Chapter 667- Sun Wuji’s Masterful Plan
The crowd erupted. Disciples shouted his name. Fists pumped. The heavy man bowed — deep, respectful, acknowledging defeat. Lin Feng returned the bow.
He descended from the platform. His dark eyes were calm, composed, the eyes of a man who knew his worth. His lean body moved through the crowd, the disciples parting before him, their faces carrying the mixture of admiration and envy that followed every talented young cultivator.
He saw Jin Yuhan.
His dark eyes found her at the edge of the crowd. She stood out — her layered silk robes, her jade pin, her porcelain skin, her obsidian hair. She was the sect leader’s daughter. The Jade Pearl. She didn’t belong in the inner court, among the training disciples.
But she was there. And her eyes were wet.
Lin Feng’s composed expression cracked. His dark eyes widened. His handsome face went pale. He reached her in three strides. He bowed — the formal bow of a disciple to a superior.
"Greetings, Princess," he said. His voice was steady, but his hands were trembling. "Is something —"
He saw the tears. The wet lashes. The trembling lips. The rigid, composed body that was fighting to maintain its poise.
"What happened?" His voice dropped. Low. Urgent. The formal tone of a disciple dissolved, replaced by the raw concern of a man who loved the woman before him.
Jin Yuhan reached out. Her small, slender hand — the fingers pale, the nails jade-lacquered — gripped his wrist. Her touch was warm. Desperate. The composure cracked further.
"Come with me," she whispered. Her refined voice was barely audible. "Now. Please."
She pulled. Her grip tightened on his wrist. She walked — not toward the garden, not toward the training ground, not toward the sect leader’s study. She walked toward her private chambers. The innermost quarters of the Azure Cloud Sect’s princess. A place no male disciple had ever been permitted.
The crowd noticed. Heads turned. Whispers started.
"The princess — she’s taking Lin Feng —"
"To her chambers? That’s —"
"Has she lost her mind? The sect leader —"
A maid — an older woman with a weathered face and sharp eyes — intercepted them at the chamber door. "Princess — what are you doing? Why are you taking a disciple into your —"
Jin Yuhan turned. Her dark eyes — wet, red-rimmed, but carrying the absolute authority of the sect leader’s daughter — met the maid’s.
"You will be silent," she said. Her refined voice was quiet but carried the weight of command. "You will forget what you saw. You will tell no one. Is that understood?"
The maid’s mouth opened. Closed. She bowed. "Yes, Princess."
Jin Yuhan pushed open the door. She pulled Lin Feng inside. The door closed behind them.
The chamber was beautiful. Silk hangings on the walls, a jade-inlaid writing desk, a wooden bed frame with cloud-pattern carvings, a small altar with a meditation cushion. The scent of jasmine and spirit-plum blossoms hung in the air. The windows were covered with gauze curtains, the mountain light filtering through in soft, diffused patterns.
Lin Feng stood just inside the door. His dark eyes were wide. His handsome face was flushed. His Core Formation qi was circulating rapidly, his spiritual sense extending through the room, searching for threats, for dangers, for whatever had made the princess cry.
"Yuhan — what — what is happening? Why are we —"
She released his wrist. She stepped back. Her slender body was trembling — the layered silk robes shaking, the jade pendant at her waist swaying. Her porcelain face was wet. Her full lips were trembling.
She reached for her sash.
Her slender fingers found the knot. She pulled. The sash fell. Her layered robes loosened — the silk shifting, the fabric opening at her chest. Her collarbone was revealed — pale, delicate, the skin smooth.
Lin Feng’s dark eyes went wide. His hand shot out. He grabbed her wrist — gently, carefully, the grip of a man stopping something he didn’t understand.
"What are you doing?" His voice was tight. Controlled. The voice of a man fighting panic. "Yuhan — calm yourself — what is —"
"Please, Lin Feng." Her voice broke. The refined composure shattered. The tears came — hard, fast, the sobs tearing from her throat. "Please — take me. Now. Before I become someone else’s."
Lin Feng’s handsome face went blank. His dark eyes — the eyes that had been filled with concern, with love, with fear — went flat. For a single heartbeat, something else surfaced in those eyes. Something cold. Calculating. The expression of a man who had just received information he needed to process.
Then the concern returned. The love. The warmth. The mask.
"What?" he said. His voice was incredulous. "Take you? Yuhan, what are you — who would take you away from me?"
She looked at him. Her dark eyes — wet, desperate, the eyes of a woman surrendering her last hope — met his.
"There is an ancestor," she whispered. "He roams the eastern valleys. He finds women. He — he joins with them. And they become cultivators. Core Formation. Instantly."
Lin Feng’s grip on her wrist tightened. His dark eyes widened. His jaw clenched.
"My father is going to find him," Yuhan continued, her voice cracking. "He is going to offer me. An engagement. The Jade Pearl of the Azure Cloud Sect, given to this ancestor in exchange for alliance."
Lin Feng’s face went white. Then red. Then a dark, dangerous color that Jin Yuhan had never seen before.
His voice came out low. Dangerous. The voice of a man who had just been told that the most precious thing in his world was about to be taken from him.
"No one can take you away from me," he said. "I will kill him. I will kill that bastard. I will tear him apart with my hands."
His words were rough. Unpolished. The careful, composed tone of the inner disciple was gone, replaced by the raw, possessive fury of a man whose woman was being threatened.
Yuhan’s eyes widened. She pulled her wrist from his grip. Her slender hands covered her mouth.
"Lin Feng," she whispered. "Why are you using such — such language? You are a disciple of the Azure Cloud Sect. You should not speak of killing, of —"
"You don’t have to worry," he said. His voice softened. The mask slipped back into place — the warm, concerned, protective lover. "Until I am here, no one can touch you. Do you understand? No one."
She stared at him. Her dark eyes searched his face — his handsome features, his dark eyes, his sharp jawline. She saw the warmth. The love. The promise.
She collapsed against him. Her slender body pressed against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist, her face buried in his shoulder. The tears soaked through his blue robe.
"Please take me," she sobbed. "Please. I do not want to lose my maidenhood to someone else. Not to this ancestor. Not to a stranger. Only to you, Lin Feng. Only to you."
He held her. His arms wrapped around her slender body, his hands on her back, his chin resting on her black hair. His dark eyes — looking over her head, past the silk hangings, past the chamber walls — were not the eyes of a man in love.
They were the eyes of a predator.
’I see. So the old man wants to sell this woman to that ancestor. To the one from the upper realm.’
’Interesting.’