Soul Guardian - Chapter 17: "Hot Sauce"

[Warning: Mature Content]

“Master, are we going to keep what happened last night a secret between us?”

“For how loud you moaned and cried, Qing-er, I think the whole world has already learned all about it, and your concern is irrelevant.”

Yun Qing-er, the only disciple of the legendary immortal swordmaster Bai Ye, has been hiding her feelings for her master for years. Unaccepted by norms and morals, it is the darkest secret that she swears to bury deep within her heart.

But life has other plans. Bai Ye's desire for her burns hot beneath his solemn appearance. He will teach her not only the art of the sword, but also the pleasures of life that she never knew existed before.

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Smut starts at Chapter 17, with a teaser in Chapter 11. A bit softcore at first but will get wilder quickly as the story moves on :)

Note that this is NOT a typical cultivation romance. Immortals and spiritual power and whatnot are all plot devices… You'll see what I mean in just a few chapters!

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[Sneak Peek]

He pinned me against the poplar tree at the center of the garden. A breeze rustled past, stirring the sunlight sparkling through the autumn foliage above us, and a sprinkle of gold fell over his shoulders. “Say you want me,” he whispered.

“Bai Ye—” I breathed, but the rest of my words were replaced by moans the moment he traced his kisses along my neck and took my earlobe into his mouth.

Familiar tingles roared through me as he nibbled and suckled gently. His hand slid up my chest, and he played with my sensations with his lips and tongue and fingers until my arms trembled around him. All other thoughts vanished from my mind. The only thing I knew was the irresistible feeling of him on me, so overwhelming that my knees started growing weak. I would've fallen if he wasn't pinning me hard against the tree.

“Bai Ye …” I moaned again, clawing at his clothes. “Of course I want you … Right here, right now.”

He let out a soft puff of laughter, and his hand grazed down, gripping the folds of my dress. With a rip of fabric, he tore them away.

_ _ _ _ MXFXF relationship. Please read the note. Please add it to the collection then and support me. All feedback will be appreciated. Check my profile for more workShe was not the heiress, the eldest, or the youngest. She just existed in the family, keeping her head down and letting herself wash away until she could leave.“I tried standing out, staying quiet, and even voicing my thoughts. But no matter what I do, I am never acknowledged. Does my existence even matter? After all, it's not like anyone in this family even likes me.”Rika Goodwill was the shame of her family. Born the middle 'beta' child of a prominent Alpha-Omega couple, it was natural for her to be neglected compared to her perfect Alpha brother and sweet Omega sister.Her situation outside of her family was no better. People avoided her because of her mafia family and judged her nature without a second thought.Her only friends were the 'sweetheart couple of the century'. But Rika had somehow become a third wheel between their bickering and frequent breakups.Over the course of her 17-year-old life, Rika had come to accept her fate and move on. After all, no amount of complaining would ever change her situation of being a third wheel.Collage was supposed to be her big break. It was supposed to be the time Rika had for herself, where she could feel like herself, so she applied for a place where no one knew her.This was supposed to be her lucky break! Rika was supposed to get away from her worsening life.But neither her family nor her 'friends' were ready to let her go, and it did not take long for her peaceful life to turn sour.

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

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