"Teacher, this student has arrived!"
Liu Mo Fei turned around—and froze. His eyes widened. His heart skipped a beat.
Jia Wei Xin stood there, hair tied up, dressed in a tightly fitted training robe that hugged her curves and cinched perfectly at the waist. She had clearly modified the standard robes for better movement—no heavy adornments, no trailing fabric. She looked like she had stepped out of a wuxia drama… but smarter. More practical. And stunning.
Most female leads in those dramas wore loose robes and elaborate hairstyles that would fall apart with a single backflip. Not Jia Wei Xin. She came prepared.
She was a natural beauty—proud, strong, sharp. With this sleek look and zero makeup, she radiated a raw allure. The kind that made men want to both protect her and tame her.
"Teacher!"
Liu Mo Fei blinked, forcing himself back to reality.
No wonder he was so drawn to her. She looked completely different from before—yet still breathtaking. If she were in a modern-day beauty pageant, she could win first, second, and third place—just by switching styles. No one would even realize it was the same woman.
"S-Student Wei Xin," he finally stammered.
He wanted to hug her. Badly. But he held himself back.
"Where did you get that outfit?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"I just modified the one you gave me. Does it look good?" Jia Wei Xin smiled sweetly.
It looks too good.
Liu Mo Fei muttered under his breath, "So good I want to stare at you forever… and tear it off at the same time."
He laughed to himself. On the first day of training, his student was already messing with his mind.
"Teacher? Why are you laughing?" Jia Wei Xin tilted her head with a cheeky grin.
"You should behave more seriously now that I'm your student." She smiled again, all mischief and challenge.. She was clever and playful by nature—and seeing her teacher eyeing her strangely and then bursting into laughter only made it too easy to tease him. How could she resist?
Oh? So that's how she wants to play?
"You want me to be serious?" Liu Mo Fei smirked.
___
Three hours later…
Jia Wei Xin deeply regretted teasing him.
He didn't even let her rest for more than a minute. Squats. Jumps. Sword drills. Footwork. Back to squats. Repeat.
"Can we stop now, Sifu?"
"No. Unless you beg me."
"?!"
"Are we done yet? I beg you now!"
"No. Unless you kiss me."
"!!!??? ###"
Jia Wei Xin was speechless.
Did he just—?
She clenched her fists and kept going. She wasn't a quitter. She loved learning—even if it involved pain, cramps, and a half-insane sifu. This wasn't training. It was murder disguised as mentorship.
And she was sure he was enjoying it too much.
She caught him smirking between sword swings. That smug face. That little sparkle in his eyes.
He was definitely punishing her. And it made her want to throw the sword at him.
Instead, she glared. Hard.
Liu Mo Fei paused. Then he realized.
Maybe he had pushed too far.
But hidden beneath the teasing, there was purpose. Intent.
Liu Mo Fei wasn't just tormenting her for laughs—though he'd never admit how much he enjoyed her reactions. What he was doing was calculated. Precise. And far more intense than any regular training regimen.
Because today, he was attempting the impossible.
Helping a disciple break through her first meridian in a single day.
No pills. No talismans. Just spiritual endurance, body-tempering battle rhythm, and forceful stimulation of the qi channels through nonstop movement and focused will.
Most sects would call this reckless.
But Liu Mo Fei?
He called it art.
While Jia Wei Xin gasped for air between drills, her body pushed past its mortal limits. Her muscles screamed, but her spirit didn't waver. And that was the key. He needed to exhaust her physical vessel enough that her mind—her will—could pierce through the blockage in her meridian like a blade.
"Don't stop now," he said, voice quieter, steadier. "Push through. You're at the edge. One more strike. One more breath. Let it break."
Jia Wei Xin's hands trembled as she gripped the training sword. Sweat soaked her back. Her vision blurred. But something deep within her stirred. Like a locked door cracking open under the pressure of her resolve.
A hum. A soft vibration along her spine.
She didn't know it yet, but her first meridian—dormant and stubborn—was cracking open.
Liu Mo Fei stood quietly nearby now, gaze focused, serious for once. Around him, the air shifted. A faint glow of spiritual energy danced along his fingertips as he subtly guided the flow of qi through the training field. His presence alone stabilized the environment, suppressing external interference.
As expected from the genius master. He didn't need rituals. His cultivation technique was so refined, even his breath could alter the qi density of a room. But he didn't use it lightly. Tonight, he used it for her.
Because he saw her potential.
She wasn't just talented—she had the kind of soul that refused to kneel. That refused to break.
He respected that.
And it made him want to see her fly.
"I'm sorry, Wei Xin," Liu Mo Fei said gently. "I got carried away."
He looked at her—really looked at her—with softness.
And that softness… it was the final blow.
Jia Wei Xin's legs gave out. Her body felt like it was saying goodbye. She had no control left. It was like everything in her said, "That's it. We're out."
Only her mind remained. Slightly.
Liu Mo Fei darted forward, catching her just in time.
They both fell—Jia Wei Xin collapsing on top of him. Chest to chest. Thigh to thigh. Toe to toe.
He caught her head just before it hit his, cradling it gently against his shoulder.
This wasn't one of those drama moments where they accidentally fall and kiss. No, this was a real fall. Full-body weight. No strength left. Just limp.
There was a brief moment of panic—until he felt her steady pulse and breathing.
She was just… exhausted.
Then it hit him—literally—her soft body pressed against his. Hard.
If he weren't a trained martial artist, that impact might've broken something. But instead, it just… felt good. Too good.
She didn't move. She didn't even flinch.
Then… a tiny, completely unladylike sound escaped her lips.
She had fallen asleep. On him.
Liu Mo Fei stared at the sky. This girl. This proud, fiery girl—snoring like a kitten on his chest, stealing his breath and his dignity.
And just like that, all his chaotic thoughts stilled. Her breath, warm and even, was the most peaceful thing he'd ever felt.
He didn't know how long he lay there. But eventually, the sky darkened and insects began to sing.
Sigh.
Time with her always felt too short.
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her back to her room. He placed her gently on the bed.
As he laid her onto the bed, her robe shifted slightly, and suddenly—there it was again. That tightly fitted outfit. That shape. That softness. That dangerous distraction. She looked like a forbidden dream.
His mind slipped again—desire stirring. His gaze lingered too long.
But just before he lost control, he yanked the blanket over her. Covered her from head to toe. Not even her neck showed.
No risks tonight.
Still... he wanted to laugh. Not at her—but at himself. The great Liu Mo Fei, martial master, thrown completely off balance by a cheeky mortal who snored on his chest and nearly stole his soul in a robe she designed herself.
And tomorrow?
Oh, tomorrow was going to be fun.
Because the first thing he planned to do…Was tell her exactly what happened.
And wait for that blushing, stuttering, fire-spitting reaction he already loved far too much.