Chapter 115: The One I Dreamed of Was Never You

Ever since that morning, Meng Yingxing had been avoiding Xiu Qingcheng.

But no matter where he went, she followed. He ran; she chased right behind.

While sprinting, Meng Yingxing suddenly stopped and spun around. Xiu Qingcheng, unable to stop in time, crashed straight into his arms.

Thanks to the height difference, it was more accurate to say Meng Yingxing was enveloped in her embrace.

The faint floral fragrance from her body flooded his senses nostrils, making him instinctively step back.

No matter how hard he tried to stay calm, last night’s dream and this morning’s conversation kept churning in his heart, refusing to settle.

He just wanted a moment alone. Otherwise, the second she appeared, his brain would spiral into uncontrollable, dangerous thoughts.

He was terrified that dream would ruin the way he faced his master.

Eating with her—he’d remember how she was in the dream. Cultivating—he’d picture her the same way.

Now, every time he saw her, an inexplicable throb stirred in his chest.

He dimly realized that if he let this feeling for her keep growing, it would tear open an abyss of desire inside him—one he could never fill.

Mortals were driven by desire, yes. But to drown in it completely… there would be no coming back.

So… he needed quiet.

“Master… could you please stop following me for a while?”

Xiu Qingcheng stared at the clear helplessness on his face.

The sky was perfectly clear, yet she felt as if thunder had just exploded in her ears.

“What?! The disciple who’s practically glued to his master suddenly doesn’t want me around?!”

Did this mean… her disciple was growing up and entering his rebellious phase?!

Her mind instantly spun a dramatic tragedy.

Her once-obedient disciple would start opposing her at every turn! Tell him east—he’d go west! Tell him to cultivate—he’d go carousing and neglect his duties! Tell him to behave—he’d cause trouble everywhere!

She could already see their home destroyed, everyone gone, leaving only an empty-nest sword weeping inside its scabbard!

No way! Absolutely not!

She didn’t know if this was actually a rebellious phase or how she’d even handle it if it was.

Perhaps… a maturing disciple really did need some personal space?

Ever since they’d met, she’d been by his side constantly.

Xiu Qingcheng opened her mouth, but for once the glib-tongued, silver-tongued sword spirit found herself at a loss for words.

After a long silence, she stared straight into his eyes and said dryly,

“…Fine. Come back soon.”

“If you go too far, I can’t move.”

Because… if he went beyond her range, she’d turn back into a lifeless sword trapped in its sheath.

She hated that existence.

And it was boring without her entertaining disciple.

She’d once thought human form had no distance limit, only later realizing the range was merely larger—not unlimited.

Meng Yingxing froze. It was the first time he’d seen his master look so lost and helpless.

Had he been too harsh?

He’d only politely asked her to stop following for a bit.

He knew how much she hated the Divine Armory Pavilion—there she couldn’t move at all. It was a living death for her.

His master had things she disliked, even feared.

She was so strong that he sometimes forgot her vulnerabilities.

But right now, her expression made it clear: she wasn’t the fearless, invincible sword her techniques suggested. She needed him far more than he’d realized.

Only he, Meng Yingxing, could give her true freedom. Only he, and no one else.

Seeing the unease on her face—the fear of once again becoming a prisoner—something in Meng Yingxing softened.

He suddenly smiled.

“Never mind, Master. On second thought… I think it’s safer if you stay with me.”

At those words, the lost look on Xiu Qingcheng’s face vanished as if it had never existed.

Curiosity instantly replaced it.

“So… who exactly did you dream about last night?”

Having confirmed this wasn’t a rebellious phase, she returned to her original mission with great enthusiasm.

Meng Yingxing: “…”

Was it too late to throw the Ting Tian Sword back in the room?

In the end, she couldn’t pry a single detail out of him. Xiu Qingcheng declared herself deeply aggrieved.

To vent her frustration, she turned back into sword form, made herself much heavier, and forced Meng Yingxing to carry her on his back.

“It’s temporary muscle training!”

Meng Yingxing could only trudge back to the inn under the weight.

The moment he pushed open the door, a sweet, cloying fragrance slammed into them both.

“What the—? Disciple, someone’s in the room!”

Xiu Qingcheng shouted from his back.

At her warning, Meng Yingxing drew the Ting Tian Sword and cautiously stepped inside.

The instant he crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him.

Heart jolting, he whipped around, then turned forward again—and saw a familiar figure lounging on the very same chaise they’d used that morning.

“Well, well, if it isn’t South Feixue.”

Xiu Qingcheng recognized the intruder first, her tone dripping with mockery.

What she really wanted to say was: “Aren’t you the leading lady from my disciple’s wet dream last night?”

But out of consideration for his feelings, she held her tongue.

Meng Yingxing frowned in displeasure at the seductive woman lounging with her legs crossed.

Why was this woman here again?

“Hi, little brother Meng~ I told you yesterday we’d meet again.”

Nan Feixue ran her bright red tongue over her fingertip and smiled lazily.

“Your big sister missed you so much I couldn’t sleep a wink.”

The way she said it was dripping with innuendo.

Her sultry gaze raked over him—she’d already decided he was hers.

She was confident. Today she would claim this delicious young hero.

The breath she’d blown into him yesterday wasn’t just an aphrodisiac dream-inducer; it would also make the victim obsess over whoever appeared in the dream.

A Meng Yingxing in that state would come running with a single crook of her finger.

She would reclaim all the face she’d lost yesterday!

This was the secret art of their Desire Extremity Sect!

Nan Feixue rose with a sway of her hips, slowly closing in, voice low and bewitching.

“Young Hero Meng… did you dream of me last night?”

Her tone was pure seduction.

At those words, something flashed through Meng Yingxing’s mind.

She pressed closer, her soft, boneless hand reaching out as if to take credit.

“Was I… satisfying in the dream? Did it feel good?”

With that one sentence, both Xiu Qingcheng and Meng Yingxing understood everything.

They now knew exactly why he’d had that dream last night.

“Disciple, you really did dream of Nan Feixue!”

Xiu Qingcheng yelled.

Unlike her excitement, Meng Yingxing’s face turned ice-cold.

So the dream about his master—every bit of it—had been caused by this witch’s interference!

Nan Feixue’s hand slid onto his chest, fingers tracing teasing circles.

“Tell big sister… how did I taste? Want to try the real thing and dual-cultivate for real?”

Meng Yingxing’s expression didn’t change. Under her shocked gaze, he swung the Ting Tian Sword, forcing her back in a single cold slash.

He didn’t know how Sister Nan tasted.

But his master’s taste… was exquisite beyond words.

Yet—disrespect toward his master was a sin.

And the greater sinner stood right in front of him.

“Sorry to disappoint you. I didn’t dream of you last night.”

His next words sounded almost like an afterthought, as if trying to cover something up.

“…I didn’t dream of anyone.”