Huang Rong from The Return of the Condor Heroes: Brother Jing, let's get a divorce.

The three horses were not running fast on the official road.

The sun was high overhead, and its scorching rays pierced through the gaps in the leaves, leaving messy patches of light on the road.

Cheng Ying sat on the horse's back, her thighs aching from the chafing.

The rough saddle rubbed against her already sensitive skin repeatedly, and with each bounce, a soreness would bulge out from between her bones.

She had changed into a light green silk dress she had bought from a clothing store, with the neckline buttoned up very high and an additional neck warmer covering her skin from her collarbone to her chin.

Clothes can cover the outside, but not the inside.

Those bluish-purple marks pressed under the fabric, each one burning hot.

She regulated her breathing and tried to circulate her internal energy to suppress the restlessness, but found that the flow of true energy in her body was very different from yesterday.

After a night of circulating the Qi through the Qiankun Technique, Yang Guo's extremely powerful Yang energy left traces on the walls of her meridians, like silt left after a river recedes, clinging to the area around her Qi Sea and mixing with her originally pure Peach Blossom Island True Qi.

This residue doesn't harm her; on the contrary, it slowly expands the capacity of her meridians.

However, the price she pays is that every time she circulates her energy, it stirs up the remaining yang energy, bringing out a strange and inexplicable restlessness.

Yang Guo rode his horse on the far left, looking refreshed, casually tapping his boot with a riding whip in his hand.

His gaze would occasionally sweep over Cheng Ying's waist and hips, and he chewed a blade of grass slowly with a dangling morsel in his mouth.

"Miss Cheng, is this horse riding comfortably?" Yang Guo asked, his voice hoarse. "If you feel it's bumpy, my horse has a spacious back, come sit here. I'll put my arm around you, and I guarantee you won't feel any pain at all."

Cheng Ying tightened her grip on the reins. She looked straight ahead, her tone stiff: "Thank you for your concern, Headmaster Yang, I'm fine."

"Is it really that good?" Yang Guo tugged on the reins, and the black horse beneath him leaned closer to Cheng Ying, its head almost touching her leg. "Your forehead is sweating, and your face is frighteningly pale. You used up so much of your inner energy to save me, and now you're so weak. Forcing yourself to ride a horse for too long will easily damage your constitution."

Hearing the sound, Lu Wushuang, who was walking ahead, pulled on the reins and waited.

She turned to look at Cheng Ying, her face full of worry: "Cousin, my husband is right, you do look unwell. Why don't we find a place to rest? There's a grove of trees and a stream not far ahead."

Cheng Ying wanted to refuse.

But as soon as she opened her mouth, the saddle jolted again, and that soreness returned.

Her lips twitched, but she didn't say anything.

Yang Guo didn't give her a chance to object.

"Listen to Wushuang, let's rest for a while." He flicked his whip and sped ahead. "I'll go see if there's any game to improve the meals for the two beauties."

Lu Wushuang cheered and spurred his horse to follow.

Cheng Ying was left behind.

As she watched Yang Guo's broad back appear and disappear in the shade of the trees ahead, her mind was in turmoil.

She had calculated it.

Before giving herself to him last night, she weighed the pros and cons of every move.

A life-saving grace, a clear conscience, a stepping stone to recognition, and the benefit of inner strength.

She felt that these four things were enough for her to stand firm in this relationship.

The results of it?

After daybreak, Yang Guo thwarted her entire scheme with the line, "You took advantage of my unconsciousness and slept with me."

She originally wanted to be the creditor, but when she woke up, she realized that she was the one who owed the debt.

Yang Guo never does things the way that is expected.

She should have known this sooner. But knowing it is one thing, and falling into it is another.

Once they reached the woods, the three dismounted.

Lu Wushuang ran to the stream to wash her face and hands, took off her boots, and waded barefoot into the shallow water to retrieve stones. She had been running around all night, but now that she was resting, she was full of energy, still muttering that she wanted to learn the One-Finger Divine Skill.

Yang Guo did not go to the stream.

He circled the edge of the woods and returned carrying two pheasants he had just shot down.

The pheasant was struck with the force of the One-Finger Divine Skill.

Cheng Ying noticed that each of the two pheasants had a scorched hole the size of a fingernail on its neck, with charred edges that went through the neck bone.

With each flick of his fingers, he did not startle any other birds in the nearby trees.

The fifth-grade One-Finger Divine Skill is solidified yet not scattered, gathered yet not overflowing. This level of mastery has improved even further compared to yesterday.

Cheng Ying was secretly amazed.

Yang Guo cleaned the chicken by the stream and built a fire with dry branches. The oil dripped onto the charcoal, sizzling, and the aroma of the meat quickly spread.

He roasted the chicken very carefully, occasionally sprinkling a handful of wild pepper leaves, which he had picked from who-knows-where, onto the chicken skin.

Cheng Ying sat on a flat bluestone, her legs together, her hands on her knees, and her back straight.

She tried her best to look dignified, like the posture she would adopt when practicing the piano on Peach Blossom Island.

But that discomfort was deep inside my body, and it would be brought out every time I changed my sitting posture.

"Here, have some water first." Yang Guo handed her a leather water pouch.

Cheng Ying took the water and drank a sip. The water was cold, freshly drawn from the stream, and its chill made her teeth ache as it went down her throat.

She had just put down the water pouch when she realized that Yang Guo hadn't left.

He sat down on the grass next to her, one leg bent, his arm resting on his knee. The distance between them was less than a foot.

"Cheng Ying".

Cheng Ying gripped the strap of the water bag tightly.

Yang Guo lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear it.

"There's no one else here, you don't need to pretend so hard."

"I wasn't pretending."

"You weren't this cold last night."

Yang Guo reached out and picked up a dry branch from beside the fire, slowly poking at the embers.

His profile was illuminated by flickering firelight, and his usual carefree demeanor was somewhat diminished, replaced by a scrutinizing gaze that made Cheng Ying extremely uncomfortable.

"When you were clinging to my neck, your voice trembling, begging me to be gentle, why didn't you remember that you were the last disciple of Peach Blossom Island?"

Cheng Ying almost spat out her water.

She whirled around, her eyes blazing with anger: "Yang Guo! Shut up!"

"Why should I shut up?" Yang Guo poked a dry branch into the fire, sending a few embers flying, which landed on his sleeve. He didn't even bother to brush them off. "You saved my life, that's a fact. I slept with you, that's also a fact. You feel ashamed because you're still holding onto that pride."

He turned his head and looked at Cheng Ying.

"The day you kneel at my feet and beg me for mercy, you won't feel ashamed anymore."

"You're dreaming." Cheng Ying gritted her teeth.

Yang Guo was not annoyed.

He threw the half-burnt branch into the fire and dusted off his hands.

"Whether you're dreaming or not, we'll see." His gaze lingered on Cheng Ying's collar for a moment. Cheng Ying instinctively raised her hand to cover her collar, but her movement was already too slow.

"I changed you into that undergarment myself. The red mark on your left waist was made by me. I remember clearly which part of your body is injured and which part I left."

He didn't utter a single word loudly, but every word struck Cheng Ying's weak spot.

Cheng Ying's fingers, gripping the water bladder strap, turned white.

She wanted to stand up and get away from this man.

She had just propped herself up on the stone surface when her wrist was grabbed.

Yang Guo's palms were broad and thick, and the temperature in his palms was very high, as the residual heat from the operation of the Qiankun Technique had not yet dissipated.

His five fingers gripped her wrist, not with much force, but enough to stop her from struggling.

He pulled hard.

Cheng Ying leaned forward, her knees buckled, and she fell into his arms.

Her shoulder bumped against his chest, her nose brushed against his collar, and she smelled a mixture of sweat and smoke.

"Let go!" Cheng Ying exclaimed in a low voice, her eyes quickly glancing towards the stream.

Lu Wushuang was bent over, feeling for stones in the water, counting to herself. With her back to him, she couldn't see anything.

Yang Guo's other hand was already around her waist.

"Go ahead and call her. Bring Wushuang over here and let her see how her most beloved cousin is sitting on her husband's lap right now."

Cheng Ying's body tensed. She dared not cry out, nor could she cry out.

Lu Wushuang's trust in her was based on the claim that "her cousin risked everything to save her husband."

If Lu Wushuang were to see this scene now, seeing her sitting in Yang Guo's lap, her clothes disheveled by his fingers, that argument would no longer hold water.

Yang Guo was certainly aware of this.

With his other hand, through the thin fabric of her long dress, he gripped the most sensitive spot on her waist and gave it a firm squeeze.

Cheng Ying let out a muffled groan.

Her hands were supporting Yang Guo's chest, her fingers bent twice, but she couldn't hold on and collapsed.

This is the aftereffect of the Qiankun Technique.

After dual cultivation, the woman's meridians will retain traces of the man's yang energy.

These marks will not fade in a short time, and will make the woman's body exceptionally sensitive to the man's scent.

From then on, whenever Yang Guo's hand touched those marks, she would involuntarily lose her resistance.

Cheng Ying had read records of this type of practice in the Peach Blossom Island Sutra Repository.

Huang Yaoshi criticized this technique as "the art of locking up slaves" in his annotations.

She didn't pay attention at the time.

Only then did she understand the weight of those four words.

She knew she had made a wrong decision last night.

She thought she was outsmarting Yang Guo, but from the moment she voluntarily unbuckled her belt, she had already handed over the reins.

Yang Guo never wanted her body.

What he wants is control.

"Yang Guo...please don't do this..." Cheng Ying's voice changed, carrying a hint of pleading.

"Which way?" Yang Guo nestled into the crook of her neck, greedily inhaling the faint scent of peach blossoms emanating from her. "Like this? Or like this?"