Forty-two Soul Kiss
He kissed me?
Does he like me?
Oh, no need to ask this, Yan Yanshu said it on the flying boat, he really seems to like me.
Lu Yinche boasted of having traveled extensively, savored countless delicacies, and tasted every flavor, sweet, sour, bitter, and spicy, but he had never considered what Yan Yanshu tasted like. Of course, the Sword Saint himself was inedible, lacking the ability to fill the stomach—perhaps not, but Lu Yinche could still passively savor the flavor of the food that had been delivered to him.
If he still has the mind to appreciate it carefully.
The answer is of course no.
The physical sensation was strong and obvious and could not be ignored, and the mental stimulation was so intense that he could not resist at all.
As soon as their lips and tongues touched, he no longer had control over his body. The kind of siege and conquest described by others could not describe the actual experience at all. Lu Yinche just passively opened his mouth and let the indescribable sweet taste invade him. His eyes were originally open, but he didn't dare to look at him any longer, as if every little hair on Yan Yanshu's face had the power to kill him, making him close his eyes in panic.
At the same time, the spiritual consciousness of a top-level powerhouse from the Guixu realm, half-step to ascension, surged in, flowing through the gap in the body like an overwhelming wave, completely turning the tables. Lu Yinche even had the illusion that Yan Yanshu had lifted up his internal organs and carefully examined them. Compared to the previous spiritual consciousness that had slowly and gently moved and pieced together, it was far more powerful.
But it is very comfortable.
The external force enveloped the spirit, brimming with a comfortable spiritual energy that powerfully supported and protected it, isolating it from any potential intrusive energies. The fragments of the soul had been colliding and rubbing against each other day and night within the sea of consciousness due to the external turmoil. All this damage was halted by Yan Yanshu's intervention. Floating warmly in the spiritual energy it brought, it felt as comfortable as sleeping on a cloud.
Lu Yinche felt an instinctive sense of having something to rely on, and had nothing to worry about.
The connection between souls is different from the embrace of the limbs. There's no temperature, but the heat generated by instinct gradually rises, washing away the remaining rationality in the brain. The extreme joy can only be described as ecstasy. In someone's embrace, you know you are safe and secure, that this person is you and you want to hug them. The intimacy between you is complete, with no other barriers or barriers, no more lingering concerns. You know you are very close, and you can't get any closer.
But this is not just a simple spiritual connection.
Yan Yanshu was doing his job. His power gathered Lu Yinche's fragmented soul. Although it wasn't strong enough to reunite them with external forces, under the light of the spirit lamp, Lu Yinche's sea of consciousness found a peace he hadn't known since waking up. But this action couldn't be simply described as healing, because Lu Yinche couldn't ignore the kiss.
Yan Yanshu was kissing him.
Every pore and hair on Lu Yinche's body was screaming this fact.
The rumored former Buddhist disciple who had cut off all emotions and love, and the current sword master who had no desires or demands, kissed him in a simple hut surrounded by valleys and possibly a little leaky.
Yan Yanshu licked his teeth, occasionally brushing against his tongue, half-heartedly accepting and half-rejecting. He didn't use much effort, but his presence was undeniable. The sensation of being sucked and the stirrings of his soul in his sea of consciousness formed a symphony, competing for Lu Yinche's attention and leaving him overwhelmed. He was immersed in the environment controlled by Yan Yanshu, and could only passively accept and comply.
Perhaps the spirit lamp had worked; the wick, ignited by spiritual energy, continued to emit a citrus scent, slightly sour but not pungent. Lu Yinche couldn't quite tell if it was the scent of the burning lamp or Yan Yanshu's. This man wore no incense or scented items, his attire so simple it looked as if he had been reincarnated only yesterday.
Yet, the fragrance seemed to permeate every pore, seeking any place to release itself. It was like the waving skirt of a fairy in the sky, or like someone had plucked a feather from a divine bird and gently tickled the tip of my nose.
Lu Yinche's last bit of clarity of mind was captured by that aroma. He thought slowly and felt very curious. Why did Yan Yanshu smell like citrus but tasted sweet? Like the sugar figurines sold in the market when he was a child, the most delicious kind that he would never get tired of licking.
Did he secretly eat some orange candy without telling me? How could he have been pickled like this?
I quite like it.
Then, Lu Yinche gradually lost consciousness in that warm atmosphere and fell asleep.
Lu Yinche was sure that he was dreaming again.
This is not a good sign. For practitioners, it must mean that their understanding of the Tao has reached a new bottleneck, which is why they often have dreams and may even have inner demons.
That wouldn't do. Lu Yinche was a very enterprising person (he thought so). Once his cultivation level regressed to the Palm Realm, although he still hadn't figured out whether it was the backlash of failing to transcend the tribulation or the retribution for being seriously injured in an accident, it didn't affect his determination to continue toward the Great Dao, and even his breath revealed the desire to make progress.
Big guys are all like this. Temporary failure and setbacks can only be small experiences that are not worth mentioning in the first half of their lives. They are used to enrich their life resumes, but they cannot lose their reputation as big guys. Those who are unable to recover are called villains compared to the protagonists, and they have to play the good guy when they go on stage.
Lu Yinche believed that his psychological adaptability was good. He had seen many storms and would not be frightened by temporary setbacks. It was just a matter of sleeping for a while, being depressed for two days, and complaining a few times. It was just a matter of starting over again. This was what cultivation was all about.
The Dao that Lu Yinche comprehended was called "moving forward."
Go forward, go forward, the essence of going forward is the Tao itself.
The reason why he judged that he was in a dream was because of the surrounding environment.
Yan Yanshu, who had just been kissing him, wasn't there. With his clingy, unwillingness to let go, he couldn't have been shy about kissing and gone off to cool off in the icy springs. Lu Yinche wondered if Yan Yanshu's skin was several times thicker than his own. Otherwise, how could he be so expressionless and reveal his emotions? Logically, this guy could choke him to death. He'd done that countless times. What was the need for innocence?
It was Lu Yinche who was at a loss, as he didn't even remember it. Now, he is an experienced person physically but a virgin mentally.
He was still sitting in the thatched hut, the environment had basically not changed, the spirit lamp was placed on the bed, but the color of the flame was different, no longer a warm orange-yellow, but a faint dark blue that had become like a ghost fire over the past hundred years.
The desk was still the same one, facing the small, unclosed window. The wind blew a corner of the paper on it. Lu Yinche walked over and picked up a paperweight to hold it down. He saw it was a deer holding a branch, the carving was lively and artful, without any artificiality. Even Lu Yinche, who didn't know much about the price, knew it was quite expensive. He then looked at the paper on the desk. It was also a letter, with just a few large, hastily written characters, barely beginning.
It was his own handwriting, and it said "Ask Qiwuan".
Lu Yinche was stunned for a moment.
Qiwu, wasn't that the sword Yan Yanshu held when he changed his name? If this person wasn't deliberately making it up, then that sword must have come from his mother, the lady of the Dongzhou Yang family, a renowned swordsmith. Although he had never heard of this sword before, the blade's elegance and style made it seem extraordinary. If it was forged by Master Yang, then it was only natural.
But how could this name appear here, and how could it appear in my own letter?
The sound transmission spirit stone is very expensive, and perhaps ordinary people still rely on paper and pen to send messages and express their feelings, but Lu Yinche is not short of money. There is only one person who exchanges letters with him, and that is his pen pal.
What did he call that pen pal?
Lu Yinche suddenly found that he couldn't remember anything. It was like there was a fog in his mind, and he couldn't see the truth no matter what. The memory existed, but he couldn't read it normally.
He could only recall the past conversations they had had. His pen pal's words were sharp and knowledgeable, his unique perspectives always inspiring him. He was definitely not just any ordinary person. But this pen pal he exchanged letters with wasn't a conservative, strict teacher. Occasionally, he would make playful remarks that even Lu Yinche found almost amusing. He always imagined him as someone around his own age.
Lu Yinche had never met him, only knowing he lived in Dongzhou and that he could send messages to Xuanji Tower, which had an encrypted channel for handling monks' mail, a paid service. Lu Yinche hadn't cared about that, figuring that time was long and that such a compatible person would eventually meet. There were so many reasons not to meet, and perhaps he was also someone who valued karma and fate, so he couldn't afford to offend him.
He had crafted the Seven Special Pagodas out of boredom and originally wanted to send it to his pen pal, but later entrusted it to Gong Jin because something happened.
What's up?
Lu Yinche stared blankly at the flickering ghostly flame in the Anling lamp and found that he could not remember.
His gaze drifted back to the letter on the table. It was empty, and there was no way to tell when it was from the past. Perhaps it was just a figment of his imagination in a dream. Qiwu, Dongzhou, could it be that his pen pal, the one he had unilaterally called a brother and a close friend, was actually Yan Yanshu's mother?
Oh my goodness, how do we calculate the generational hierarchy? Each one has his own way?
I don't want to □□, Lu Yinche thought. He picked up a few pen holders from the table and covered the writing with them, trying to cover up his mistake.
He looked around but didn't find any key that could trigger his dusty memories. He turned around, pushed open the door of the thatched hut, and walked into the yard.
The fence remained the same tattered, sparser structure, apparently unfinished. Materials lay haphazardly stacked beside it, as if the owner had left. Only a few flowerpots, barely sprouting, remained. Two hoes, one large and one small, leaned against the unfinished fence like father and son, still stained with damp soil. The courtyard gate faced a simple wooden bridge. The water was deep and swift, a stream like this one devoid of large fish. Because it was near a waterfall, the water was clear, frothing with white foam.
Looking up again and looking a little further away, Lu Yinche remembered the bride Yan in his dream, who was standing there. Now there was only a huge rock in its place, which was rounded by the water.
A stone would never call someone husband.
Lu Yinche walked towards that direction, but before he arrived, he suddenly heard someone calling his name from behind, in a very intimate voice.
"Ache."
He looked back, and in a trance, the sky and the earth changed color. The small bridge, courtyard and thatched cottage all disappeared, replaced by a sea of pink and purple flowers with no end in sight. The plants were very tall, almost reaching above his chest, and the flowers bloomed densely and luxuriantly, sharing the colors of the world equally with the pure blue of the sky.
He was instantly surrounded by the sea of flowers.
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