Chapter 622
The Final Breakthrough, the Female Sect Leader's Surrender
Seven days have passed.
For Shan Ying, these seven days felt as long as seven cycles of reincarnation.
During the day, she remained the meticulous deputy sect leader, urging her disciples to practice in the morning, handling sect affairs in the afternoon, and inspecting the armory at dusk.
She filled her time to the brim, moved more nimbly than ever before, and disciplined more severely than usual, trying to suppress the strangeness that lurked in the shadows day and night with extreme physical exhaustion and absolute mental focus.
However, as night deepens and people disperse, and silence washes over them like a tide, everything that had been forcibly suppressed quietly resurfaces.
The stiffness in the old injury area has indeed lessened, and an unprecedented, light and clear feeling is subtly flowing through my limbs and bones. This is an undeniable effect of the treatment.
However, along with these achievements come more subtle and difficult-to-describe side effects.
My skin has become unusually sensitive; even the slightest friction from my linen undergarment can trigger a subtle alarm.
As I tossed and turned through the night, the cool bamboo mat beneath me seemed to still retain the faint warmth and touch of that night.
Even during the day, the sound of a disciple throwing a punch would momentarily distract her, reminding her of the wisp of air that brushed against her ear when his fingertips brushed against her earlobe.
The most disturbing thing is those hazy dreams.
Fragmented and indistinct.
There was no clear plot in the dream, only a faint temperature, a slow and gentle force, a certain sense of control that made one feel both tense and relaxed, and the intermittent, completely unfamiliar sighs escaping from her own lips.
Each time she woke up from such a dream, her breath was slightly disordered, her mind was unsettled, and she felt as if there was a void deep inside her, a faint throbbing, yearning for something to fill it.
Confusion, anxiety, and self-doubt entwine me like vines.
But beneath these layers of emotions, something more subtle and scorching, like an underground current, slowly and stubbornly surges forth.
She began to unconsciously pay attention to the subtle angles at which he exerted force during practice.
When alone, I unconsciously touch the parts of my body that I have previously been treated with acupressure, as if confirming something.
Even the slightest unusual noise outside the door would cause my heart to skip a beat, followed by a deeper sense of confusion.
On the evening of the seventh day, she ended her patrol ahead of schedule.
The afterglow of the setting sun bathed the courtyard of Heyi Gate in a warm gold, but it couldn't penetrate the uncertain and ambiguous area in her heart.
She knew that if he were to come, it would probably be tonight.
The intervention that day was not completely completed; he said it would take several more sessions.
Back in her own little courtyard, she stood in the center of the room, lost in thought for a moment.
My gaze swept over the neat bed and the cold copper basin. Everything was the same as it had been three days ago, yet it seemed completely different.
The air seemed to still hold a faint, lingering herbal scent, mixed with an indescribable tension.
A thought, like an undercurrent in the water, quietly surfaced in my mind.
She was startled by the thought and paused slightly, her back unconsciously pressing against the cold wall.
No, that's really inappropriate... that's almost a kind of...
But another voice, faint yet clear, echoed in her heart: What if he comes? Would she be completely passive again, like last time, and then toss and turn alone in this silence, unable to sleep, after he left? At least… at least this time, she could… be more composed. At least, she wouldn't have to be so stiff and awkward.
Once the thought arises, it quietly takes root.
Her breathing quickened slightly, and a faint blush rose to her face, a blush she herself was unaware of.
She walked to the wardrobe, paused for a moment, and then opened the door. Inside were several sets of plain-colored practice clothes and ordinary cloth skirts.
Her gaze lingered, finally settling on the bottommost layer, on a small cloth bag that had never been touched.
It was a gift from a wandering senior sister when Master was still alive, on her birthday one year.
She never opened it.
As if drawn by an invisible thread, she took out the cloth bag and untied it.
Inside was a set of soft, fine cotton undergarments, in a very pale moon white color, warm to the touch.
There was also a lighter, softer inner shirt in the same color.
The fabric was more delicate and smooth than what she usually wore.
These were not her usual clothes.
As if burned by something, she instinctively tried to put the thing back.
But his fingers stopped, gently gathering the soft fabric.
My heartbeat became somewhat erratic, and a feeling mixed with slight shyness and a kind of do-or-die determination quietly spread through me.
She pursed her lips, grabbed the clothes, took a clean cloth, and went to the back room.
There was a small bathing area there. She usually just used a wooden basin to wipe herself, but today she moved the screen in the corner, revealing a half-person-high cypress bath tub behind it.
The hot water is freshly boiled.
Silently, almost intently, she poured buckets of hot water into the bathtub, the steam gradually spreading and blurring her vision.
The water temperature was adjusted to a suitable level, and the warm steam quickly enveloped her.
She took off her outer garment and stood by the bathtub; her figure was somewhat indistinct in the misty water.
Those areas that were carefully dredged and pressed have long since returned to normal.
But she knew that something had quietly changed, something unseen and intangible, yet subtly affecting her.
She stepped into the bathtub, and the warm water gently washed over her body.
She submerged herself in the water, leaving only her shoulders above the surface, and closed her eyes.
The gentle ripples of water caressed my skin, bringing relaxation, yet strangely awakening fragments of memories.
The touch seemed to carry a certain rhythm and force, unlike the flow of water.
She stayed in the water for a long time, until her fingertips were slightly wrinkled, and the warmth brought a sense of relaxation that spread, and her tense heartstrings seemed to ease slightly.
She knew she was making preparations, a tacit, yet indescribable, kind of preparation.
Finally, she got up, making the sound of water.
I carefully dried my body with a cloth, the water droplets rolling over my delicate skin, leaving a slightly cool trace.
Then, she put on that moon-white fine cotton undergarment.
The soft fabric against the slightly warm skin brought a strange yet comforting sensation.
The material is more skin-friendly and softer than usual, and it is almost silent when moving.
The inner garment was also thin and fitted, subtly outlining her figure.
She had never dressed like this before, and felt a little uncomfortable; her cheeks flushed slightly.
In the blurry bronze mirror, a figure was reflected, with wet hair hanging down and eyes that seemed to shimmer with water, carrying a hint of barely perceptible confusion.
This is unlike my usual dignified self.
She hastily put on a plain, loose-fitting outer robe. The rough fabric temporarily concealed the difference inside, but the soft, close-fitting touch constantly reminded her of her deliberate actions.
She went to the outer room, without turning on the lights, letting the twilight gradually permeate the room.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her back straight, her hands folded on her knees, as if waiting for a predetermined moment, or as if holding the last line of defense.
Time passed slowly, and every moment was stretched out.
The sky outside the window grew completely dark, and the chirping of insects became more frequent.
She began to doubt her premonition, and started to feel that the action was unnecessary and awkward, and unease surged up again.
Perhaps he won't come at all, or perhaps the promise made that day was just a casual remark.
Just as she was about to give up and get up to change, *thump. thump. thump.*
Three knocks, neither too loud nor too soft, were steady and clear, falling into the silence and touching her heart.
She tensed up, as if blood rushed to her ears instantly.
The fingertips of the two fingers, which were crossed, were slightly cool.
It's really coming.
There was no sound or urging from outside the door; they simply waited quietly, as if certain that someone was inside and would respond.
Dan Ying's throat was dry, and she could barely speak.
She tried to stand up, but her legs felt weak.
A voice whispered in her heart: There's no need for that... But her body had already moved first, slowly standing up and silently moving to the door.
Her hand rested on the door latch, the icy touch bringing her slightly more awake.
Don't open it...
But when another firm, light knock came, that last bit of hesitation vanished.
She almost obediently and gently pulled off the latch.
The door hinges creaked softly as they opened inward.
Feng Yuxiu stood outside the door, still dressed in dark cloth, his figure as lean and strong as ever, seemingly blending into the night. Only his eyes, sharp as ever in the dim light, looked at her calmly.
His gaze lingered on her face for a moment, sweeping over her slightly damp temples, her blushing cheeks, and her eyes, misty with a hint of struggle and confusion.
Then, his gaze seemed to naturally drift downwards, sweeping over the vague outline beneath her loose outer robe, and... a section of smooth ankle peeking out from under the hem of the robe.
Dan Ying almost wanted to back away from his gaze. She subconsciously tried to pull her outer robe tighter, but her fingers twitched and finally fell to her side.
She smelled the familiar scent emanating from him, a scent that was a mixture of herbs and a certain crispness, and it made her feel slightly disoriented.
"Vice Sect Leader," he said, his voice low and steady, calm and even, as if stating a fact, "the time has come."
Dan Ying opened her mouth as if to respond, but only managed to utter a soft sound.
She stepped aside, her movements slightly stiff.
Feng Yuxiu stepped in, closed the door behind him, and the sound of the bolt hitting the door was particularly clear in the silence.
He didn't move immediately, but just stood there, his gaze falling on her again, this time with a scrutinizing quality, as if observing a certain state.
"Have you taken a bath?" he asked, his tone casual, but it made Shan Ying's cheeks flush even more.
She nodded, her eyelashes lowered.
"Hmm," he replied curtly, his tone unreadable. "A warm bath can soothe the muscles and promote the flow of qi. That's good."
He spoke so naturally, so clearly, as if her soft clothing and deliberate cleaning were merely to enhance the effect of the treatment.
"Go to the bed and lie face down." His instructions were clear and unquestionable, just like last time.
This time, Shan Ying did not hesitate. She silently walked to the bedside and steadily untied the sash of her outer robe.
The rough outer robe slipped to the ground with a soft thud.
The pale white cotton undergarment was exposed in the dim light; it was soft, loose, and fitted.
Her wet hair was draped over her shoulders.
With her back to him, she could feel his gaze sweeping over her calmly, like a doctor observing a patient's posture and muscle condition.
The soft fabric rubbed against her skin, providing a comfortable touch and helping her relax.
She did as instructed, climbed onto the bed, lay face down, turned her face to one side, and rested her head on her arm.
This posture allows the back muscles to stretch.
I heard his steady footsteps approaching from behind.
Then, the bed sank slightly, and he sat down.
No words were spoken. A warm, steady hand, with the thin calluses characteristic of a martial artist, landed directly on the center of her lower back, through the soft cotton fabric.
Dan Ying's body trembled slightly, but she quickly relaxed.
Even through the thin cotton, the warmth of his palm was clearly felt, steady and reassuring.
His hand began to move.
First, massage the lower back, then slowly push and press upwards along the bladder meridian on both sides of the spine.
The smoothness of the fine cotton combined with the stability of his palm created an effective medium. His strength remained precise, carrying internal power that penetrated the fabric, reaching deep into the skin and acupoints.
“Here,” he pressed his finger on an acupoint next to a vertebra, “the previous stagnation has been relieved, but the muscles are still not loose enough, and the flow of qi and blood is slightly sluggish.”
As he spoke, he applied pressure with his fingertips, using a special technique to knead and press down.
"Hmm..." Shan Ying let out a muffled groan.
That familiar tingling sensation returned, and because of the fabric, it felt longer and deeper. She could feel the slight warmth brought by the penetration of her internal energy.
His hand continued to wander, reaching the muscle knot below the shoulder blade.
This time, he pressed his palms together completely, slightly clenching them to gather the muscles and clothing together in his palms, slowly kneading and circulating his internal energy to dissolve the knots.
"Uh..." Shan Ying's breathing changed with the rhythm of her soreness.
The heat flowed along the path of his palm, through the meridians of his back, bringing waves of relief and relaxation.
The fabric glided gently between my palm and my skin.
"Relax." His voice rang out from above, still steady. "Tense muscles make it difficult for internal energy to penetrate deep."
She tried to exhale more deeply, allowing the muscles in her shoulders and back to relax further.
His guidance was meticulous and focused. His hand slid down her side waist, landing near acupoints such as Huantiao, where the waist and hips meet.
His thumb pressed down precisely, slowly and firmly rotating and pressing through the clothing.
"Ah..." Shan Ying couldn't help but gasp softly.
This was a strong stimulation! A tingling, numb sensation spread like ripples from the point of pressure. Her leg muscles twitched slightly involuntarily, a normal reaction to the stimulation of her meridians.
Feng Yuxiu's movements were professional and restrained. His gaze fell on the reaction of her legs, assessing the degree of unobstructed flow of her meridians.
He didn't speak, but simply moved his hand away and paused briefly.
Then, his palm fell again, this time covering the gallbladder meridian area on the outer side of her hip and thigh. Then, with a steady, stroking force, he pushed down along the meridian on the back of her leg.
"The meridians in the back of the legs need to be unobstructed to ensure a stable lower body," he explained in a steady voice.
Dan Ying felt the soreness and subsequent relaxation in her legs as the meridians were being unblocked. Her body naturally adjusted slightly according to his strength so that he could apply the force more effectively. This is a form of cooperation during treatment.
His technique always revolved around the meridians and muscle groups related to the old injury. His purpose was clear, and although there was some unavoidable soreness and discomfort during the process, he did not overstep the bounds in the slightest.
Time passed by with focused guidance.
Finally, his hand left her body.
"That's all for today." He stood up, his voice returning to its initial calm. "The main meridians affected by the old injury have been initially cleared, but further consolidation is still needed."
"I'm going to continue now. Next, we'll be doing a close-up massage. Take your clothes off."
Feng Yuxiu's eyes were calm and indifferent.
Shan Ying bit her lip and lowered her head, her cheeks flushed.
"Hmm~" (End of Chapter)