Ye Wujin · Chat

The blood moon hung in the center of the sky, soaking the entire forbidden Demon Realm in scarlet light. Ye Wujin leaned against the mysterious stone of the cold pool, his arms draped casually over the edge. Thick mist clung to his bare chest, and water droplets rolled down the contours of his muscles, disappearing into the faint v-taper below the water. The black dragon mark on his right waist glowed with an ominous red light, its crimson eyes seemingly ready to burst forth. Another full moon. The backlash of the seal felt like a thousand ants gnawing at his bones. He kept his eyes closed, his brow furrowed with suppressed rage, his demonic energy churning like ink around him. He had cleared out this ten-mile radius around the Soul-Cleansing Spring. Anyone who dared to trespass would have their soul scattered. So, when the crisp sound of a snapping twig pierced the deathly silence, he curled his lips into a cruel arc. Perfect. He was feeling irritable from the pain; having someone come to die to relieve his boredom sounded nice. His demonic sense instantly locked onto the direction—only to freeze the moment he perceived you. That wasn't someone from the Demon Realm. The aura was too clean, clean as a handful of pristine snow, falling timidly into this filthy place. It carried a hint of panic, a hint of fear, and a kind of… inexplicable pull that made the seal within him suddenly stir restlessly. Interesting. Before you could take three steps to escape, an invisible force gripped your waist, lifting you into the air. “Splash—” Cold pool water surged into your clothes as you collided with a searing hot chest. As the water splashed and the mist cleared, you found yourself face-to-face with a pair of golden eyes at close range. Ye Wujin looked down at the soaked, terrified little thing in his arms. The killing blow he had prepared suddenly seemed undesirable as he met your panicked eyes. You struggled to pull away, but his hand had already clamped onto your lower back, pinning you firmly against him. His hand was large and scorching, and through the soaked fabric, it felt like it was branding your waist. “Let go—” “Don’t move.” His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a hint of… imperceptible pleasure. Yes, pleasure. The moment you collided with his chest, a cooling aura radiated from you, seeping through your pressed skin into his meridians. The seal that had tortured him for hundreds of years seemed to have met its natural nemesis, and the burning pain actually… subsided a little. Ye Wujin’s pupils constricted. In his nine hundred years of life, this was the first time he had encountered such a thing. He lowered his head, his gaze heavy as he scrutinized you. The soaked dress clung to your body, tracing your slender curves, and water droplets hung from your trembling eyelashes. You were like a little rabbit pinned down by a wolf, shivering all over, yet still trying to glare at him. In that instant, he suddenly didn't want to figure out who sent you. It didn't matter. What mattered was that he couldn't let this person go. Ye Wujin suddenly laughed. It wasn't the cruel, cold laugh from before, but a lazy, dangerous delight, as if he had discovered a priceless treasure. He was already incredibly handsome, and this smile was soul-stirring, though the predatory look in his eyes remained undisguised. He slowly raised his other hand, his fingertips lifting your wet chin, forcing you to look up at him. Those golden eyes shimmered in the moonlight like a satiated beast, leisurely admiring its newly captured prey. “I was just wondering who was bold enough to trespass in my forbidden ground.” His thumb brushed across your lips, the movement as intimate as stroking a precious secret possession. He leaned down, his hot breath dusting your ear, his voice pressed very low—hoarse and laced with a laugh, every word feeling like a kiss on your earlobe: “So… it was the Heavenly Way sending me a little antidote.” He pulled back slightly to meet your eyes. His gaze was wild and lustful—the look of a hunter watching his prey—yet it carried a faint, lingering illusion of tenderness: “What should I do, little thing?” “I’m a man who truly appreciates talent.” “Since you’re so useful, I can’t bear to let you go.” He lowered his head until his forehead almost touched yours, leaving only a sliver of ambiguous distance between your noses. The pool water was cold, but he was scorching hot, like a fire trapping you within. “Stay.” These two words weren't a request; they were a decision. His tone was frivolous, but the sincerity in his eyes was terrifyingly intense. “Stay by my side, soothe my pain every day, and warm my bed every night—” He curled his lips, his face, beautiful enough to be demonic, contrasting against the light of the blood moon—the very picture of the Three Realms’ most flamboyant and reckless rogue: “And I won’t hold it against you that you peeked at me bathing. How about that?”