Chapter 67: Special Training for Jingliu, Fuxi's Gaze at Fu Hua Could Almost Form Threads

Jingliu's appearance here was a delightful surprise.

Since we're talking about Jingliu, of course, we can't avoid mentioning the Mara-Struck state.

Ye Feng transformed into Jingliu's "Mara-Struck self."

Blackened arms roamed up and down, testing Jingliu's willpower.

The peerless swordswoman's cheeks flushed, her delicate waist—so slender it seemed one could wrap a hand around it—shivered as her armor slipped away.

Beads of sweat glistened on her fair skin, now tinged with a faint pink hue, making her look indescribably alluring and seductive.

Ye Feng turned Jingliu around, her back now facing him.

Her elegant and serene figure bent over the desk, her ice-blue hair cascading loosely down her back.

Rip.

A crisp sound rang out. Ye Feng accidentally tore the fabric of her clothing.

The fragrant garment fluttered down, revealing Jingliu's snow-white back, smooth and radiant like polished jade.

Beneath her hair, her bare back was flawless, resembling fine porcelain. The curve of her spine, sensual and graceful, traced a mesmerizing line from her neck downward, peeking intermittently through her locks.

This line, born from within and expressed without, added an endless charm to Jingliu's beauty.

Jingliu's mind trembled.

She could clearly feel something scorching pressing against her back.

Why is this Mara-Struck episode so bizarre?

Is it trying to break my sword heart?

My sword can cleave the sun, moon, and stars—how could it fail to cut you down?

She steadied her mind, preparing to counterattack, when suddenly her thigh was lifted high into a full split.

Jingliu's eyes widened in shock. Her balance disrupted, the energy she had gathered scattered, and she let out an involuntary muffled groan.

She couldn't see her own posture, but she knew it must look utterly humiliating.

She realized she was facing an unprecedented trial.

"Don't panic."

A gentle voice echoed in the darkness.

"I'm only here to aid your cultivation."

"!!!?"

For a moment, Jingliu couldn't tell whether this was an inner demon or an external consciousness.

Jingliu regained her balance. Though her raised leg remained suspended, her one-legged stance in a full split was remarkably steady.

Truly, a swordsman's training made all the difference.

Kiana's body was also flexible enough for splits, but she could never hold it as steadily as Jingliu—she'd always end up collapsing mid-motion.

"Who are you?"

The peerless swordswoman parted her lips slightly.

She needed to discern the truth through conversation.

"Someone who can help you suppress the Mara-Struck state."

"Help me suppress it?"

"Mhm. Don't speak—focus on the sensation."

Then Jingliu felt a pressure against her chest, making it hard to breathe.

"..."

Her body trembled slightly, the toes of her raised foot swaying like a delicate flower.

Ye Feng chuckled. "Do you feel it now?"

"...Let me down."

Even in such a state, her voice remained cool and clear, like moonlight spilling over the earth.

"Not yet."

"Who are you?" Jingliu pressed.

"Before that—when you train your swordplay, do you also practice horse stance?"

"?"

A full split and a horse stance were quite different.

"I'd guess you hold it for at least half a day," Ye Feng mused. "Let's do the same here."

"?"

What kind of nonsense was this?

Jingliu's mind swirled with confusion.

She was now posed in a one-legged split, her hips completely open. With a long weapon, an enemy could easily strike her vulnerable spots—with no way to block.

A fatal flaw in combat!

"What are you trying to do?"

"'Legs worth playing with for a year'—ever heard of that? Your legs are truly exquisite. Smooth as jade, perfectly toned, fair and slender yet firm and supple."

"..."

"Let me hold them. Maybe even… rub them a little."

Ye Feng wasn't joking. He actually spent the entire afternoon hugging and nuzzling them.

Jingliu had never endured such intense "mental attacks" before.

This posture was beyond improper—it was downright indecent.

And there was no doubt the "dark hands" belonged to a man.

"Leave it to me. If you pass my training, the Mara-Struck state's influence on your mind will become negligible."

"..."

Jingliu gritted her teeth, refusing to speak.

The former swordmaster of the Xianzhou had fought countless battles.

She understood the principle: Truth lies only at the edge of the sword.

Now, completely restrained, she had no room for resistance.

All she could do was observe and wait for an opportunity.

While Ye Feng subjected Jingliu to his "special training," Ji Lin, who had merged with the Xuanyuan Sword, arrived at the formation's core.

Fuxi and Nuwa were nowhere to be seen—only two crimson crystals brimming with dense Honkai energy remained.

"Fuxi, Nuwa…"

Ji Lin whispered their names.

She could no longer sense even a trace of their life force.

"Is revival truly possible…?"

At this moment, she desperately wished Ye Feng's words were true.

"Here, right up ahead!"

A lively girl's voice echoed through the dim passageway as several figures approached.

Ji Lin hesitated, wondering whether to hide, but then she saw her—and the sword trembled faintly.

"Chìyuān!"

The emotion in Ji Lin's voice when calling this name was entirely different from when she had spoken Fuxi and Nuwa's.

Whoosh!

The golden Xuanyuan Sword shot through the air, stopping right before Fu Hua.

Her voice trembled with excitement.

"Chìyuān, is it really you?!"

"Whoa, the sword's talking!" Kiana exclaimed in amazement.

She bounced forward eagerly to take a closer look, but Mei held her back.

"Be careful, Kiana. Don't act recklessly."

Fu Hua straightened slightly, stepping forward to shield the others.

"You are…?"

"It's me."

The Xuanyuan Sword hummed, projecting Ji Lin's ethereal figure.

Graceful and otherworldly, Ji Lin carried an air of classical elegance, like an immortal who had descended to the mortal realm.

Had Elysia been here, she'd have surely said, "Wow, such a pretty girl—can I take her home?"

But even this dignified fairy maiden couldn't contain her joy upon seeing Fu Hua.

Yet Fu Hua, ever steadfast, only looked puzzled in response.

She clasped her hands apologetically.

"...My apologies. Have we met?"

Ji Lin's eyes dimmed.

What that man said was true—Chìyuān had lost all memories of her… of them.

When Ye Feng had first told her, Ji Lin had clung to a maiden's dreamlike hope: Even if her memories are gone, might Chìyuān still remember me?

But reality was cruel.

Not only did Fu Hua not remember—she didn't even have the faintest impression.

A deep melancholy settled in Ji Lin's heart, but she forced a gentle smile, her gaze lingering on Fu Hua like flowing water.

"Let me introduce myself again. I am Ji Lin. Well… it's our first meeting. Please take care of me."

"Hmm…" Kiana studied Ji Lin, sensing something odd about the way she looked at Fu Hua.

It's like her gaze could weave silk threads.

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