"The Azure Crane Pavilion does not break, Martial Uncle," Fairy Xue declared fiercely. She turned to her juniors. "Ming’er! Qing’er! On your feet! We do not waste the Chef’s time!"
The two junior maidens, inspired by their senior sister’s sudden, terrifying motivation, hastily shoved the last of their pancakes into their mouths and scrambled to their feet, bowing deeply.
"Excellent," Ji’an clapped her hands together, the sound sharp like a starting pistol.
She waved her hand, banishing the dining table back into her spatial ring.
In its place, Ji’an summoned three massive, hollowed-out, heavily reinforced petrified-wood stumps that looked like colossal mortars. Inside each mortar was a glowing, incredibly sticky, fifty-pound mound of raw, unrefined Abyssal Spirit-Rice Dough.
Next to the mortars, she dropped three heavy wooden mallets, each possessing a head the size of a watermelon.
"Phase Two," Ji’an announced, pacing around the mortars. "The Dao of the Mochi Pounder! The spider-silk taught you how to compress your Yin into your arms. Now, we teach you how to transfer that kinetic mass from the ground, through your hips, and into a devastating, blunt-force strike."
She pointed to the incredibly sticky dough.
"That dough is infused with localized kinetic-reversal arrays. If you hit it with just your arms, the mallet will bounce back and hit you in the face. You must plant your feet. You must use your core. You must swing with the entire weight of your body, and you must maintain a flawless, unbroken rhythm, or the dough will seize and turn to concrete."
Ji’an picked up one of the heavy mallets with one hand, twirling it effortlessly to demonstrate.
"It’s all in the hips, ladies. You have to drive the force downward. Grab your mallets. Assume a wide stance. Let’s get sticky."
The maidens didn’t hesitate. Fairy Xue grabbed her heavy mallet, her face set in a mask of absolute, unyielding determination.
She planted her feet wide, gripping the wooden handle, her chest heaving as she prepared to strike.
Just outside the perimeter of the Moon-Lotus Botanical Gardens, crouching behind the same patch of toxic, glowing ferns they had been ejected from an hour prior, were the four of the powerful, emotionally unstable male prodigies in the Azure Empire.
Lu Jianheng, Gu Zhiwei, Wen Shiru, and Xie Wangchen had not returned to the Acid-Geysers.
Their paranoia, jealousy, and unhinged harem-panic had completely overridden their fear of Ji’an’s spatula. They had crept back to the gardens, utilizing the newly learned advanced, Nascent Soul-level stealth arrays to mask their presence.
They couldn’t see through the frosted, petrified-glass domes.
But they could hear.
And because they lacked visual context, their heavily repressed, romantically paranoid brains were currently subjected to the single most misunderstood, wildly suggestive audio feed in the history of the cultivation world.
Inside the dome, the maidens had begun to pound the dough.
THWACK.
Squelch!
THWACK.
Squelch!
The heavy, rhythmic, wet sound of the wooden mallets hitting the sticky spirit-dough echoed loudly through the glass. Because the labor was so physically demanding, the maidens were panting heavily, their breath coming in ragged, exhausted, high-pitched gasps.
"Ah! It’s so heavy!" Ming’er whimpered loudly, the sound carrying perfectly into the bushes.
"Don’t stop, Ming’er! Keep a firm grip on the shaft!" Lin Ji’an’s smooth, encouraging, deep baritone voice boomed in response. "If you loosen your grip, it’s going to slip right out of your hands and hit you in the face!"
Outside in the bushes, Lu Jianheng’s aristocratic face turned a shade of red so violently bright it practically glowed in the dark. The Sword Lord slapped both of his hands over his mouth, his eyes bulging out of his skull in absolute, unadulterated, conservative orthodox horror.
’Heavens above!’ Jianheng’s internal monologue shrieked, his soul physically trying to leave his body. ’He is a monster! He is an absolute degenerate! He is instructing them on grip technique?! In a public garden?!’
Inside the dome, the heavy, wet, rhythmic slapping continued.
THWACK.
Squelch!
"Yes! Exactly like that, Xue!" Ji’an cheered enthusiastically, pacing around the mortars, deeply invested in the maiden’s improving hip rotation. "Harder! Drive it deeper into the center! Don’t just tap the surface, you really have to put your back into it! Use your hips! Thrust deeper!"
"I’m trying, Martial Uncle!" Fairy Xue gasped breathlessly, her voice strained with exertion. "It’s getting so sticky! I can barely pull it out!"
"That means you’re doing it perfectly!" Ji’an encouraged warmly. "Look at how beautifully thick it’s getting! Your stamina is incredible, Xue! Don’t stop until it’s perfectly smooth! Give me ten more hard thrusts!"
In the bushes, Gu Zhiwei covered his ears, tears streaming down his face, his golden holy light flickering wildly as his innocent, golden-retriever brain short-circuited entirely.
"Brother Lin has fallen to the demonic path," Zhiwei wept silently, shaking his head. "He is running a dual-cultivation den. My idol is a corrupt playboy. I cannot bear to listen to his debauchery!"
Wen Shiru was sitting on the dirt, his glasses completely fogged over with nervous, horrified sweat. He was frantically running his fingers over his abacus, desperately trying to calculate the political fallout. ’Three maidens simultaneously. The stamina required is astronomical. The Azure Crane Pavilion will demand a massive bridal dowry. The Celestial Sword Sect will be bankrupted by the wedding costs alone. This is a fiscal disaster!’
But the most dangerous reaction was occurring right next to them.
Xie Wangchen was no longer crouching.
The Ice Demon was standing perfectly upright in the toxic ferns.
His pristine white robes were beginning to freeze over with a terrifying layer of black frost. His silver hair floated around his head, defying gravity, buoyed by the continent-shattering yandere killing intent radiating from his core.
His ruby eyes were not just glowing; they were bleeding a trail of dark crimson light into the air.
He didn’t think Ji’an was a degenerate. He didn’t care about orthodox morality.
He only cared about the words: ’Your stamina is incredible, Xue.’
’He is praising her.’
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