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

For the next two weeks, Hong Kong remained calm.

Weng Haisheng did not commit any crimes, because all the martial arts masters he knew and wanted to challenge had been killed by Feng Yuxiu beforehand.

This rendered all the information Weng Haisheng had prepared useless, and now he needs to slowly find other martial arts masters in Hong Kong.

Therefore, Weng Haisheng frantically began to search for information.

Feng Yuxiu's goal was simple: he wanted to stir up the martial arts world once again.

It seems that the people from Dongying were warned by someone behind the scenes, and they stopped their high-profile search.

Therefore, Feng Yuxiu wanted Xiahou Wu to make his own decision.

Nothing could possibly drive a martial arts master to do something irrational: the role of an incompetent husband.

Half a month is enough time for many things to quietly change.

For Shan Ying, the past two weeks have felt like a slow but steady tide.

During the day, she remained the aloof and self-possessed deputy sect leader of the Heyi Sect, guiding her disciples, handling sect affairs, and maintaining the facade of everything as normal.

However, as dusk fell, a secret expectation, one that she herself did not wish to delve into, began to quietly spread in her heart, like vines entwining her soul, tightening little by little.

The acupoint sensations that Feng Yuxiu left on her body were like a pre-ordained punishment or a gift, delivered precisely every night.

It has already evolved into a tug-of-war between will and instinct, pain and pleasure, resistance and depravity.

The pressing and kneading caused a sharp pain that made my vision go black.

But after the pain, the comfort of being forcibly loosened, the warmth of the blood and qi flowing again, and the subsequent deep-seated relaxation made her feel like she was addicted to a drug.

He commanded her to give herself, and some part of her body actually began to defy her will, clumsily and shamefully learning how to give herself to him.

The tense muscles were forced to relax under his hands, the rapid breathing tried to calm down at his command, and even the trembling caused by shame seemed to gradually blend into the rhythm of the traditional Chinese massage, becoming an indescribable sensory experience mixed with pain.

The worst time is at night.

My once clear and dreamless sleep is now invaded by fragmented, burning memories.

This aloof and classically beautiful woman transformed into a rabbit, a rabbit that turns blue three times a month.

There are no longer clear figures or plots in the dream, only tactile sensations.

The burning heat of rough palms against the skin, the sharp yet exhilarating tingling sensation when knuckles grind over nodules, the thrilling yet longing ripples stirred up as the force travels along the spine.

She awoke with a start from these illusory sensations, her back drenched in sweat, her heart pounding. In the silent darkness, the chilling and dangerous aura emanating from him seemed to linger.

She began to fear falling asleep, yet secretly longed to experience that devastating yet addictive control again in her dreams.

At the same time, her feelings for her senior brother Xiahou Wu developed into a distance that even she found alarming.

Xiahou Wu returned, weary from his journey and filled with concern for her.

He remained gentle, composed, and the senior brother she remembered as someone she could rely on.

But when he gets close and tries to pat her shoulder as he used to, or check on her recovery, Shan Ying will unconsciously tense up and even take a half step back without making a sound.

The warmth of his palm, his concerned gaze, and even the familiar scent emanating from him made her feel a strange... unease.

The feeling wasn't disgust, but rather a sense of pale powerlessness in comparison.

Xiahou Wu's concern was like lukewarm water, safe but unable to soothe the deep-seated thirst within her, a thirst she herself did not understand, awakened by pain and a certain violent Chinese massage.

Xiahou Wu was not a slow-witted person.

He keenly sensed the changes in his junior sister. The occasional dazed look in her eyes, her avoidance of his touch, the increasingly obvious, almost decadent aura emanating from her after shedding her cold exterior... all of this pointed to a direction he didn't want to think about deeply.

What pained him even more was that her recovery was real; the pain from her old injuries that had troubled her for so long had significantly lessened, and her complexion even had an indescribable radiance compared to before the injury.

There must have been a man near him when he left.

Who is it?

Who is it? Who dares to lay a finger on his forbidden fruit?

Who dared to lay a big, hard rod on Xiahou Wu's woman!
Jealousy, like a poisoned vine, festered wildly in the dark corners of Xiahou Wu's heart.

It wasn't just a man's jealousy that another man might have his beloved; it was also mixed with a fear of being replaced, anger at his own powerlessness, and a furious rage at watching his pure and resolute junior sister slide into an unknown abyss.

He tried his best to maintain the composure and tolerance of his senior brother, but the gloom in the depths of his eyes grew heavier day by day.

During practice, the wooden dummy received increasingly heavy palm strikes, accompanied by a faint sound of wind being cut.

He meditated alone in the courtyard late at night, his breathing often disordered, and the nameless fire in his heart burned so hard that his internal organs ached.

He began to pay extra attention to the movements at Shan Ying's residence. Even the slightest unusual sound would make him prick up his ears and tense up.

The moonlight was obscured by thin clouds, making the light dim and unclear.

After taking a bath, Shan Ying sat in front of the dressing table wearing only a thin silk robe, but had no interest in combing her long hair.

Her fingers unconsciously traced her shoulders, neck, and back.

Those places that were once sealed off and repeatedly polished.

The skin seemed to still remember the force, and the muscles, in the silence, seemed to retain the languor of being kneaded.

A vague, insatiable itch seeped out from the very marrow of my bones; it wasn't pain, but it was more unsettling than pain.

She knew what he was waiting for, or rather, what her body was waiting for.

Every second felt incredibly long.

She didn't know if that man would come tonight; it had been half a month.

This feeling was too much for her to control; the flames were about to consume this beautiful young woman completely.

The feeling of self-immolation was so intense that I had to take ten showers a day.

Her wheat-colored skin turned snow-white.

She was restless, and several times she went to the window, but then forced herself to sit back on the bed.

The silky fabric of the bathrobe rubbed against her skin, creating a subtle, teasing sensation that only made her more agitated.

She felt as if she were being slowly tortured over a low flame. Reason told her that this was dangerous and unbearable, but her body betrayed her by yearning for the expected, painful release.

Finally, the very light tapping sound, almost blending into the night breeze, rang out.

Dan Ying's heart skipped a beat, and she stood up from the bedside almost instantly, her movements so fast that they stirred up a breeze.

She took a deep breath, walked to the window, and her hand trembled slightly as she pushed it open.

Feng Yuxiu slipped into the room like a ghost, still dressed in black, carrying the chill of the night.

He closed the window with a smooth, silent motion.

Only a dim bedside lamp was lit in the room, casting a hazy glow on his hard profile, but making his eyes appear even more unfathomable.

He didn't start immediately; he just stood there, calmly observing Shan Ying.

From his angle, he could see her slightly heaving chest, the loose collar of her nightgown revealing a section of her fair and delicate collarbone, and water dripping from the ends of her still-wet hair, falling onto her shoulder and spreading into a small, dark patch. Her face showed an undisguised eagerness, and a blush of embarrassment and annoyance brought on by that eagerness.

"You..." Shan Ying began, her voice somewhat hoarse, "Where... shall we begin tonight?"

She tried to make her tone sound calm and normal, like she was talking about the weather, but the slight tremor at the end of her voice betrayed too much.

Feng Yuxiu did not answer, but simply walked closer.

As he drew nearer, that familiar, oppressive aura enveloped him.

Unconsciously, Shan Ying took a half step back, her heel touching the edge of the bed.

He stopped just inches away from her, his gaze falling on her neck, where the veins were slightly bulging due to her nervousness.

"What's the rush?" he asked, his voice low and flat, revealing no emotion. "Does Vice Sect Leader Shan seem particularly excited tonight?"

These words were like a fine needle, precisely piercing through Shan Yingqiang's self-maintained composure.

Her face flushed even redder, half from shame and indignation, and half from the embarrassment of having her thoughts exposed.

"I don't!"

She instinctively retorted, but her voice was weak and lacked any confidence.

Feng Yuxiu gave a very slight twitch at the corner of his mouth; it was hardly a smile, but more like a ripple of mockery.

"No?"

He suddenly raised his hand, his fingertips not touching her, but rather drawing a line in the air along the collar of her nightgown. "Then why are your muscles so tense? And why is your breathing so erratic?"

His gaze was almost tangible, and with that seemingly swiping motion, Shan Ying felt her skin tighten and heat up wherever he looked, as if he had truly touched her with his fingertips.

She bit her lower lip, turned her face away, but her breathing became even more rapid and uncontrollable.

She hated his all-knowing, cold scrutiny, and even more so, she hated her own utterly exposed reaction in front of him.

"It's an old injury... it's a little uncomfortable." She made up an excuse, her voice barely audible.

"Oh?" Feng Yuxiu seemed to accept this statement, but the amusement in his eyes did not diminish at all.

"It seems that my previous traditional Chinese medicine massage was not thorough enough, which is why Vice Sect Leader Shan is still feeling unwell."

The words "traditional Chinese medicine massage" were uttered by him in such a calm and even tone, yet they were filled with an indescribable sense of intimacy and insult.

Dan Ying trembled, turned around abruptly to glare at him, her eyes glistening with tears, whether from anger or something else, it was hard to tell.

"You...you've gone too far!"

"Excessive?"

He finally moved, but instead of retreating, he moved even closer, so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his chest, which intertwined with his cold aura, creating a strange and dizzying atmosphere.

"I'm just stating the facts. You're looking to relieve your discomfort, and I'm offering traditional Chinese massage. It's a win-win situation, isn't it?"

His gaze slowly swept over her flushed cheeks, moist eyes, and lips that were slightly parted with excitement.

"Or is it that Deputy Sect Leader Shan needs more than just traditional Chinese medicine massage for his old injuries?"

This statement is almost a blatant declaration.

It felt as if all the blood in Shan Ying's body rushed to her head, only to recede instantly, leaving behind a battlefield where cold shame and burning desire intertwined.

She wanted to retort, to accuse him of being shameless, but her throat felt blocked, and she could only make faint, broken breaths.

Her body was trembling slightly, whether from anger or from a deeper, more unfamiliar shudder stirred by the possibility implied in his words.

Just then, a rhythmic, muffled thud could be faintly heard from downstairs.

It was the sound of Xiahou Wu practicing his boxing late at night, hitting the sandbag.

The sound pierced through the silent night and the floorboards, one beat after another, steady and powerful, as if carrying the owner's pent-up frustration and energy.

The voice was like a bucket of ice water, suddenly waking up Shan Ying from a part of her rationality.

My senior brother is downstairs!

This realization instantly tensed her entire body, draining all color from her face, leaving only panic.

She subconsciously wanted to get away from the window and from Feng Yuxiu, as if that would allow her to avoid the gaze that might fall on her from downstairs.

Feng Yuxiu naturally heard the sound as well.

His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly, and then the mocking smile on his lips seemed to deepen.

Instead of backing away, he leaned forward even more, almost trapping Shan Ying between himself and the edge of the bed.

"It seems your good senior brother won't be able to sleep tonight either."

His breath brushed against her earlobe, his voice low and laced with a malicious amusement, "Tell me, what kind of expression would he have if he knew that his pure and innocent junior sister was upstairs, unable to control herself because of another man's traditional Chinese medicine massage?"

"you shut up!"

Dan Ying was both anxious and angry. She reached out to push him away, but he easily grabbed her wrist.

His palm was hot and strong, gripping her slender wrist tightly, with such force that it hurt her.

"Shhh."

He raised her wrist and pressed it above her head, a position that made it even harder for her to break free. The sleeve of her robe slipped down, revealing her entire pale forearm.

He raised his other index finger and gently pressed it to his lips as a shushing gesture, but his eyes were sharp as knives, piercing her.

"Keep your voice down, Deputy Sect Leader Shan. Do you want to lure Xiahou Wu up here? So he can see with his own eyes your... unsatisfied state?"

"I didn't! I didn't!"

Dan Ying shook her head in despair, and tears finally rolled down her cheeks uncontrollably.

The sound of her senior brother practicing his boxing downstairs sounded like a drumbeat to her ears, each sound striking her nerves on the verge of collapse.

The man before her, with his cold words, his controlling and imprisoning manner, and the undisguised manipulation and scrutiny in his eyes, was pushing her toward the abyss.

Tragically, amidst this extreme shame, fear, and anger, the pain from his tightly gripped wrist and the suffocating feeling of being enveloped by his breath blended into a bizarre and chilling stimulation.

Her body trembled more and more noticeably, but it was no longer just because of resistance.

Feng Yuxiu admired the intense struggle in her eyes, tears mixed with humiliation, anger, and a plea and obsession that even she herself was unwilling to admit, revealed after being driven to the brink.

He was like a master hunter, patiently tormenting the beautiful prey that had fallen into his trap, enjoying its every futile struggle and its gradually revealed weakness.

"No?"

He repeated her feeble rebuttal, his thumb maliciously rubbing the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, feeling the rapid pulse there.

Your body is much more honest than your mouth.

He released his grip on her wrist, but his freed hand didn't retract. Instead, with undeniable force, it pressed against her shoulder, slowly moving downwards, tracing the smooth lines of her back beneath her silk nightgown. (End of Chapter)