“Wu…” The girl sat nearby, and with what little strength remained to her she could only clutch at the covers — she could not even manage to climb out of the bed.

Zhan Qingcheng’s dark, sword-sharp brows drew together faintly, a trace of impatience crossing his face.

Seeing that expression, the little girl cried even harder, on the verge of breaking into full-throated wailing. “Wu, wu, wuwuwu…”

“Just how long are you going to keep crying?” He had given her such an exceptional transfer of inner energy — why was she not focusing on refining it instead of weeping?

“The Ninth Imperial Uncle is bullying me, wu…” Feng Jiu’er wiped at her tears, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle was genuinely out of patience — he had a certain helpless aversion to the sound of a woman crying.

He was entertaining thoughts of simply kicking her out of the bed, but she had just provided him with a measure of fresh blood to aid his cultivation and help suppress the poison within him. To send her flying immediately after felt somewhat ungracious.

“What is it that you actually want?” At last, whatever good temper he had left was very nearly spent.

“I want the Ninth Imperial Uncle to have someone tell the Court of Celestial Scrutiny that the people who rescued me that night were from the Ninth Prince’s manor.”

“Are you not afraid the Emperor will suspect this Prince of having ties to the Heavenly Sovereign Sect’s Sect Master?”

“I am sure the Ninth Imperial Uncle can talk his way around it.”

But there was no response — he closed his eyes, intending to resume circulating his inner energy.

“Wu…”

His brow furrowed again.

“Wu, wu…”

The vein at his temple became faintly visible.

“Wu, wu, wu…”

“Granted!”

“Thank you, Ninth Imperial Uncle!” Feng Jiu’er wiped away her tears in an instant and happily began to scramble down off the bed.

But she had forgotten — the Ninth Imperial Uncle had just channeled inner energy into her, and her body had not yet adjusted to it. Her limbs were still without their full strength.

With a thud, she fell — and this time she was genuinely tearful about it, because it hurt.

Zhan Qingcheng felt a mild exasperation. He looked down at the girl sprawled on the floor, her upper garments still in disarray, and though he wanted to simply close his eyes and ignore her, he ultimately let out a quiet sigh.

With a gentle sweep of his sleeve, she was drawn up and settled into his arms.

“Such a constant source of trouble.” He pulled the blanket over her casually and deposited her to one side.

He closed his eyes, his lips barely moving. “Sleep. Otherwise, this Prince will draw blood again.”

“Will you give me another portion of inner energy if you do?” Feng Jiu’er had actually done the calculations, and come to the conclusion that this arrangement was quite a favorable bargain.

In truth, the Ninth Imperial Uncle only ever took the smallest amount of blood each time — just a few drops.

But every time after drawing blood, he would channel a share of inner energy into her, just as he had done tonight.

If inner energy like that were transferred ten or twenty more times, she could guarantee that her lightness skill cultivation would advance with half the effort for twice the result.

Glancing over to find her small face alight with expectation, Zhan Qingcheng had a faint sense that his head was beginning to ache.

This girl… had actually set her sights on his inner energy.

“Sleep!”

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, if you are always this fierce, you will never find a wife.”

Feng Jiu’er gave him a sidelong look, lay face-down, and closed her eyes to rest.

When she woke the next morning, she would have fully absorbed that share of the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s inner energy, and her cultivation would have grown a little more.

Wonderful! Gained with no effort at all — only a tiny bit of blood to spare.

Though — could he please not strip her clothing off next time? Lecher! Taking advantage of her with such a straight face — how could anyone be so utterly insufferable!

As she drifted into sleep, the little girl’s lips moved, and she murmured something under her breath: “…Wicked Ninth Imperial Uncle… be good and listen… I spare your life, heh heh heh… you had better be good, you hear…”

The man who was in the midst of circulating his inner energy opened his eyes for the N+1th time. This time, he finally could not restrain himself, and used his sleeve to wipe away the trail of drool from the corner of her lips.

Everyone in the world feared him — the war god, the Ninth Prince. Yet this girl was completely unafraid, and even in her dreams she was scheming to turn the tables and bully him. She was truly…

A headache.