A generation of soldiers begins with Feng Yuxiu traveling through time and space with Xu Sanduo

"I need one person's complete file. I know you're monitoring the martial arts world."

"It's a woman, yes...right away..."

"The more detailed the better, ideally including all birth records."

"Shan Ying...this is very important to my plans."

Feng Yuxiu walked out of the grocery store. He needed to win over Shan Ying's heart, and he had to do nothing for the next few days.

Now that the martial arts world has begun to stir, let's wait for the right moment and let it ferment on its own.

What Feng Yuxiu needed to do was to let Weng Haisheng take action on his own.

No matter what Weng Haisheng did, I will protect him to the death.

He could not allow such a situation to occur again in his past life.

-

-

It was late at night, and the courtyard was quiet; not even the chirping of insects could be heard.

Shan Ying had just finished showering, and her body was still warm and damp.

She specially chose a silk nightgown, light beige, the soft fabric draping down and shimmering faintly under the light, subtly outlining the lines of her body as she moved.

She sat down on the hardwood chair half an hour earlier than the agreed time.

The chair was cool, seeping in through her thin silk dress, keeping her somewhat conscious.

My palms were slightly damp.

She gripped her skirt tightly, then released it, her heart pounding so hard it seemed to echo in the silent room.

The ticking of the wall clock was exceptionally clear, each tick striking a nerve.

A breeze slipped in through the half-open window, fluttering the curtains and brushing against her bare shoulders and neck, sending a slight shiver down her spine.

She told herself that this was only the second treatment.

She is the deputy head of the He Yi Sect and Xiahou Wu's junior sister. She possesses the composure and pride of a martial artist.

But when she heard the very light footsteps outside the door, those self-admonitions suddenly became shaky.

The door was pushed open at exactly nine o'clock.

Feng Yuxiu was like a shadow melting into the night, silently slipping in.

He was still dressed in a sharp black outfit, his figure slender, yet possessing a razor-sharp edge.

He closed the door behind him and his gaze fell on Shan Ying.

His gaze swept over her, lingering for a moment longer than usual.

His eyes were very dark, and he usually looked at people with a scrutinizing and cold gaze. But at this moment, something else seemed to be churning beneath that coldness, dark and indistinct.

He didn't say anything, he just slowly approached.

“You’re very punctual,” he said, his voice lower than the night before, with a sandpaper-like quality that scraped against the eardrum.

Shan Ying straightened her back, trying to maintain the calmness in her tone: "I said I would cooperate with the treatment."

But when he said those words, he inexplicably lacked some confidence.

Feng Yuxiu did not respond to her statement, but simply stopped a step away from her.

At this distance, she could clearly smell his scent.

The coolness of the night dew, the smell of dust, and a faint, aggressive scent that belonged to him, like iron scraping against the skin.

His gaze first fell on her face, carefully scanning it as if observing her state, then slowly moved down, sweeping over her chest that was rising and falling slightly due to nervousness, passing over the waistline cinched under her silk nightgown, and finally settling on her hands clasped together on her knees.

The knuckles of those fingers were slightly white from the force applied.

"How did you feel after last night's meridian massage?" he said calmly, as if stating a fact. "Were your muscles a little looser or tighter?"

Dan Ying's throat bobbed, avoiding his gaze: "...It's a bit looser. But some places are still a little sore and swollen."

"Where?" he asked, taking half a step forward.

The air suddenly became thin.

The oppressive aura he exuded silently enveloped Shan Ying, and mixed with his aura, caused her breath to catch in her throat slightly.

“Shoulders…and back,” she whispered.

"Hmm." Feng Yuxiu seemed to have only received the answer he expected.

He reached out, but this time, instead of touching her directly, he hovered his palm about an inch above her shoulder, feeling for a moment.

"There is a blockage in the flow of qi and blood. It seems that I was too conservative with the force last night."

His palm slowly pressed down, finally resting against her rounded shoulder through the thin, gossamer-like silk.

The heat emanated undeniably, accompanied by the subtle rustling sound of rough calluses rubbing against the fabric.

Start with gentle pressure, first massaging the stiffness near the Jianjing acupoint with your fingertips.

Dan Ying subconsciously bit her lower lip.

The touch was different from last night; it was slower and more focused, as if his fingers were not relaxing her muscles, but reading every tense texture of her body.

"Relax." His command rang in her ear, his breath brushing against her sensitive earlobe. "You're too tense. I can't exert any force, and you can't take it either."

Dan Ying closed her eyes, trying to slow her breathing and shift her attention away from the burning hot hand.

But this effort was almost entirely in vain.

His thumb dug into the tendons on the inside of her shoulder blade, pressing down slowly and firmly in a circular motion.

"Uh..." A short, muffled groan escaped her lips.

It was a sharp, aching sensation, mixed with the dull pain of being forcefully opened. Then, a strange warm current spread out with his pressure, dispelling the deep chill.

“Here,” he said calmly, but his hand tightened its grip without any hesitation, “it’s been accumulating for a long time. Martial artists are most likely to overlook these subtle, hidden injuries.”

His palms traced down her spine, pressing steadily through her silk dress.

The fabric rubbed against his skin with his movements, creating a tactile sensation that was both scratching and soothing, a sensation that was unsettling.

Dan Ying's back arched involuntarily, but she forced herself to press it down.

She could feel her skin gradually getting hot under his pressure, and some dormant, feminine senses were roughly awakened, only to be firmly confined by him in the name of treatment.

His hand moved to her waist, the very spot where she had felt the most discomfort during her morning practice.

His fingers precisely gripped a taut tendon and began to knead it with just the right amount of pressure.

"Hmm..." Shan Ying took a deep breath, her body trembling slightly involuntarily.

That area was too sensitive; the tingling and numb sensation spread like an electric current, instantly making her waist go limp.

"Here?" he asked, his hands continuing their work, instead exploring the tangled muscles more meticulously, his fingertips occasionally brushing against the hollow of her waist.

“...Yes.” Her answer trembled slightly.

The deputy sect leader's pride made her desperately suppress any more sounds, but her body's reaction was so honest that it made her ashamed.

A light sweat seeped from the back of my neck, and my breathing became increasingly difficult to maintain.

"Bear with it." Feng Yuxiu's voice still didn't reveal any emotion, but he was very close, his chest almost touching her back.

Dan Ying could feel the vibration in his chest as he spoke, and the unmistakable masculine body temperature. "Where there is free flow, there is no pain. The more you resist this pain, the harder it is for your qi and blood to flow."

He raised his other hand and supported her waist on the other side, almost in a semi-embracing position, to hold her in place.

With both hands applying force simultaneously, they pressed and kneaded along the curve of her waist and back in a peculiar rhythm.

Pain and relief are intertwined, and the clear therapeutic intentions are indistinguishable from ambiguous physical contact.

Shan Ying felt as if she had been split in two.

One half of her was rationally experiencing the soreness and subsequent comfort as her meridians were unblocked, while the other half was succumbing to this overly intimate constraint and the dizzying sense of control brought by those hands.

"Brother..." she finally couldn't help but call out, her voice revealing a weakness and confusion she herself hadn't even realized, "Is this... really necessary?"

"Call me Master..."

Dan Ying's body trembled, clearly showing signs of struggling.

Feng Yuxiu glanced sideways. It seemed that the time had not yet come. Taming such a powerful figure in the martial arts world as the deputy sect leader would require a gradual process.

Unlike ordinary women like Xiaofei and Li Xuanxuan, the strong sense of self-esteem of women in the martial arts world comes from their martial arts skills.

They are completely capable of crushing any man who has not practiced martial arts, therefore their sense of superiority is higher than the sky.

Feng Yuxiu stopped what he was doing.

His hand, which was supporting her waist, did not leave; instead, it tightened slightly, allowing her to feel the strength and presence of his fingers more clearly.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on her blushing profile and trembling eyelashes.

"Do you think I'm humiliating you?" he asked, his tone calm, yet piercing her heart like a needle. "Or are you trying to satisfy some other need?"

Shan Ying was speechless. She couldn't answer.

To say it is tantamount to admitting that one's intentions are impure and that one has fantasized about the pure treatment.

If she says no, then what about her current panic and physical trembling?
“You think too highly of yourself, Deputy Sect Leader Shan.” His voice was lowered, carrying a cold insight. “In my eyes, you are first and foremost an injured person with blocked blood and qi that needs to be cleared. Your body is nothing more than a shell that needs adjustment, no different in essence from those wooden dummies and sandbags.”

These words were like a bucket of cold water, or a dull knife.

It dampened some of the allure, but it also slowly eroded her pride as a martial artist and as a woman.

He objectified her body as a tool in need of repair, which made her shame and resistance stemming from intimacy seem presumptuous.

"Distract yourself," he commanded, his hands moving again, this time focusing more on the stubborn knots in her neck and shoulders, applying so much pressure that she groaned.

"Feel the direction of the force, feel the flow of qi and blood. This is true surrender. Entrust your injuries and discomfort to someone who knows how to treat them. Your self-respect and your sense of shame are here."

He pressed down hard with his fingertips, bringing a sharp, tingling sensation. "They're all obstacles."

Tears welled up in Shan Ying's eyes from the pain, but she bit her lip tightly.

His words, though cold, strangely pulled her out of that ambiguous chaos.

She tried to follow his instructions, focusing her attention on the path his fingers were pressing, trying to feel the subtle comfort that followed the soreness and pain.

Indeed, when he used a special technique to massage away an extremely painful nodule, the resulting sense of relief was real and undeniable.

However, beneath this professional facade, the subtle tension never ceased.

His fingers would often unintentionally trace along her spine, sending a shiver down her spine.

The time his palm lingered on her back always seemed to be a fraction longer than necessary.

When he asked her to lean forward slightly to deal with the area below her back, his arm naturally circled around from the front, gently supporting her in a protective gesture.

As the treatment neared its end, his movements slowed down, transforming into large, gentle stroking motions from the back of his neck down to his waist.

The rough palms repeatedly rubbed against the back covered by the silk dress, the heat almost ironing the fabric through.

Dan Ying had long since lost her initial tension; her body became somewhat limp under his hands, and her consciousness seemed to float on the boundary between pain and comfort, between clarity and indulgence.

Finally, his hand stopped at the back of her neck, his thumb pressing on the Fengchi acupoint and gently massaging it.

A strong, tingling, and numb sensation shot straight to the top of her head, making her vision blur slightly, and a faint whimper escaped her throat.

Just then, he suddenly chuckled very softly, his breath brushing against the back of her ear.

“See, you can do it.” His voice carried a hint of barely perceptible admiration. “Let go of those useless inhibitions, and you will get what you need.”

After saying that, he decisively withdrew all contact, as if the long and agonizing intimacy had never happened.

Dan Ying felt a sudden relaxation wash over her, almost collapsing into the chair, barely able to support herself with her arms.

Her back was soaked with sweat, and her silk dress clung to her skin, outlining her clear silhouette.

She didn't dare turn around to look at him; her face was burning hot, and her heart was filled with indescribable complex emotions.

There was relief after treatment, anger at being forced to lower one's guard, shame at having one's body so meticulously manipulated by a strange man, and a deep fear of gradually adapting to and even becoming dependent on oneself.

Feng Yuxiu had retreated to a normal distance, his expression returning to its usual indifference. Only his eyes, under the lamplight, appeared exceptionally deep, like a beast that had just had a hearty meal and had temporarily sheathed its claws.

“Same time tomorrow,” he announced unemotionally. “Remember how you felt delivering tonight. Next time, if you can cooperate like you did in the second half of tonight… we can try to address the more fundamental old wounds.”

He deliberately emphasized the word "cooperate," his gaze sweeping over her sweaty temples and her still-reddened ear tips.

"Get some rest, Deputy Sect Leader Shan."

He turned and left, disappearing silently as if into the night.

Dan Ying sat alone in the chair, remaining motionless for a long time.

His presence and that unsettling sense of oppression still seemed to linger in the room.

The spot on the back of my neck where he had pressed last still lingered with a tingling numbness, while my entire back, where it had once been stiff and painful, was now filled with a strange, languid relaxation.

"It's no different from a wooden dummy or sandbag..."

She repeated his words in a low voice, trying to cool her turbulent emotions with this cold definition.

But deep within her body, a hidden memory of the pain and relief brought on by those hands was awakened, surging like a tide.

She knew that Xiahou Wu would not be back anytime soon.

They also knew they were being led into a vague and dangerous situation.

Feng Yuxiu was like a cold-blooded craftsman, using a method that intertwined pain and comfort to gradually wear away her defensive shell, both physically and psychologically.

What he provided was genuine physical relief.

What he demanded was an almost submissive delivery.

Beneath this clear understanding, a complex anticipation for the next treatment, like vines, quietly grows in the shadows.

As the night deepened, silence once again enveloped the courtyard.

Shan Ying slowly stood up, supporting herself on the chair; her legs were still a little weak.

She walked to the mirror and looked at the woman in it, whose hair was slightly disheveled, whose eyes were watery, and whose cheeks were flushed, and felt a strong sense of unfamiliarity.

The unwavering resolve and self-control of the He Yi Sect's Deputy Leader were silently cracking in some corner.

She realized that her body was gradually becoming out of control, and even began to feel a slight ripple of disintegration.

As a director of the Foshan Martial Arts Association and the deputy head of the Heyi Sect, he is an important figure in the martial arts world.

At this moment, she is inside this small house...

Dan Ying murmured, her eyes slightly misty, "Does he want me to call him master...?" (End of Chapter)