By the time Rong Chen Zi returned to the temple, daylight had fully broken. He had spent nearly half the night searching for that great river clam, even resorting to using his spiritual sense before the mountain’s energy had been fully suppressed, and only then managed to detect that she had already returned to the temple. Everywhere throughout Qingxu Temple, the remnants of the ordeal were plain to see — swarms of venomous gu insects, and rotting corpses lying motionless, stripped of the malevolent energy that had once animated them.

Qingxuan led the other disciples to clean up the aftermath. Rong Chen Zi was utterly spent, but the stench clinging to his body was more than he could bear, and so he forced himself to wash up regardless. Qingsu happened to return around this time as well, and upon seeing the state of things, was equally shocked — though his arrival proved timely, and he joined Qingxuan in dealing with the mess.

Outside, all was bustle and activity. Yet the side hall where Zhiguan’s sleeping quarters were located remained perfectly still. To avoid disturbing his rest, Qingxuan had sent all the junior Daoist disciples off to sweep and clean the rest of the temple.

Rong Chen Zi lay down on the bed and fell asleep almost the instant his head touched the pillow. The river clam lay curled up beside him — licking his hand one moment, patting his face the next. Too exhausted to do much else, he reached up and gave her head a gentle pat. “Stop fussing. Go to sleep.”

The wounds from the staff strikes and palm blows he had sustained were all held in check by his incantations, and it seemed he would need to recover his strength before he could address them properly. The river clam rested her chin on his chest and traced idle circles on his neck with her index finger. At the pulse point where his blood ran closest to the surface, the lingering taste of it still drifted between her lips and teeth.

Rong Chen Zi slept with perfect composure, wholly unaffected by her antics.

That only made the river clam furious. Using the excuse of getting up for water, she dropped another small white pearl-shaped pellet into the incense burner. The demon-warding incense continued to smell exactly as it always had, its familiar fragrance curling and drifting through the room without change.

After drinking her water, she crawled back onto Rong Chen Zi’s chest. His sleep was fitful — his dreams a chaotic jumble of scenes: memories of following his master to train in his youth, vivid and lurid flashes from past exorcisms, and finally, even the naked form of Fuya from the previous night.

He snapped his eyes open. He could feel it — his thoughts were unsettled, malevolent energy seeping in. He immediately activated his Mind Concentration Technique, steadying his spirit and purging the turbid energy. The river clam seemed startled by his sudden wakefulness and stared at him with wide eyes. He gave her a small smile and gently lifted her from his chest, setting her down on the bed beside him. “Don’t move about. This poor Daoist will rest a while — then in the afternoon I’ll treat your eyes and take you to soak in water.”

The river clam nodded and lay still beside him without a word. Outwardly calm. Inwardly screaming — What in the world is wrong with this old Daoist?! Is he even human?!

What she had added to the incense burner was white datura. This particular flower was specifically suited to drawing out wicked desires — it magnified without limit the darkest impulses lurking within one’s spirit and soul, causing them to seize control of the mind in mere moments. In ordinary people, even a small pinch of its powder was enough to cause a dramatic change in temperament.

And yet — even at several times that dose, applied directly to Rong Chen Zi, he seemed completely unaffected. Under normal circumstances this might simply be attributed to exceptional willpower, but given the severity of his current injuries, it was truly difficult to comprehend.

Naturally, the great river clam could not let such a once-in-a-millennium opportunity slip away. She steeled herself and climbed out of bed again, adding yet another pellet of white datura to the burner. At this dosage, even someone like her — a practitioner who specialized in mystical arts — would be hard-pressed to endure it without effect. She stared at Rong Chen Zi, practically drooling. He smelled good — gods, he smelled so incredibly, unbearably good.

Even as she tried to rein in her own mind, she was sniffing at him like a creature half-maddened by hunger, barely restraining the urge to sink her teeth in and draw blood. The longer she entertained the thought, the more ravenous she became, until she had practically melted herself against him entirely.

When Rong Chen Zi opened his eyes again, the pristine clarity of before was gone. He gazed blankly at the great river clam lying beside him. Her long hair was black and lustrous and silken. Because her cultivation arts were of the water element, her skin had always carried a translucent, dewy glow — her lips a fresh and tender pink, her nose straight and fine, and her eyes now the blue-green clarity of open sea.

He found his thoughts drifting unbidden to the pale, delicate elegance of her bare feet. A wicked thought took root — and then, like a vine given water, it spread wildly. His breathing grew increasingly unsteady. Still, he fought it tooth and nail, chanting the Heart-Cleansing Mantra, trying desperately to resist.

The river clam furrowed her brows slightly, then, without warning, leaned in and licked along his neck. Out of deference to her presence, Rong Chen Zi had remained fully clothed even while lying down, his collar fastened all the way to the top without a gap, unbothered by the late summer heat. The river clam could only reach his earlobe. She murmured softly against his ear: “Rong Chen Zi… let me take just one bite. Just one ear…”

Her voice was like cool mountain spring water laced with a thread of honey. Rong Chen Zi could no longer gather his energy. Unable to withstand such temptation any longer, he suddenly seized the river clam by the shoulders and pulled her fiercely into his arms.

His frame was broad and powerful, his chest solid and thick. The river clam pressed one hand against the firm muscle of his chest, and her eyes practically glowed with green light — Oh gods oh gods oh gods, he’s so massive — I could feast for so long!!

The struggle in Rong Chen Zi’s eyes was immense, but injured as he was, he could not hold out against the slow and unrelenting drift of the white datura. He flipped over and pressed the river clam down beneath him.

The river clam could tell he was no longer fully lucid — even the rims of his eyes had gone red, his breathing growing louder and more ragged. Just as she moved to reach up and touch him, he forced out a single blurred word from his throat:

“Go.“

The river clam was genuinely awed. Even now — this level of resolve. Truly worthy of being a divine spirit reborn in mortal flesh. She had no intention of leaving, of course, but she didn’t dare make a reckless move either, afraid he would notice something amiss. And so the two of them remained pressed together, him above and her below, Rong Chen Zi flushed deep crimson, his chest heaving, his composure utterly shattered.

The river clam tilted her head and studied him. As if possessed, he reached down and took hold of her slender feet. His hands were thickly calloused — rough, but scorching hot. She looked up at him, her pink face upturned. His eyes were still fixed in a daze, but still — he made no move to go further.

His fingers worked slowly, kneading and rubbing her delicate toes and ankles. The river clam was beside herself — What in the actual hell! You insufferable old Daoist, you absolute deviant — the deepest desire you’ve been hiding this whole time is to rub someone’s FEET?!

At that precise moment, Qingxuan pushed open the door and entered. He was carrying a tray bearing medicines for detoxification and wound treatment. Rong Chen Zi never kept him and Qingsu at arm’s length in his usual affairs, and since Rong Chen Zi appeared to be sound asleep, he hadn’t thought to knock. He had not expected that stepping through the doorway of the sleeping quarters would present him with a scene so utterly arresting.

There on the wide carved-wood bed, the river clam’s long hair fanned out across the pillow. His usually strict and upright master was pressed heavily over the river clam, breathing like a winded ox, one hand working vigorously to knead her jade-like foot. Qingxuan’s hand jerked, nearly sending the entire tray crashing to the floor. But somehow he managed — very carefully, very quietly — to set the tray down on the table. Then he turned right back around, walked out, and pulled the door shut behind him.

With the wooden door closed, the scene was gone from view. Yet Qingxuan’s heart was still thundering wildly. So it turned out that Master, when it came to… ahem… what happened in the bedroom… had this rather uninhibited side to him…

And no wonder — Sea Emperor indeed. Truly capable. Things were looking up. She had officially become a furnace vessel now; from this point on, he would have to be especially careful never to offend her. Qingxuan walked away, working to calm his violently pounding heart.

The river clam, for her part, was having her foot kneaded to the point of genuine pain. She was an internal cultivation practitioner — her greatest weakness had always been her physical body. At Rong Chen Zi’s level of cultivation, if he ever wanted to kill her in close quarters, it would be no different from crushing an egg in his fist. With that kind of grip applied to her foot, tears welled in her eyes from the pain: “Rong Chen Zi, you absolute perverted freak — damn you to the immortal heavens — if you’re going to do something, then do it, stop torturing my poor foot! Whimper, whimper, it hurts…”

Rong Chen Zi’s consciousness had never fully gone under. He bit down savagely on the tip of his tongue, forcing out a mouthful of blood. Then with one sharp pull, he hauled the river clam off the bed entirely, and through gritted teeth forced out a single word:

“Go!!“

Now it was the river clam’s turn to hesitate.

Oh gods — do I go or not?

Go? But he already had his hands all over my foot and nothing came of it. Too much of a loss. Don’t go? What, let things actually go further? But I came here to eat — to get a meal out of him — and if he ends up being the one consuming ME before I’ve had a single bite, then no matter how I calculate it, I’m the one losing here!

Ugh — to fail in one’s mission before it even begins, and end up being the one gotten — the river clam was thoroughly conflicted.