Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Inside Longriver Sect’s main hall, incense smoke curled through the air—but the killing intent was even thicker.
I was being forced down against the freezing stone floor, my wrists chafed raw by blacksteel chains. The sect elders stood in a grim semicircle, their faces dark as they accused me of being a demonic cultivator who had infiltrated the Orthodox Path.
“You wicked creature!” the First Elder roared, flinging out his sleeve. Spiritual power gathered in his palm, ready to strike. “How dare you deceive your masters? We cannot let you live!”
And then, just as his hand was about to fall, a figure in white flashed into the hall like a streak of light.
The clear ring of a drawn blade shattered the dead silence.
Julian Vale stepped in front of me, spirit sword leveled at the elders, his voice so cold it cut deeper than steel. “Who dares touch her?”
Moon-pale light seemed to cling to him, but there was nothing gentle in the force of his stance. “Lydia Wren is under my protection. If you want to kill her, step over my corpse first.”
A collective breath hissed through the hall. Even the sect leader frowned.
“Julian,” he said sharply, “this girl is a demonic cultivator. If she lives, she will become a disaster.”
From behind him, I peeked out with red-rimmed eyes, tears trembling on my lashes like loose pearls. I reached out and clutched the hem of his robe in both hands.
“They all want to kill me,” I whispered shakily. “You’re the only one who’s ever been good to me. I’m so scared. Don’t leave me behind.”
Julian’s hand closed over mine at once, warm and dry, and the chill that had seeped into my whole body vanished in an instant. When he turned to look at me, every trace of violence in his eyes was gone, leaving only softness.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said quietly. “I’m here.”
No one knew that I wasn’t just a demonic cultivator.
I was also, by all recognized standards, a low-level scheming little fake-innocent flirt.
Master Rowan had warned me about it ages ago.
“Your tricks are so clumsy they’re laughable,” he’d said. “No one here is blind. Rein yourself in.”
What he didn’t know was that I had no interest in using those tricks on just anyone.
I only wanted to cling to Julian Vale.
Half a month earlier, the sun had been blazing over the training grounds, baking the flagstones until waves of heat shimmered in the air. My fellow disciples were drenched in sweat as they practiced sword forms, each one of them parched and exhausted.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
And there I was, dressed as prettily as possible, carrying a lacquered lunch box embroidered with white plum blossoms. Inside was chilled lotus seed soup.
According to the so-called plot, this was where I was supposed to trail after Adrian Hawke, the senior brother disciple, and feed him all the soft, syrupy concern expected of a girl like me.
But the moment I stepped into the middle of the training grounds, Julian split the hill beside us in half with a single stroke.
Stone exploded. Dust billowed into the air.
I stopped dead.
Then I turned without hesitation and headed straight for him.
“Julian,” I called sweetly, hurrying over with the lunch box in hand. “You’ve been practicing for so long. You must be exhausted.”
I scooped up a spoonful of lotus seed soup and held it to his lips. With my other hand, I took out a handkerchief faintly scented with orchids and gently wiped the sweat from his temple.
“Your swordsmanship is incredible,” I said, looking up at him with practiced admiration. “That strike was absolutely breathtaking.”
Julian visibly froze.
His long lashes trembled, and the faint startled look on his face was so rare I almost laughed. For someone who was always so cool and distant, he looked absurdly unprepared for this kind of treatment.
The chilled sweetness of the lotus seed soup slid down his throat, probably soothing the heat he’d worked up from training. The orchid scent from my handkerchief lingered lightly in the air. I deliberately let a little shyness show, lowering my eyes and letting my face flush.
To my delight, the tips of Julian’s ears slowly turned pink.
“Junior Sister Lydia, that’s unfair,” Ethan Reed called from the side, swaggering over with a grin. “We’ve all been training out here for half the day too. How come only he gets lotus seed soup?”
I blinked as if the thought had only just occurred to me. My cheeks reddened even more, and my voice dropped to a tiny murmur.
“Senior Brother, I… I just thought Julian had worked the hardest…”
“Oh, really?” the others immediately chimed in, all too happy to join the teasing. “Then wipe our sweat too!”
Julian’s face went cold in an instant.
He drove his sword point-first into the ground with a sharp clang. Dust stirred from the impact.
His gaze swept over the jeering disciples, sharp enough to make them flinch. “Don’t bully her.”
“Lydia’s delicate. In this heat, it was hard enough for her to come all the way here just to bring soup. And you still expect her to run around taking care of all of you?”
The others exchanged looks.
Every single one of them was clearly thinking the same thing: You’re the one who drank the soup. How did this somehow become our fault?
But Julian Vale was the strongest disciple in the sect, and when he spoke, that was the end of it.
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
He turned back to me, and his voice softened at once. “There’s shade over there. Go sit and rest. Leave this to me.”
Then he pulled his sword back out of the ground and looked toward the others, his eyes suddenly keen as blades.
“If you all have that much energy to spare, come at me together. Today, I’ll personally make sure you get enough practice.”
If there was one real advantage to playing the sweet, clingy little innocent, it was this: the heroine would spoil you rotten.
Because of me—high-maintenance menace that I was—Julian Vale had just beaten our fellow disciples until they were sprawled all over the training grounds groaning in pain. I sat beneath a tree in the shade, lazily fanning myself with a silk round fan as I watched one bruised and battered senior brother after another collapse to the ground. It was glorious.
Out of all of them, Adrian Hawke had held up the best.
He was Longriver Sect’s senior-most disciple. He might not possess Julian’s frightening natural talent, but he made up for it with discipline and relentless effort. He’d actually managed to trade blows with him for quite a while, and every now and then even forced Julian back a few steps.
Sword energy lashed through the air. Their strikes were fast, fierce, and dazzling enough to leave me dizzy just watching. After two full hours, Julian finally lost by three moves and lowered his spirit sword.
I had already grown tired of waiting. The instant he stopped, I darted toward him like a swallow and threw myself at his arm.
“Big sister, you were incredible! You fought for so long—you must be exhausted.”
I pulled out a clean handkerchief and eagerly dabbed away the light sheen of sweat at his brow, smiling so hard my eyes curved. “You once told me you were from Westmere in the Southlands before you entered the sect, right? I’m from the Southlands too. Doesn’t that make this fate? I had my maid prepare some dishes from home tonight. You have to come to my courtyard and try them.”
Julian clearly had no idea what to do with the full force of my blazing enthusiasm. A moment ago he’d been sharp and decisive as a drawn blade. Now his face went scarlet, and he stammered, “I… yes. Before I entered the sect, I did live in Westmere… Lydia, you also…”
“Junior sister.” Adrian walked over with a frown, his tone edged with disapproval. “You’re a cultivator now. You should focus on training, cut yourself off from mortal attachments, and stop indulging in these worldly distractions.”
My eyes reddened instantly.