The celebration of the Ju Tribe roared on outside, a cacophony of drunken cheers, beating drums, and the crackle of bonfires. The air smelled of roasted lamb and spilled spirits, the scent of victory before the war had even begun.
I sat alone in my yurt, isolated from the revelry by layers of thick felt and a silence I had cultivated myself.
My domain was not the banquet hall.
I had arranged my environment with meticulous precision. The tiger-skin rug was laid flat. On a low table, my tools were laid out in a gleaming row: silver needles of varying gauges, a scalpel I had forged from a shard of cold iron, and a small bronze brazier filled with charcoal that was currently unlit.
In the center of the table sat a wooden box. Inside was the Rank 4 Yang Stag Horn.
It was a gnarled, golden protrusion, radiating a heat so intense it distorted the air above it. My father had gifted it to me as a supreme tonic, unaware that for my specific physiology, consuming it raw would be akin to swallowing a live coal while trapped in a sealed room.
Current Status: Rank 1 Initial Stage.
Pathology: Congenital Yang Blockage.
Objective: Surgical intervention to induce a Yang reintegration.
I stripped off my heavy robes, leaving my upper body bare. The air in the tent was warm, but my skin felt feverish, the trapped Yang energy beneath the surface crying out for release.
"The Stag Horn provides the fuel," I murmured, my voice barely a breath. "But physics dictates that pressure flows from high to low. My internal pressure is too high. I need a vacuum. I need a massive source of Yin to pull the blockage open."
I picked up the scalpel. I intended to bleed myself, to lower the pressure manually before ingesting the horn. It was a crude method, with a 40% chance of meridian damage, but I had no other options.
Buzz.
The vibration started deep in my abdomen.
My aperture trembled. The Dog Shit Luck Gu, which had been dormant since the refinement, suddenly woke up.
It wasn't a gentle hum. It was a frantic, oscillating screech that resonated against my ribs.
Signal detected.
I froze, the scalpel hovering over my wrist.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation. The Gu wasn't just warning me; it was communicating data through the medium of instinct.
Danger? No.
Treasure? Yes.
Direction? Above.
"Something is coming," I whispered. "Something... valuable."
I extinguished the oil lamps with a wave of my hand. The yurt plunged into darkness, save for the faint red glow of the unlit charcoal and the sliver of moonlight piercing through the smoke hole.
I waited. My breathing slowed to a metabolic crawl, a technique I had mastered in my previous life to steady my hands during microsurgery.
Three... two... one.
There was no sound of tearing fabric. There was only a subtle shift in air pressure.
The heavy felt of the roof parted silently. A shadow detached itself from the night and dropped into my room.
Gravity seemed to have no hold on the intruder. They landed on the tiger-skin rug with the lightness of a falling leaf.
I watched from the shadows of the corner.
It was a figure clad in tight-fitting black leathers, designed for stealth and mobility. A mask covered the lower half of their face. The figure moved with liquid grace, ignoring me completely, heading straight for the table.
Straight for the Yang Stag Horn.
Target identified: Thief. Objective: Theft of resources.
But as the thief reached for the box, the air in the room changed.
A crushing pressure descended. It wasn't the clumsy aura of a mortal warrior. It was dense, refined, and terrifyingly heavy.
Rank 4 Primeval Essence pressure.
My body creaked under the strain. My heart rate spiked—adrenaline release, fight or flight—but my mind remained cold.
A Rank 4 theft ? Here? Why is the pressureso strong ? Impossible. Unless...
The thief's hand touched the golden horn.
"Nngh..."
A gasp of pure, unadulterated agony tore from the intruder's throat.
The terrifying Rank 4 pressure vanished instantly, replaced by something far worse.
The temperature in the yurt plummeted. Frost raced across the floorboards, climbing the legs of the table. The water in the washbasin froze solid with a sharp crack.
The thief collapsed. She—the voice was undeniably female—fell to her knees, clutching her chest.
Her skin began to glow. It wasn't a reflection. It was an internal luminescence. Her flesh turned translucent, revealing the silver network of veins beneath. She looked less like a human and more like a ghost carved from moonlight.
I stepped out of the shadows, the scalpel spinning idly in my fingers.
"Fascinating," I said, my voice cutting through the freezing air.
The thief jerked her head up. Her eyes were exposed—liquid silver, dilated with pain and terror.
"You..." she wheezed, her breath forming crystals in the air. "Help..."
I didn't attack. I observed.
Symptoms: Systemic meridian freezing. Essence backlash. Epidermal translucency. Extreme hypothermia without environmental cause.
"You are overdosing on Yin Qi," I diagnosed, walking closer. The cold was biting, but the raging fire inside my own body found it pleasant. "The full moon has triggered a resonance. You broke in to steal the Yang Stag to suppress it, didn't you?"
She tried to mobilize a Gu worm. A silver light flickered in her palm—a Moon Blade Gu—but it shattered instantly, unable to form. Her essence was frozen solid.
"I... I am Yue Yin..." she chattered, her body curling into a fetal position. "Give me... the horn..."
"You can't use it," I stated flatly. "You are Rank 4, but your physique is currently detonating. If you consume that Yang energy raw, your Yin-heavy body will reject it. You will suffer total organ failure and explode in approximately three minutes."
I stood over her.
"I am Ju Yang. And I have the exact opposite problem."
I placed a hand on my chest. "My Yang is locked. You are drowning in Yin."
A realization hit me, triggered by the frantic buzzing of the Dog Shit Luck Gu.
This is the treasure.
This wasn't an assassin. This was a donor.
"Yue Yin," I said, crouching down to touch her. "We are two halves of a broken equation."
She looked at me with despair. "My Ancestor's will... he will kill you..."
"Your ancestor?"
Before I could process the statement, a blinding blue light erupted from the center of her forehead.
It didn't illuminate the room; it warped it. The space twisted. A silhouette materialized above her prone body.
It was a Will. A remnant of a strong man left behind to guard a bloodline.
The figure wore strange, mechanical armor over ancient Daoist robes. Half his face was covered by a mask that seemed to be both crying and laughing.
Thieving Heaven Demon Venerable.
My heart stopped.
The novel was real. She is his descendant.
The Will floated there, suspended in time. It looked down at Yue Yin, then turned its gaze to me.
It didn't speak with sound. It bypassed the auditory nerve and spoke directly to the consciousness.
"A serendipitous meeting."
The voice was tired, cynical, yet laced with a strange amusement.
"A boy with a soul from another world, holding the scalpel on fate."
He knew. Of course he knew. He was an Otherworldly Demon too.
I stood my ground, though every instinct screamed at me to run.
"Don't panic, traveler," Thieving Heaven's Will echoed in my skull. "I am but a ghost. My descendant, Yue Yin, has awakened the Desolate Ancient Moon Physique. It is a curse of fate on our blood to remove any trace of me. She needs a stabilizer. You need a catalyst."
The Will pointed a spectral finger at the Dog Shit Luck Gu in my aperture.
"You possess the intuition of the luck as fate had willed it . Good. I cannot save her. Only a living vessel of pure Yang can."
The Will leaned closer, the pressure immense.
"Save her. Take her as your wife. Shield her from the Heavens that despise our kind. In exchange, I grant you the mask you need to hide your otherworldly trace from Fate Gu."
Killer Move: [Deceive Heaven's Secret].
A stream of information flooded my cortex. It wasn't a technique I had to learn; it was a modification to my very soul. It settled over me like a cold, invisible shroud.
The feeling of being watched—a sensation I hadn't realized was there until it was gone—vanished. Fate Gu lost its suspicion on me.
"The transaction is complete," the Will faded, dissolving back into the blue light. "Do not disappoint me, the future venrable."
The light vanished.
Yue Yin groaned, her consciousness fading as the cold consumed her heart.
I stood there, panting, the echo of the Venerable's voice ringing in my ears.
"Transaction accepted," I whispered.
I looked at the dying thief on my floor. She was beautiful in a haunting way, like a statue made of ice and sorrow.
"Well then, Yue Yin," I said, picking up the Yang Stag Horn and tossing it into the unlit brazier. "Let's begin the treatment."
I snapped my fingers, using a tiny Charcoal Fire Gu to ignite the brazier.
The Yang Stag Horn didn't burn like wood. It sizzled, releasing a thick, golden smoke that smelled of musk, testosterone, and raw vitality.
"Breathe," I ordered, lifting her head.
She was too weak.
I inhaled deeply. The golden smoke filled my lungs. It felt like swallowing liquid fire. It rushed through my bloodstream, slamming into the blockage at my groin like a battering ram.
Pain. Exquisite, burning pain.
My aperture boiled. The Yang gate cracked.
I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers.
I forced the Yang-infused smoke from my lungs into hers.
Resuscitation.
Her body convulsed. Her silver eyes snapped open as the fire entered her system.
The reaction was chemical. Violent. Inevitable.
Her Rank 4 Initial light golden Essence, normally freezing, latched onto the Yang smoke. But it wasn't enough. Her physique was a black hole; it needed a sun.
She grabbed my shoulders. Her hands were freezing, burning my skin with cold, but the contact completed the circuit.
The Yin-Yang Interaction began.
"You..." she gasped, staring at me with a mix of confusion and biological desperation. "Heat... I need... heat..."
"I am the heat," I growled, my rationality slipping as the primitive brain took over. "And you are the ice."
I stripped off the rest of my robes.
"Treatment is in session," I whispered.
The lock on my lower body shattered completely. The Giant Sun awakened, angry and starving after fifteen years of dormancy.
She didn't resist. She couldn't. Her body recognized mine not as a man, but as a survival mechanism. She pulled me down, wrapping her freezing limbs around my burning torso.
The collision of Ice and Fire shook the yurt.
I tore away the last of her black leathers with clinical efficiency, exposing skin that glowed faintly silver under the moonlight. Her breasts were full and firm, nipples hardened to dark points from the cold and the sudden influx of heat. Her waist tapered sharply, hips flaring into powerful thighs that clamped around me like a vice. Between her legs, her vagina was already slick—her Yin essence manifesting as a cool, viscous dew that glistened like mercury.
No time for foreplay. This was treatment.
I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock—now fully engorged, veins bulging gold from yang stags effects—pressing against her icy folds. The contrast was immediate agony: her chill burned me, my heat scorched her. She hissed, nails raking bloody furrows down my back, but her hips bucked upward instinctively.
I drove in with one precise thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
The sensation was indescribable. Her inner walls were a frozen tunnel, contracting violently around my shaft as if trying to crush the invading warmth. Yet the moment my Yang essence flooded her depths, her Yin surged back—silver threads of energy racing up my length, into my meridians, tempering the raw fire that had been trapped for years.
I groaned, the sound torn from my throat. Every nerve ending lit up. My cock throbbed inside her, the pressure of fifteen years' denial turning each pulse into a hammer blow.
"Meridians... align," I rasped, forcing my mind back to procedure. I pressed two fingers to the acupoint below her navel—Huiyin, the meeting place of Yin channels—and channeled a thin stream of primeval essence downward, guiding it along her Conception Vessel. The silver light in her veins brightened, responding.
Her body arched, breasts pressing against my chest. "More... deeper..."
I complied, withdrawing almost fully before slamming back in, angling to strike the sensitive ridge inside her. Each thrust pushed more Yang smoke and essence into her core, melting the frozen blockages in her dantian. Frost cracked and fell from her skin like shedding armor.
The feedback loop ignited.
Her Yin essence poured into me in waves—cool, liquid moonlight flooding my Sea of premival essence , washing over the raw edges of my aperture. It hurt, then soothed, then ignited new pleasure centers I hadn't known existed. The appreture walls cracked and melted My cultivation base surged: Rank 1 Initial → Middle →high → Peak in heartbeats. The grean essence glowed brighter and the color became deeper inside my appreture.
I gripped her hips, lifting her off the rug so I could thrust harder, deeper. Her legs locked around my waist, heels digging into my ass, urging me on. Her silver eyes locked on my golden ones—despair replaced by feral hunger.
"You... feel... like salvation," she moaned, voice breaking. Her inner walls fluttered, clamping down rhythmically, milking me with deliberate precision. Rank 4 control, even in extremis.
I leaned down, biting the side of her neck—hard enough to draw blood, marking her as mine. The copper taste mixed with the musk of her arousal. I licked the wound, tasting moonlight and frost.
"Take it all," I commanded, voice hoarse. "Every drop of Yang. Temper your physique. Become mine."
She cried out—a raw, animal sound—as I drove into her again and again. My balls slapped against her ass, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet yurt. Each collision sent sparks of pleasure-pain through us both. Her Yin essence coiled around my shaft like silk chains, pulling my release closer while simultaneously refining my body: meridians widening, bones densifying, aperture expanding.
The pressure built to critical.
I felt her climax first—her body seizing, inner walls spasming in violent waves, silver essence exploding outward in a freezing gush that coated my cock and thighs. She screamed silently, mouth open, eyes rolling back as her Desolate Ancient Moon Physique finally stabilized, the black-hole hunger sated for the first time.
The surge triggered mine.
I buried myself as deep as possible, hips grinding against hers, and erupted.
Thick ropes of golden cum—infused with pure Yang essence—flooded her womb. The heat of it seared her from the inside, sealing cracks in her meridians, igniting dormant Yang channels in her own body. My release triggered a second wave in her: she convulsed again, nails drawing fresh blood, legs trembling uncontrollably.
We rode the feedback loop together, cultivation bases skyrocketing in tandem. My aperture stabilized at Rank 1 Peak, nearing Rank 2 Her Rank 4 aura softened and increased to middle stage, no longer a threat to implode.
When the storm passed, we collapsed together on the tiger-skin rug, sweat-slick and trembling.
Her breathing steadied first. She looked at me with new eyes—not terror, not gratitude, but possession.
"You... saved me," she whispered, fingers tracing the golden veins on my chest.
"And you broke my chains," I replied, voice clinical once more. "The procedure was successful."
I pulled out slowly, watching golden-tinged essence leak from her swollen sex onto the furs. The sight stirred a fresh pulse of arousal, but my mind was already analyzing.
Vital signs: stable.
Physique: harmonized.
Next step: secure the asset. Bind her to the Ju Tribe. Extract her knowledge of Thieving Heaven's inheritance.
I smiled into her silver hair.
It's the beginning of everything.
We started a night of debauchery till morning