyes dark with anticipation.

Ji’an smiled, a sultry, deeply ambiguous curve of her lips.

"Master, please come and sit," Ji’an commanded softly, pointing to the edge of the massive, elevated velvet bed, directly across from where Lin Xuan was chained.

Tu raised an eyebrow at the command, entirely amused by her sudden boldness.

He complied, walking backward and sitting on the edge of the plush mattress, spreading his legs slightly, watching her with hungry eyes.

Ji’an took a slow, deliberate step toward him.

She reached up, her fingers grasping the torn collar of her muddy white outer tunic.

With agonizingly slow, calculated movements, she pulled the fabric off her right shoulder.

She made sure to turn her body slightly, ensuring that the thick, compressive linen binder wrapped securely around her chest remained entirely hidden beneath the angle of her inner tunic.

She let the outer robe slide down her arm, pooling around her waist.

’I am going to need so many baths after this,’ Ji’an’s internal monologue was actively vomiting. ’I need to scrub my skin with bleach. I need to plunge myself into a vat of boiling water to feel clean again.’

But externally, she was a siren.

She stepped between Tu’s spread knees.

She reached out, placing her hands on his shoulders, and slowly, deliberately, swung her leg over his lap.

Ji’an straddled the Golden Core pervert.

She settled her weight onto his thighs, leaning forward, her face inches from his.

The proximity was nauseating. She could smell the metallic tang of blood beneath the heavy incense on his skin.

Tu let out a ragged breath, his hands immediately coming up to grip her hips.

The sheer, overwhelming heat of her Harmonious Five-Grain Constitution, which he interpreted as supreme, boiling Yang essence, was intoxicating.

"You are incredible," Tu whispered, his eyes entirely glazed over with lust. "I am going to drain every last drop of you."

"Not yet, Master," Ji’an scolded softly, playfully tapping his nose with her index finger. "The trick hasn’t even begun."

She reached into the folds of her discarded outer robe, which was bunched around her waist.

From one of the hidden pockets of her gray apron, she pulled out a long, dark red silk ribbon.

She held the ribbon up, dangling it between them.

"Do you trust me, Master?" Ji’an asked, her voice dropping into a husky, teasing whisper. "Some games require... sensory deprivation. It heightens the anticipation."

Tu looked at the silk ribbon.

He looked at the beautiful, completely unarmed boy straddling his lap.

His arrogant, demonic pride assured him there was absolutely no danger. What could this fragile creature possibly do?

"I love games," Tu grinned, leaning forward. "Blindfold me, little bird. Let us see what you can do."

Ji’an smiled.

It was a genuine, terrifyingly bright smile.

She reached around his head, bringing the crimson silk ribbon over his eyes.

She tied it securely at the back of his skull, ensuring it was tight enough that he couldn’t see a single sliver of light.

"Perfect," Ji’an whispered.

She didn’t stop there. She reached out, grabbing his wrists.

"Hands on the bedposts, Master," Ji’an coaxed, her voice sweet as honey. "You must be completely helpless for the trick to work." 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Tu chuckled, indulging the fantasy entirely.

He willingly stretched his arms out, wrapping his hands around the thick, obsidian pillars of the bedframe on either side of his hips.

Ji’an moved with the speed of a striking viper.

She reached into her spatial ring, bypassing the herbs, and pulled out two sets of heavy, high-tensile spirit-steel zip-ties she had purchased from a paranoid merchant in the Black Market.

Zzzt. Zzzt.

In a fraction of a second, before Tu could even register the mechanical sound, Ji’an ruthlessly secured his wrists to the obsidian pillars, pulling the steel ties so tight they cut into his skin.

Tu frowned beneath the blindfold. "My, those are tight, little bird. What kind of trick requires steel bindings?"

Ji’an didn’t answer in a sultry whisper.

The seductive, fragile, trembling young master persona vanished completely, instantly replaced by the terrifying, hyper-violent Head Chef of the Drunken Peak.

Ji’an shifted her weight on his lap, planting her boots firmly on the mattress on either side of his hips to gain maximum leverage.

She reached down the leg of her muddy trousers.

Her fingers closed around the cold, heavy cast-iron grip of her Black Iron Spatula.

She pulled the weapon free, raising it high above her head.

She channeled every single ounce of her compressed, rhino-crushing, Dao of the Iron Wok kinetic energy directly into her right arm.

The air around the spatula actually warped and distorted from the sheer density of the physical force.

"The kind of trick," Ji’an stated, her voice returning to its normal, flat, terrifying baritone, "where the trash gets taken out."