Unaware of the various powers playing “who is who” in the walls of his invaded soul, Xia Hu lay on his knees, dazed and unresponsive. Xinzi stood before him, and for a moment, the monk too didn’t move an inch. The awkward image of a feminized Xia Hu kneeling at Xinzi’s crotch with a hazy smile would have made potential spectators question the nature of their relationship. Xinzi’s large hands pressing Xia Hu’s shoulders down didn’t help the case.

Soon enough, Xinzi left Xia Hu’s soul and returned to his body. His glassy eyes regained their light, and his brows wrinkled at the peculiar pose they lay in.

“Huh...a moment to immortalize, I suppose,” Xinzi said, tapped his storage ring, and summoned a recording mirror to capture the image with. That done, our monk let go of his latest victim and shifted to his grand formation. Up in the sky, the ball of crystalized Sword Qi hardened and morphed into a perfect longsword.

Crystal-blue, yet sparkling with a shine fit for a king’s regalia, the sword united the 200 disciples’ insight into a single force. Granted, it couldn’t compete with Lord Hanxing’s peak Nascent Soul achievements, it was more than enough to fight across realms and fit Xinzi’s purposes. On the other side of the spectrum, having lost the supply of Spiritual Sense, Xia Hu’s Yang Doll malfunctioned—losing control of the sword orbs, which floated alongside the inert puppet like luminous balls of energies.

The monk extended his hands, his Spiritual Sense connected to the sword orbs, adding their might and insight to his already dreadful sword. Meanwhile, golden threads of Yang Qi poured out of Xinzi’s abdomen, melding with the crystal sword and setting it ablaze with swirling tongues of bright-gold flames. Perfected at last, the flaming sword raced towards Xinzi’s crotch, bypassing his monastic garb to merge with the other meat-sword in his pants. The Yang Sword thus took shape.

This level-skipping tool would not only act as a foundation for the Yin-Yang Sword Array, but it’d also enable Xinzi to overpower higher level female sheaths with torrential waves of Yang Qi. Picturing the future possibilities, our impious monk stroked his beardless chin, for a second forgetting about Xia Hu, whose eyes stirred as he battled the demonic haze Xinzi had infected him with.

The internal clash was short-lived. As resourceful as Xia Hu had become through Xue Yuanshao’s guidance, there was no way for such a low-level human cultivator to resist the demonic haze of Xinzi’s Mara Heart. To make matters worse, the more he struggled, the more absolute Xinzi’s control of Xia Hu’s will and emotional spectrum became.

Still, thanks to the waning bits of Celestial Rhythm powering his soul, Xia Hu snapped out of his comatose state. But instead of Xinzi and the Burning Hell Maze Array, the fem swordsman’s sight opened to a foreign scenery. There, a hulking figure stood amidst an ebony stone palace, staring from a balcony at a starless night sky. That figure donned a black, hooded monastic garb, but though Xia Hu could only see its back, a sense of familiarity struck him immediately.

Trapped in an illusory form powered by the Celestial Rhythm, Xia Hu stood up, ambling at the figure to catch a glimpse of its looks—he wouldn’t have the opportunity.

The figure arched its head back, droplets of ash-colored tears trickled down its half-covered face, catching Xia Hu off-guard. Knowledge wise, the fem swordsman didn’t dare compare himself to the likes of Xinzi, but with an ancient expert such as Xue Yuanshao to guide him, he still had a solid understanding of nature’s laws.

Mysterious Beasts and Demons both possessed a large variety of blood colors, but in the latter’s case, said colors also manifested through their tears and mirrored the very essence of their bloodlines. With that knowledge in mind, it didn’t take a genius to realize that the figure standing before Xia Hu was either a demon, or worse, a devil of the Infernal Paradise!

The figure’s lips parted, speaking words that, for one reason or another, Xia Hu couldn’t hear. Yet, despite the lack of communication, the fem swordsman could feel the blend of sorrow, helplessness and rage igniting that person’s heart. Four nuns emerged from dark-purple vortexes, kneeling at the figure’s back.

Dark lightning crackled across the sky; baleful winds swept through the land, dislodging towns and corrupting cities as their fell energies pervaded the collapsing world.

“You were correct. Having come this far, why not take the final step? Tusha, Miejue, Haoyou, Nieyuan, I...agree.” At last, Xia Hu could hear the figure’s voice. Just like its back, the voice seemed familiar, yet so different that he couldn’t put a name on it. The figure’s lips curled up. The ashen tears dried on its chalky cheeks, and the most horrifying aura Xia Hu had ever confronted erupted in full force.

It was as if Heaven itself rejected that force, condemned its existence and demanded that it vanished from the world. But vanish it would not. The foulest energies of the Great Desolation world gathered at that figure’s fingertips, pushing its corrupt cultivation base to unknown realms.

“But make no mistake, I refuse to shoulder the hopes and dreams of one Paradise alone. No—all three in one, all bound to my Will. Till the Saints perish, Heaven and Hell submit, and my Will supplants the Primordial Source, I...refuse to stop,” the figure said, and the four nuns prostrated themselves at its heels—then became orbs of dark-purple flames that embroiled the monastic figure to burn down the last traces of something he no longer needed, and help him ascend beyond all lifeform tiers.

The Celestial Rhythm broke here and, back in the real world, Xinzi snapped his fingers, forcing Xia Hu out of his trance. Dazed and terrified, Xia Hu stared at Xinzi, mouth agape and eyes wide open.

“Awake at last?” Xinzi started, but once he noticed the abnormal look Xia Hu stared at him with, the monk furrowed his brows—tilting his head somewhat. “Huh? What’s wrong with you? Overwhelmed by my grand swagger? Took so many punches that you can no longer think straight? Or is it that my oozing Yang Qi is making a mess of your hormones? Control yourself sis, even if you drool at my feet and beg for my rod, I am not screwing you,” Xinzi said, then realized that he’d screwed Xia Hu on more than one occasion—albeit figuratively.

In other circumstances, Xinzi’s jokes would have provoked a strong reaction from Xia Hu.

This time though, he stayed in the same pose—almost as if the words had flown by his ears. Aware that the Celestial Rhythm enabled those that unlocked it to connect to the weaves of fate, Xinzi inferred that Xia Hu had seen things that scared the life out of him, and shook his head in disapproval.

If fate was to be trusted, Rong Suishan would be dead, and the sect would currently be hooting Xia Hu’s victorious name. Fate was a tool created by primordial entities to control the masses. The higher a lifeform’s rank, the deeper their cultivation base, and the more changeable their fate became. For these reasons, granted that he valued the insight it provided, Xinzi wasn’t that concerned about fate.

“Up,” Xinzi said, and driven by an impulse he couldn’t resist, Xia Hu leaped from the ground—standing erect like a toy soldier.

“Down.” Following the order to the letter, Xia Hu lay on the ground, not moving an inch.

“Twirl.”

“Twerk.”

“Wiggle and giggle.”

Against his best judgment, the fem swordsman twirled and shook that rump, giggling and swaying for reasons he couldn’t comprehend. Xinzi’s words echoed like sovereign commands that Xia Hu’s body surrendered to completely. And now aware of the predicament that Xinzi’s pink haze had put him into, Xia Hu lost his shit.

“Bastard monk! Stop this at once!” Xia Hu barked between two laughs, yet shook his generous rump all the same.

“See? Your current problem is that I own your ass. Dozing off on your first day is not how you build a strong work relationship with your boss. Xia Hu, you’ve disappointed me. But don’t worry, I have a big heart and am fully prepared to give you a second chance.”

“You!”

“Mememem—shut up. Xia Hu, your life is a burlesque play.

Nature didn’t bless you with cultivation talent, so Heaven granted you towering good fortune.

Nature gave you outstanding looks. Heaven topped that with riveting beauties, then put Xinzi on your path.

In one way or another, your gifts become curses, and it is now abundantly clear that all your life, you’ve been on the wrong side of Heaven. What’s so wrong about giving it all up to embrace the right side of hell? Fear not. With me to guide the ship of your existence, you can avoid all troubles and sail through this world with zero difficulty. I only ask three things of you: cultivate, fight, and be a cuck—all things you’re doing already. A fair deal, isn’t it?”

Xinzi’s high-spirited voice rattled Xia Hu’s ears. Alas, the fem swordsman had to admit that, regardless of what move he put forth, he couldn’t turn this one around. Just like Tusha before him, Xinzi had total ownership of Xia Hu and could do with his mind and body as he saw fit. The whole “surrender to me” game was just that, a game.

“Xinzi, you might have won the fight, but unless I see Chun Xu offer herself to you, I will not...wait, what are you doing?!” To Xia Hu’s horror, Xinzi summoned a body bag from his storage ring and motioned for the fem swordsman to settle within.

“Helping you be honest and giving you a proper welcome,” Xinzi said. Unable to resist Xinzi’s will, Xia Hu walked straight towards the bag and wrapped himself in its confines. Satisfied, our monk hoisted Xia Hu up his shoulder, and while whistling a merry tune, deactivated the formation.

As the bag closed on him, Xia Hu caught a glimpse of Xinzi’s side. That same familiar feeling returned, and the fem swordsman’s heart skipped a beat.