Chapter 5:

Embers in the Inner Court.

[Mei Rong's POV]

Mei Rong stood motionless long after the man disappeared into the sect grounds

She should have struck him down. She should have burned him where he stood. But her hands hadn't moved.

Her qi has flared, yes, but when his own energy surged—silver and violet, rich and ancient—it had tangled with hers, entered her aura without permission without effort. It was as if the very foundation of her cultivation had opened to him.

That terrified her, it was also thrilling to her.

She'd felt his breath at her neck, not physical but spiritual. That devouring energy, it hadn't just been pushed against her Flame, it had tasted it and liked it.....Her heart was still racing.

"I need to report this to the Sect master" she told herself aloud.

But she didn't move.

Because deep down, she knew something the others didn't:

That man… he wasn't just powerful. He was designed to conquer.

[Haaron's POV]

The outer court fell behind him with ease, no one tried or made an attempt to stop him.

He walked with the kind of aura that made hesitation feel like permission. The guards avoided his eyes. The disciples whispered as he passed. Lian Rou walked beside him, arms folded, tails swaying with mock innocence. The smirk on her lips hadn't faded since they stepped through the sect's inner gate.

"I thought you were planning to move quietly and unnoticed" she teased.

"I said I was going to get what I came for," he answered her coldly.

"Threatening elders, seducing disciples, walking through barriers like you own the place… Not exactly subtle."

They'll remember me. That's enough

The inner court was well-kept—high walls, floating bridges between training halls, and elegant formations etched along the stone paths to purify the surrounding qi. He tasted alchemical smoke on the air, light and bitter.

The scent of pills.

"Alchemy labs are near the eastern wing," Lian Rou said, gesturing with her chin. "Sealed for upper-circle disciples. You'll need clearance."

"I don't need permission," Haaron said flatly.

He turned left and made his way toward the eastern wing. The air was denser here, saturated with medicinal qi. Spirit herb gardens climbed the stone walls in neat tiers, and cauldron towers rose like watchtowers, each guarded by locked formation plates.

A group of inner disciples walked past them—two males, three females—all in white-green robes with silver embroidery. One of the girls paused, frowning when she saw Haaron.

"He's not part of our sect."

The taller man beside her looked Haaron up and down. "Rogue cultivator?"

Lian Rou leaned in close to Haaron, her voice a sultry whisper. "Want me to deal with them?"

"No," Haaron said, stepping forward. "I enjoy teaching.

The male disciple stepped into his path. "Stop right there. This area is restricted to Inner Pill Circle members. State your rank or leave—"

Haaron struck.

A casual palm to the chest.

The man flew backward ten meters, crashing into a row of storage crates. Bottles shattered. One of the girls screamed.

Haaron looked at the others. "Anyone else want to test my rank?!

They backed away instantly.

He kept walking.

Lian Rou's laughter trailed behind him. "You have no patience."

"I'm done asking. This world doesn't give—so I take."

He approached the largest tower, its entrance sealed by layered formations—a shimmering disk of rotating runes marked with a sect sigil and two bloodline locks.

"High-grade restriction," Lian Rou said. "Even I'd need a month to decode it."

"I only need one minute."

He pressed his palm to the barrier.

Silver qi flared, not in resistance—but in resonance. The lock shivered. The symbols warped. Then something inside the formation reacted. Haaron's energy, still carrying the imprint of the Heaven-Devourer Manual, bypassed the lock completely.

The door clicked and opened.

Lian Rou blinked. "That… shouldn't be possible."

Haaron stepped inside.

The chamber was dim and massive—rows of pill furnaces, hundreds of herb cabinets, a spirit flame core in the center like a beating heart. But one wall was different.

Sealed in runes. Covered in chains. Guarded by an old talisman.

Haaron walked straight toward it.

"This isn't just an alchemy room," he murmured. "It's a hidden inheritance vault."

He placed his hand on the talisman.

It burned. Words rushed into his mind. Old. Foul. Erotic.

"Flesh is the catalyst, Lust is the fire, Devour the pure, refine the willing."

Lian Rou stiffened beside him. "That's… a forbidden alchemy scripture."

"I know." His eyes narrowed. "And it's calling me."

The talisman melted under his touch.

The wall split open.

Inside: a floating scroll of dark silk, pulsing with red and black light. The Crimson Cauldron Scripture—a lost manual from the ancient dual alchemy sects.

Haaron reached out and touched it.

The moment his fingers met the scroll, it dissolved into smoke—and flowed into him.

His veins ignited.

Power surged through his limbs—techniques, pill formulas, rituals that used pleasure, pain, and essence as ingredients. A method to refine women as partners and pills—fueling both cultivation and pill creation through shared climax.

Lian Rou's breath caught as she stepped back. "You just bound a legacy. It's yours now."

"I know," he said.

He turned to face her, eyes glowing faintly.

She stared. "You've changed again. Stronger."

"You feel it?" he asked, walking toward her slowly.

She nodded, but didn't move.

"You still owe me a rematch," he said. "That last ritual barely scratched the surface of what this body can do."

She licked her lips. "You're addictive."

"I'm necessary."

His hand slid around her waist, pulling her close. She didn't resist.

Their lips brushed.

But he stopped an inch short.

"I want you to beg for it next time," he whispered. Then he let go.

Lian Rou swallowed hard. "You're evil."

"No," he said. "I'm free."

Unbeknownst to them, Panic rippled through Verdant Flame Sect like wildfire.