The moment Long Tian stepped out of the ancestral cave, the world felt quieter.
Not because the sect had changed.
But because he had.
His skin held a new sheen, as if kissed by dawn.
His footsteps were no longer heavy.
Even the air around him seemed warmer—curving slightly in response to his breath.
It wasn't cultivation.
It was presence.
> The Lust Dragon Core pulsed gently beneath his navel, unseen but alive.
His body now carried an aura once buried—the scent of desire, subtle but undeniable.
And though no one could name it… they felt it.
---
Back in the Sect
The outer sect was still as harsh as ever.
Disciples sparred under sunlit courtyards. Elders scolded students over form and failure. The clanging of swords echoed through the pines.
But when Long Tian walked past…
They looked.
Not with scorn.
Not with laughter.
But something else.
Confusion.
Curiosity.
Even hesitation.
Some turned back as if drawn by instinct.
A junior girl blushed and dropped her scroll.
One outer disciple tilted his head, scenting the air like a beast that sensed something unfamiliar.
Long Tian said nothing.
But inside, the Sutra whispered:
"The world has already begun to feel you."
---
She Stood Above Them All
High above, in the central courtyard where only inner sect disciples trained, she stood like a snow-carved statue.
Leng Xiyue.
The cold moon of the Jade Moon Sect.
Senior disciple. Sword prodigy. Untouched by scandal, immune to flattery.
It was said that she had once sliced a suitor's robe mid-confession without even blinking.
Her beauty was distant.
Her heart, locked.
Her cultivation, pristine.
But today, her gaze shifted.
As she meditated beneath the Frost Lotus Pavilion, her senses flickered. A pulse. A warmth. A ripple in the flow of cold air.
She opened her eyes.
And saw him.
---
A Shift in Stillness
He wasn't glowing.
He wasn't flying.
He wasn't even looking at her.
But something about Long Tian's walk—shoulders relaxed, hips rolling with instinctive rhythm, head held in subtle defiance—caught her breath.
And that was dangerous.
Because Leng Xiyue did not breathe for trash.
She stood and walked along the edge of the balcony, eyes narrowed.
His back was bare. His robe hung open as he poured water over himself near the outer disciple well.
Nothing improper.
Nothing obscene.
And yet…
Her heart fluttered.
She could see the water curve around his chest like it belonged there.
She could hear the sound of his breath slow, controlled—not like a servant, but a beast watching its own cage.
Her fingers trembled on the rail.
"What changed?" she thought.
"Why does he… smell like danger?"
---
First Glimpse of the Sutra's Aura
Long Tian looked up.
Not at her.
Just toward the sun.
But his head tilted in such a way that the light caught the corner of his jaw, traced down his neck, and glowed where a faint, lotus-shaped rune had begun to etch itself into his lower collarbone.
She gasped, but swallowed it.
Then he turned—slowly, like he had felt her watching.
Their eyes met for a moment.
Just a moment.
But in that moment, everything stopped.
The air thickened.
Her breath hitched.
His lips parted—not in speech, but a silent acknowledgment.
And then he looked away.
And walked on.
---
Aftermath
Leng Xiyue stood there, motionless.
The wind picked up.
Snow began to fall in slow, silent flurries—even though it was not yet winter.
She closed her eyes and inhaled.
And for the first time in five years…
Her spiritual rhythm faltered.
---
She'yan's Whisper
Back inside the Sutra realm, She'yan smiled in the dark.
"She felt you. Good."
"Let them wonder, let them ache."
"But remember, Lustful One… not all who touch you are ready to be touched back."
---