Gu Yanqing led Lin Zhixue down the corridor and pushed open the door to the wing room where he took his medicinal baths.
The steam inside had not yet completely dispersed, leaving the air heavy with a pungent medicinal aroma. The water from the tub had already been cleared away, leaving only a few puddles and streaks of dampness on the floor.
Propped against the corner was a newly fetched demon beast hide whip. Its black length was coiled into a loop, the handle polished smooth from use.
Standing by the doorway, he was already starting to regret this.
When he had brought it up back by the herb field, it hadn't seemed all that improper—after all, it was for the sake of cultivation, completely open and aboveboard.
Now that she had actually followed him into the room, with the door closed, his back turned to her, and an artifact spirit floating beside her looking ready to explode with indignation, the atmosphere felt utterly bizarre no matter how one looked at it.
Lin Zhixue stood by the door, her hands clasped in front of her, unsure where to rest her gaze.
Her expression appeared reasonably calm, but her fingers unconsciously fidgeted with the cuffs of her sleeves, clearly betraying her apprehension.
Xiaoyu floated beside her with arms crossed over its chest.
Its tiny face was pulled tight, emerald-green eyes glaring fixedly at Gu Yanqing, looking at him as if he were a beast that might reveal its true colors at any moment.
“How much force should I use?” Lin Zhixue asked.
Gu Yanqing recalled what was recorded in the 《Nine Revolutions Body Tempering Technique》 and explained the key points.
The whipping wasn't meant to be wild lashes; it had to fall rhythmically across the shoulders, back, flanks, and torso. Each strike needed to carry a trace of spiritual energy, with the force strictly controlled to break the skin without damaging the sinews or bones.
Too light, and it wouldn't achieve the body tempering effect; too heavy, and it would injure the meridians.
The manual had laid it out in meticulous detail, and he remembered every word without error.
With that said, he turned around and unfastened his upper garment, exposing his bare torso.
After four medicinal bath temperings, his physique was significantly more solid than when he had first transmigrated. The lines across his shoulders and back were taut, his arms possessed defined musculature, and his skin still bore a faint reddish hue from being scalded by the medicinal broth.
Lin Zhixue's gaze lingered on his shoulders and back for a fleeting instant before darting away, dropping to stare at the floor tiles beside her feet.
Xiaoyu darted in front of her, its voice sharp and shrill. “Why did you take your clothes off?!”
Gu Yanqing turned a deaf ear.
Picking up the demon beast hide whip from the corner, he turned to offer it to Lin Zhixue, then took his stance in the center of the room with his back to her.
He only wanted to get this started and finished as quickly as possible. If he dragged this out for even a second longer, he feared he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face.
Lin Zhixue took the whip.
The handle still retained the warmth of Gu Yanqing's palm. Tightening her grip, she took a deep breath and stepped behind him.
She had never looked at a man's body from such close proximity. The contours of his shoulder blades were clearly visible beneath his skin, gently rising and falling with his steady breaths.
Her gaze traced from his shoulders to his waist, down to the taut lines of his back, her heart racing faster than when she had broken through to the sixth level of Qi Refining.
Biting her lip, she suppressed every stray thought in her head, forcing her eyes to fixate solely between his shoulder blades.
Raising the whip, she flicked her wrist. The black leather cut through the air, landing on his shoulder and back with a crisp crack.
The force behind the lash wasn't overly heavy, but it was certainly not light either. A red welt immediately surfaced where the whip struck.
Beside her, Xiaoyu shut its mouth.
The usually talkative artifact spirit now floated silently in midair, barely even making a sound.
Looking at the red welt rising on Gu Yanqing's back, then shifting its gaze to the unprecedented flush on Lin Zhixue's face, its emerald-green eyes blinked, as if having stumbled upon something extraordinary.
It said nothing, not even throwing out another curse of “pervert.” It simply drifted aside in silence, making room for Lin Zhixue to swing the whip.
A second lash. A third.
Lin Zhixue's strikes gradually grew heavier, each lash landing in a different spot—shoulders, back, flanks—unhurried yet steady.
“Should I keep going?” she asked.
Gu Yanqing gritted his teeth. “Keep going.”
Reaching over, he grabbed a dry towel from the nearby table, clamped it between his teeth, and gripped the edge of the table tightly.
Several more lashes fell.
Not a single patch of unblemished skin remained on his back. Lashes crisscrossed in a chaotic web, older welts turning inflamed while fresher ones seeped blood, cloaking his entire back like a crimson spiderweb.
The medicinal potency seeped deep into his muscle fibers through the open cuts. The searing burning and tearing pain intertwined, and with every breath he took, he could feel his flesh quivering.
This was the most critical stage of body tempering.
The old skin was broken by the whip, stimulating the regenerative potential of the torn muscles. Combined with the residual medicinal broth repairing him from within, the newly formed skin would become over thirty percent tougher than before within three days.
The pain was excruciating, but the results were undeniable.
“Turn around,” Lin Zhixue said.
Biting down on the towel, Gu Yanqing turned to face her.
The skin across his chest was far more intact than his back, marked only by a few faint red patches left behind by the earlier medicinal baths.
Lin Zhixue's gaze darted rapidly from his collarbones down to his abdomen before jerking away as if scalded.
Taking a deep breath, she raised the whip once more.
The first strike struck his left shoulder. The second lashed his right ribs. The third...
Floating in midair, Xiaoyu shifted its gaze from the whip marks on Gu Yanqing to Lin Zhixue's face.
It could tell that Zhixue was different from before.
When she had first entered the room, she had been nervous and hesitant, her hand trembling as she held the whip.
Now, standing before him, her strikes were steady and precise. Her lips were slightly pursed, and an unreadable emotion flickered within her amber eyes.
It wasn't fear.
It was something indistinct and indescribable—intense, focused, and profoundly deep.
Clamping down on the towel, cold sweat drenched Gu Yanqing's forehead.
He felt as though the whip was growing more and more painful.
It probably wasn't that the force had increased, but rather that his body was becoming more sensitive.
Or perhaps he was simply too tense.
His physical sensations were amplified, making him perceive an increase in pain.
“Zhixue... you...”
Before Xiaoyu could finish, another lash cracked down, swift and decisive.
Lin Zhixue clearly hadn't heard it; her entire focus was locked onto the whip in her hand.
Just then, the door was pushed open.
“Young Master Gu, I just heard—”
Jiang Yinglan stood in the doorway.
She saw Gu Yanqing biting down on a towel, his chest and torso covered in bloody welts.
Lin Zhixue stood before him, whip in hand.
The two stood face-to-face, the distance between them ambiguously close, the entire room still ringing with the faint echoes of cracking leather.
Her words choked in her throat. The casual expression on her face froze, then flushed crimson, heat spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
“...I didn't see anything!” With a resounding bang, she slammed the door shut, her hurried footsteps fading rapidly into the distance.
The air in the room remained frozen for three full breaths.
Xiaoyu was the first to react, floating in midair and doubled over with laughter.
“Pfft... Hahahaha!”
It laughed so hard it couldn't even speak properly, clutching its stomach and bobbing back and forth as its pale-green spiritual body flickered and glowed.
Spitting out the towel, Gu Yanqing snatched his robe from the side and threw it over himself.
Fastening his sash, he turned to Lin Zhixue. “Hurry, come with me to explain!”
Lin Zhixue was still holding the whip, her fingers trembling slightly.
The scene that had just unfolded spun circles in her mind.
Why was that woman in red here? Did she come to find him?
He wasn't even dressed, yet she pushed the door right open.
Just what was between them...? Never mind.
Blushing, she set the whip down in the corner and whispered, “Okay.”
Xiaoyu floated out behind her, still giggling the entire way. Yet amidst its laughter, it suddenly cast a meaningful glance at Lin Zhixue, a knowing curve tugging at the corners of its mouth.
It said nothing, only letting out a soft hum before following her down the corridor.
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