Chapter 23: Li Yao desire[R-18]
The moon hung high above the sect grounds, shrouded behind thin wisps of drifting cloud, casting a silvery glow upon the rooftops of the disciple quarters. A cool breeze whispered across the tiles, rustling leaves and carrying with it the faint scent of blooming night orchids. The sect was silent at this hour, save for the distant echo of night watch disciples patrolling the outer walls, their steps muffled by the mist that crept across the mountain paths.
On one of the rooftops, a slender figure crouched in the shadows. It was Li Yao. Her eyes were sharp beneath the veil covering her face, her breath calm yet deliberate. She had just received word from her master—a quiet, cold voice transmitted directly to her spiritual sea. The voice brought her hesitation to a halt.
Hearing the voice, Li Yao gave a subtle nod. A moment of uncertainty flickered in her eyes but was quickly buried beneath a growing determination. Her master’s words bolstered her confidence, restoring the resolve she had nearly lost.
Silently, she shifted her body and moved across the sloped tiles, reaching a specific location just above a secluded room. The room belonged to Meng Hao.
She knelt down and carefully slid aside a loose wooden plank nestled among the tiles. Beneath it was a small, concealed glass pane, meant to let in natural light—but now it served a different purpose. Reaching into her robes, Li Yao produced a small, sealed glass vial. The liquid inside shimmered faintly under the moonlight, its surface swirling unnaturally as though alive.
With great caution, she unsealed the vial. The moment the cork came off, the liquid reacted with the open air, instantly beginning to vaporize. Thin streams of near-invisible mist rose like curling smoke, dancing in the moonlight before drifting downward through the gap in the glass.
Li Yao tilted the vial, allowing the remaining liquid to trickle out completely. The last few drops vanished into vapor, slipping silently into the room below.
She watched with narrowed eyes for a moment, ensuring everything had gone as planned. Once satisfied, she replaced the wooden plank, sealing the hidden opening as if nothing had ever been touched. Then, without a sound, she retreated into the shadows, disappearing once more into the night.
Below, inside the quiet room, Meng Hao sat cross-legged in the center of a simple cultivation chamber. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was even. His qi circulated calmly within his body, following the meridians as he cultivated silently under the pale moonlight filtering through the wooden lattice window.
The room itself was sparse—a single bed, a table with a jade lamp, a meditation mat, and a few scrolls neatly arranged to one side. A faint incense lingered in the air, leftover from a recent meditation.