Chapter 4: No Matter How You Look at It, Something’s Wrong

Confusion. Something’s off. Definitely a problem.
That was Chu Huaizhou’s first thought as Leng Qingqiu pounced on him, binding him with icy chains.

If she’d just rushed into his arms, speaking softly about being his dao companion, he might’ve hesitated and believed her.
When he took his disciples, their ten-year age gap made him see them as children.
He had no romantic feelings or interest in taboo master-disciple relationships.

But with over three hundred years of lost memories, during which he reached Tribulation Crossing and faced 100 heavenly tribulations, it wasn’t impossible that he’d fallen for a beautiful disciple and become dao companions.

Still, he couldn’t accept it so easily.
Influenced by modern values from his past life, Chu Huaizhou was conservative.
Maybe not “no intimacy before marriage,” but at least not jumping into things without clarity.

Especially now, feeling the bone-chilling cold from the chains on his wrists and ankles.
He was pretty sure he wasn’t into this kind of thing.

If Leng Qingqiu had done such scandalous things to him before, his body’s muscle memory wouldn’t feel so repulsed.
Memories might fade, but physical instincts don’t.

Maybe her excitement after a month without alone time could explain it.
No—now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. If he didn’t act, he was done for.

Chu Huaizhou stared into Leng Qingqiu’s increasingly misty eyes, unsure if it was excitement, the thrill of finally getting what she’d long desired, or both.
The warmth beneath her cold exterior from before he revealed his amnesia was gone.
It was as if all restraint and pretense shattered when he admitted his memory loss, like a dam breaking.

What replaced it was raw greed, desire, and ecstasy, so intense it nearly spilled over.
Chu Huaizhou didn’t know why he could read her emotions so clearly—perhaps because she didn’t bother hiding them.
Her desires were laid bare in her eyes, like a starving wolf eyeing fresh meat, ready to devour him whole.

He subtly struggled against the chains, but they didn’t budge—his movements only tightened them.
Leng Qingqiu, in his arms, had shed her outer white gauze, revealing trembling, snow-white shoulders.
Her soft hands roamed, her fingertips sparking tingling sensations, forcing him to squirm to avoid them.

His squirming, like a half-hearted refusal, only made her eyes gleam, fueling her enthusiasm.
If this were an anime, Leng Qingqiu would be surrounded by pink hearts and bubbles.

Damn it, how did it come to this?
Huaizhou, what the hell did you do in those three hundred years to turn the cold, distant Leng Qingqiu into this?

Cursing his pre-amnesia self, Chu Huaizhou’s mind raced to protect his virtue.
He had to stop this now!

“Disciple, Qingqiu! We can’t… this is wrong!”

“Hmm~ Huaizhou, what’s wrong? Not used to it? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it soon.”
“Soon, I’ll show you just how perfect we are together~”

He was starting to suspect his pre-amnesia self, noticing Qingqiu’s growing strangeness, made himself lose his memory to escape.
He hoped his sweet second disciple and pure-as-a-blank-page third disciple were still themselves… maybe just a bit clingier…

Wait!
An idea hit him.
The old Leng Qingqiu was obsessed with cleanliness.
She wouldn’t tolerate a speck of dirt, frowning at even a bit of dust.
Her robes were always spotless, her hair impeccable, like a perfectly carved ice sculpture, almost unreal.

He recalled treating her wounds after she secretly took sect missions.
When he tried to pat her head, she swatted his hand away, glaring coldly and saying:
“Don’t touch me. Dirty.”

His hands were clean then, not a trace of blood.
But now?
According to Bai Li, he’d been unconscious for over a month.
There must be sweat, medicinal scents, maybe even a hint of blood on him…

Sure, Golden Core cultivators typically repelled worldly dust, but what if the tribulation disrupted that?
In this dire moment, Chu Huaizhou couldn’t overthink—he had to try every trick.

“Don’t touch me. I’m dirty.”

Even as a transmigrator, he cringed saying it.
His voice trembled from Leng Qingqiu’s nibbling and rubbing, sounding less like rejection and more like coy flirting, adding an unintended ambiguity.

But it seemed to work.
Leng Qingqiu froze, then stopped moving and biting.
Did he… bet right?
He hadn’t been confident, just grasping at straws, but it worked?

After a brief pause, Leng Qingqiu reluctantly withdrew her hands.
She undid her braid, tying it into a sleek high ponytail with a white ribbon embroidered with blue snowflakes.
Sitting up, her hazy eyes cleared, and she gazed at him silently, her face flushed.

The room was quiet, save for their breathing.
“That’s better. Let’s sit down and talk properly.”
“If there’s something you want to tell me, I’ll listen patiently. We can take it slow, no rush.”

Relieved, thinking he’d stabilized her, Chu Huaizhou was about to add more when a smile crept across her refined, icy face.
Her lips parted, and her words chilled him.
“Huaizhou, I just thought the braid was in the way. You didn’t think I’d mind you being dirty, did you?”

Chu Huaizhou: Oh no, I’m done for!

Just then, as Leng Qingqiu moved to act, her body stiffened, her brows furrowing.
What? Someone breached her arrays?

She’d set up multiple layers, and they failed to stop an intruder?
Expanding her divine sense, she spotted Bai Li approaching Heavenly Sword Peak.

That damned vixen.
Both at Great Vehicle stage, they were evenly matched, but Bai Li’s Nine-Tailed Heavenly Fox bloodline gave her charm-breaking powers, seeing through illusions and mazes.
Bai Li alone was manageable—her bloodline gave her strength, but she was naive and easily fooled with any excuse.
The problem was the others.

Leng Qingqiu’s divine sense locked onto two figures behind Bai Li.
One of her junior sisters had come…