Chapter 4
1524 Words
To put it bluntly, that place was no fit for humans.
Lily trudged back to the Pavilion of Solitude, her mood a tangled mess. She kicked pebbles along the snowy path, her boots crunching over the frost, until she reached her room.
This residence housed only two people—her and Xander Lysander. But more often than not, he was nowhere to be seen. Over the years, Lily had grown fully accustomed to solitude, waking each day to the howl of wind and snow, and falling asleep to the same bleak symphony.
Xander had taken her up the mountain, but beyond that, he rarely bothered with her. He was always busy—gods had their own divine duties, though Lily had no idea what his actually were. Probably something grand, like slaying demons and protecting the mortal realm.
Today had been a complete disaster. Not only did she fail in her schemes, but she also ended up worse off than before. Rage simmering in her chest, she stormed through the courtyard and kicked the door open with a sharp bang.
"When the hell will this misery end?" she growled, brushing snow off her robes with clenched teeth.
Her room was as cold and empty as always. By the dim glow of moonlight reflected off the snow, she felt her way toward her bed. But after only a few steps, she suddenly froze.
Was that… someone lying on the floor?
She hastily formed a clumsy fire spell between her fingers, a tiny flame flickering to life at her fingertips. Lighting a nearby candle, the room was instantly bathed in warm amber light.
That’s when she finally saw who it was.
Her lazy, indifferent expression shifted at once. Eyes wide, she gasped, “Master? What are you doing here?”
She rushed closer, only to realize Xander was completely unconscious.
His snow-white robes were soaked with blood, his face pale as paper. His lips were tightly pressed together, as if suppressing intense pain. Beside him lay the Frostbrand Sword, its blade also stained with dried blood, resting silently at his side.
“Master… are you dying?”
Lily knelt down, anxiety flickering across her face. She reached out and checked for his breath, only to let out a disappointed sigh.
He was still alive—barely.
Her gaze lingered on his features. Even in such a sorry state, his ethereal beauty remained unblemished.
She sank to her knees beside him, fingers gently brushing the shallow cut along his cheek. Her manicured nails, pale as jade scallion roots, playfully pressed into the wound. A droplet of blood slowly welled up, trickling down his skin and disappearing into the dark strands of his hair.
She studied the crimson stain on her fingertip, then brought it to her lips, licking it softly.
“Hmm.”
Honestly? Divine blood didn’t taste much different from hers.
Xander was nothing like her. He was a true child of destiny. Born to a noble household in the mortal world, he’d entered the legendary Skyreach Sect at just ten years old. By fifteen, he was already a Core Formation cultivator. By twenty, he reached the Soul Transformation stage—an unprecedented genius in the cultivation world. At thirty-five, he fought the Demon Lord Zephyr Nocturne, sacrificing himself in the battle and ascending as an immortal.
Most cultivators would spend centuries struggling just to form a single golden core. What was a lifetime’s pinnacle for others was merely Xander’s starting point.
And that thought alone made Lily irrationally jealous.
“Master, I was still racking my brain trying to figure out how to ruin your inner balance… and here you are, delivering yourself right to my doorstep.”
Her fingers trailed down to his waist sash. She yanked at the red-threaded jade pendant hanging there, tearing it loose. The jade shattered as it hit the ground, pieces scattering across the floor.
The soft silk of his sash tangled around her fingers.
Years of confinement in the Pavilion meant Lily had never been taught the so-called 'ways of the world.' But once upon a time, before her family’s downfall, she had been the daughter of a wealthy merchant household. Her mother, a formidable businesswoman, had kept many beautiful men as lovers.
From a young age, Lily had watched her mother toy with those men—watched how power could twist affection into something cruel and cold.
But fate had not been kind. Her family's fortune vanished overnight. Her mother died early. Lily had been forced onto the streets, begging outside brothels, crouched in the corners with a chipped bowl in her hands.
She’d witnessed the world’s pleasures from its gutter.
She hadn’t understood any of it back then. But with age came awareness—an ambiguous understanding of what truly transpired between men and women.
And now, with the embodiment of celestial perfection lying helpless before her, that knowledge stirred dangerously within her.
Her gaze drifted downward… and finally stopped.
Even through the thin layer of his underrobe, there were things she absolutely should not be seeing—yet they were fully within view. It was the first time in her life she had ever seen… that part of a man.
Lily’s breath hitched. Her fingers trembled, her pulse thudding in her ears. She bit her lip hard, voice low and shaky. “Xander Lysander… don’t blame me for this.”
She slowly extended her hand toward him, her fingertips just inches away from crossing a boundary she couldn’t return from—when suddenly, her wrist was seized in a vice-like grip.
“Lily. What are you doing?”
His voice was like a blade, sharp and cutting. Xander’s icy eyes swept over the shattered jade and discarded sash on the floor. The grip on her wrist tightened painfully.
“Agh! Ow, ow—stop! That hurts!”
“Speak.”
His face was a mask of frost, brows drawn tight, his black eyes dark and dangerous as they pinned her in place.
“I-I’m sorry, Master! I was wrong, I really was!” Lily cried, completely panicked now. “I had… improper thoughts about you—I was being shameless! Please let me go, my wrist is going to break!”
She was genuinely terrified, her fear spilling over as tears streamed down her cheeks, falling faster the more she spoke.
But Xander didn’t let go. If anything, his expression darkened even further, which only made Lily’s sobs hitch in her throat. She forced herself to stop crying, her wide, red-rimmed eyes locking onto him in frightened innocence.
“M-Master, please don’t be angry anymore. I know I was wrong.”
Something flickered in Xander’s eyes. He took a breath, suppressing the violent fury that was threatening to erupt. Finally, he released her.
Lily immediately cradled her wrist, whimpering through clenched teeth from the pain. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps.
“Where did you run off to today?” Xander asked coldly.
His voice was calm, but the undertone was anything but. He hadn’t expected his timid, obedient disciple to actually flee. And worse, she’d done it while he was locked in a brutal battle with Zephyr Nocturne. The moment she vanished from his senses, he had been distracted—and that moment of hesitation nearly cost him his life.
He had rushed back from the Underworld’s battlefield, bleeding and half-dead, just to find her.
Lily’s lips parted, but no words came. Her gaze darted to the side, and her voice stuttered. “I-I didn’t run away… I just… went down the mountain to play a little…”
Xander glanced at the tear stains on her cheeks, a bitter curl forming at the edge of his mouth.
He had searched the entire Skyreach Sect for her aura. There was nothing. She had hidden it intentionally.
Bloodlines were strange things. He had taken her in at age seven, tried to teach her to read, to follow the path of a true cultivator. But no matter how much effort he put in, he couldn’t erase the poison running in her veins—the legacy left by her parents.
Deceit ran in her blood.
She would do anything to get what she wanted.
And even now, trembling with fear, Lily hadn’t given up. She crept closer to him again, inch by inch.
“Master… do you need help applying medicine?”
Xander’s gaze flickered, but his expression didn’t change. Still, Lily caught it—a faint trace of mockery hidden beneath the surface.
He was battered and bloodied, barely conscious moments ago, and yet… she could feel it in the air. To him, all her tricks were just childish games. Laughable.
Color drained from Lily’s face. Her expression twisted with frustration. The longer she looked at him, the more unbearable his unshakable calm became. She wanted to rip it apart, to tear that frigid mask off his face.
“Xander Lysander,” she whispered, her voice low and cold, “why don’t you take a guess? While you were unconscious… what do you think I did to you?”
Her smile faded, the teasing edge gone.
- Writer
