Chapter 45:

Feng Yuemian’s expression darkened. “I don’t agree.”

Yan Zhi wasn’t surprised. After all, no normal man would agree to such a thing.

If he agreed, he wouldn’t be human.

Whether Feng Yuemian was a decent person or not was beside the point. Upon hearing this, Cen Wuwang silently drew his sword, ready to settle things with brute force.

Xue Ying placed a hand on the hilt, turning to Feng Yuemian. “Why not?”

Feng Yuemian shot back, “You’re my lover now. Why should I agree to bring in a third wheel?”

Xue Ying found this even stranger. “You approached me with ulterior motives from the start. Since you have your own agenda, why can’t I use you in return? Mutual benefit, isn’t that great? Don’t tell me, Mianmian, you actually want to date a sword cultivator?”

Her tone was utterly devoid of emotion—cold, ruthless, purely transactional. No love, no hope.

To make matters worse, Xue Ying kept her hand on the sword hilt, refusing to let go, making it seem like she and Cen Wuwang were playfully flirting.

“Let go.”

“Bailu is my sword. What’s wrong with me touching it?”

“It’s mine now.”

The hilt was small, and their hands inevitably brushed against each other—one refusing to let go, the other stubbornly holding on. Their fingers intertwined, and they exchanged a deep, meaningful gaze. Feng Yuemian’s delicate face twisted in fury, barely restraining himself from yelling at Xue Ying, “Watch your attitude. You’re supposed to be in a relationship with *me*.”

This was his first love—even if it was fake, even if it was just an act, he had poured his emotions into it. It was his first taste of romance, innocent and beautiful, not something Xue Ying could dismiss with a casual “just find a side piece.”

Damn it, the side piece and the main lover getting cozy—did he have no dignity left?

Xue Ying’s face was mostly hidden behind a veil, like some modern-day online romance. Feng Yuemian had never even seen her real face. She asked him, “Do you like me?”

Feng Yuemian stammered, his eyes darting around. He recalled the rumors about Xue Ying—one of them being the most beautiful woman in the Tai Xuan Sect. With a title like that, she couldn’t be bad-looking. His ears reddened as he muttered, “They say familiarity breeds affection. Given time, feelings might grow. Why not give it a try?”

Xue Ying replied coldly, “Do you know about my master?”

Feng Yuemian was baffled. Why bring up Yu Hengzi now? They weren’t at the “meet the parents” stage yet.

“Of course. The current Sword Immortal, even Cangwu isn’t his match.”

Xue Ying said, “Yu Hengzi’s specialty is killing his wives to prove his Dao.”

Feng Yuemian had a bad feeling about this.

“Like master, like disciple. Do you think I’d kill my husband to prove my Dao?”

Xue Ying even flashed him a sweet smile—so sweet it was almost mocking.

What nonsense about “familiarity breeds affection”? Did he think she had time to waste? If she spent three hundred years on some sweet romance, Cen Wuwang would only need to wear two green hats before she lost.

Her mental state was already shaky, and if she fell behind in the cuckolding game, wouldn’t that be a total loss? Better to just slaughter the chicken and go all out.

“Try it and die. Who’s afraid of whom?”

Meanwhile, Cen Wuwang slapped Xue Ying’s hand away and pressed Bailu against Feng Yuemian’s neck with one demand:

“Agree or not?”

Yan Zhi closed her eyes. This was the first time she’d seen someone being forced to become a scumbag.

Truly legendary. If anyone asked why he cheated in the future, he could just say, “Because there was a sword at my throat.”

In the end, Feng Yuemian swallowed his pride and agreed. When he took Xue Ying to gather pearls later, he didn’t say a word, clearly seething with anger.

But reality was cruel—Xue Ying was completely oblivious to Feng Yuemian’s silent treatment. Instead, she had a great time with Yan Zhi, gifting her pearl hairpins and calling her the “Little Fairy of the East Sea.” To Cen Wuwang, it looked like two girls playfully teasing each other. To Feng Yuemian, it was blatant cuckoldry.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Determined not to lose face, he mimicked Xue Ying and tried to drape a pearl necklace around Cen Wuwang’s neck. The moment he moved, Cen Wuwang turned to look at him.

Feng Yuemian sneered, “What? Weren’t you the one desperate to be the side piece?”

Cen Wuwang tilted his head, then took the necklace from Feng Yuemian and walked over to Xue Ying. “Pretty, right? Your boyfriend gave it to me.”

Yan Zhi whispered in Xue Ying’s ear, “This is the side piece provoking you. As the official girlfriend, you need to slap back.”

Xue Ying suddenly understood. She pulled Yan Zhi closer and said to Feng Yuemian, “Jealous? The East Sea Dragon Clan’s Prime Minister—richer and younger than you.”

Feng Yuemian nearly choked on his rage. If not for his mission, the mighty Phoenix King would never have hidden his identity, let alone be compared to some mere minister.

“Don’t get cocky!”

Xue Ying smirked. “Big and skilled—”

Feng Yuemian shrieked. He was still a virgin bird! “Shameless!”

Furious, Feng Yuemian stormed off. Yan Zhi watched him leave, then cleared her throat. “The Daoist always enjoys spouting nonsense.”

Honestly, she felt like she’d seen Feng Yuemian somewhere before.

—

Meanwhile, Feng Yuemian returned to his quarters in a rage. “How dare she! A mere sword cultivator, daring to humiliate me!”

His subordinate quickly tried to calm him. “My King, don’t be angry. Once we obtain the Five-Colored Divine Feather, that sword cultivator will be at your mercy.”

He even let out a sleazy chuckle. Feng Yuemian, still fuming, suddenly turned to him and asked darkly, “Tell me… is my bird big?”

The subordinate froze, then nodded. “Big, of course! As the Phoenix King, yours is naturally the biggest.”

Otherwise, why would that Golden Crow keep staring at him? A single chicken wing could feed a whole meal.

Somewhat mollified, Feng Yuemian gradually calmed down and began plotting his next move.

With Cen Wuwang around, his melodramatic schemes would never measure up. He’d likely end up in second place again, jeopardizing his grand plan. He needed another approach.

Like that Prime Minister, Yan Zhi…

A drowning phoenix is worse than a chicken. Underwater, Feng Yuemian’s combat prowess was severely weakened. Plus, this was the Dragon Clan’s territory—he couldn’t go all out. If brute force wouldn’t work, then subterfuge would.

Feng Yuemian’s eyes gleamed as he called his subordinate over. “Do you have any knockout drugs?”

After Feng Yuemian left, the subordinate rummaged through his stash—then paled.

Oh no. He’d given him the wrong one. But… it probably wouldn’t cause any major issues.

—

Yan Zhi was actually very busy. As the Dragon Palace’s Prime Minister, she had to handle everything, big and small. Snatching moments to check on Xue Ying was already pushing it. Going days without seeing her was perfectly normal.

Feng Yuemian swallowed his pride and reconciled with Xue Ying, hoping to lie in wait for Yan Zhi’s visit. But after polishing the courtyard’s crystal stones to a shine, she still hadn’t shown up.

Feng Yuemian: !

He couldn’t keep being a punching bag—Xue Ying would pluck him bald at this rate. So he took the initiative. “Why hasn’t the Prime Minister visited these days?”

Without Bailu, Xue Ying was irritable during sword practice. “Why are you so eager?”

“You grimace when I arrive, but your eyes light up at the mention of the Prime Minister. When Sister Cen looks for you, you make excuses. Feng Yuemian, do you have a thing for men?”

And what a scandalous preference—crossing races, realms, past and future. A phoenix-dragon romance? Was he hoping love would dissolve millennia of hatred?

Feng Yuemian clutched a pillar to keep from collapsing, his beautiful face contorted with rage. “Xue Ying!”

Xue Ying remained calm. “Just stating facts. Two women ask you out, and you refuse. A man doesn’t show up for days, and you pine for him. If it’s not attraction—”

Her sword qi split a boulder in half. She turned to Feng Yuemian. “Unwarranted kindness is either lust or theft.”

Feng Yuemian was momentarily stunned by her display. “What nonsense are you spouting?”

Xue Ying stayed silent. Feng Yuemian stammered out an explanation. “You and I are supposed to be a couple, yet you’re always with Yan Zhi. Of course I’d be jealous.”

Xue Ying clapped her hands. “You’re the Phoenix King. Yan Zhi is the Dragon Clan’s Prime Minister. You two are natural enemies—and now love rivals. So it’s still either lust or theft.”

Feng Yuemian thought sword cultivators were supposed to act before thinking. While he debated whether to play the gay card, Xue Ying spoke again.

“I’ll help you.”

The poetic line *”The mountain has trees, the trees have branches”* died in his throat. Feng Yuemian’s peach-blossom eyes were full of confusion.

Help him?

Xue Ying slung an arm around his shoulders and whispered, “I know your plan—the Five-Colored Divine Feather.”

At this, murderous intent flashed across Feng Yuemian’s face. His fingers curled into claws, ready to strike. But Xue Ying was faster, pinning him against the wall, her sword grazing his scalp as she leaned in. “Let’s talk?”

Feng Yuemian retracted his claws and turned away with a huff. “Hmph. Deceitful humans.”

Xue Ying ignored the jab and sat down with him. “The Five-Colored Divine Feather is under the Dragon Palace’s custody. I don’t know where it is. But if you were the Crown Princess, things would be different. A little coquetry toward Ao Fugui, and you might just get to see it.”

Feng Yuemian scooted against the wall, drawing an invisible line between them. Hugging a coral tree, he scoffed, “Isn’t the Crown Princess position already reserved by your Tai Xuan Sect?”

If not for Cen Wuwang, the title would’ve been his long ago.

Xue Ying didn’t mention that *she* was the one who suggested Cen Wuwang compete against Feng Yuemian. Instead, she offered a compromise. “I want to cooperate. I’ll get Bailu back, and you can be Crown Princess.”

Feng Yuemian caught her drift. “You and her…?”

Xue Ying’s voice turned icy. “The grudge of stealing my sword is unforgivable.”

They struck a deal: Feng Yuemian would provide the materials, and Xue Ying would act. On the eve of the next elimination round, they’d drug Cen Wuwang, making him miss the match and get disqualified. She’d seize the chance to reclaim Bailu and flee the East Sea.

Xue Ying felt no guilt. At worst, she’d leave Yan Zhi a letter exposing Feng Yuemian before escaping. As the Phoenix King, the Dragon Clan wouldn’t dare act rashly—they’d detain him for negotiations with the demon realm. If talks failed, there was always Cen Wuwang’s brute force. And if *that* failed, Cangwu would step in to clean up the mess.

It wouldn’t escalate into a full-blown conflict. The worst she’d face upon returning was a scolding—*”For a lousy sword, you’d reignite a millennia-old feud?”* But Xue Ying had no regrets. Bailu was special. For it, she’d do anything.

Feng Yuemian did the math and nodded. “Fine. What does Cen Wuwang like to eat? I’ll cook it.”

“Why are you staring? Cultivators have sharp senses—they’d smell anything off. If *you* drugged him, he’d notice.”

That made sense. But it was still bizarre that Feng Yuemian, the dazzling phoenix, was skilled in the kitchen.

Xue Ying thought for a moment. “If I suddenly bring him something, he’ll suspect. Better make something *I* like.”

Feng Yuemian had no objections. If it secured him the Crown Princess title, he’d even make pickled phoenix feet.

The man had no shame when it came to winning.

Following Xue Ying’s request, Feng Yuemian made her candied orange haws. On the night before the elimination round, Xue Ying returned with the drugged treat, casually strolling past Cen Wuwang. When his gaze lingered on the skewer, she naturally offered it to him.

“Sister Cen seems to like candied haws.”

Cen Wuwang chewed the orange, savoring the sweet-sour taste. After achieving abstinence from grains (fasting), he rarely indulged in such treats. Once, he’d been constrained by his image. Now, accustomed to wearing skirts, he feared nothing.

“It’s sweet.”

Xue Ying bit the bamboo stick, thinking of Bailu’s imminent return. “Very sweet.”

She calmly excused herself, packed her belongings, and finalized her plans. Bag in hand, she returned to Cen Wuwang’s room and called out, “Sister Cen, are you there?”

After two unanswered calls, she pushed the door open. The crystal curtain swayed slightly, but the room was silent. A few steps in, she spotted Bailu abandoned on the floor. Picking it up, she felt the sword hum in recognition—like a long-lost friend.

She caressed the hilt, recalling all the recent humiliations. Anger surged, and she decided to teach Cen Wuwang a lesson.

But after searching the room, there was no sign of him. Finally, she circled back to the folding screen—no person, just a discarded skirt. And a white, fluffy creature curled up motionless.

Xue Ying scooped it up—a snow weasel. It looked familiar.

She lifted its tail for a quick inspection. Yep, the same one she’d sent for neutering.

Connecting the dots—Cangwu had reclaimed the weasel shortly before Cen Wuwang appeared, and with no one else in the room and the pile of clothes—Xue Ying understood. Staring into the weasel’s beady black eyes, they shared a long silence before she asked:

“Master, do you want to become a real woman?”

Honestly, it sounded better than “eunuch.”