’Wangchen is going to murder his master, and I’m going to be blamed for seducing the entire peak, and my pork belly is probably getting cold. Ugh, I hate this novel!’

The bathing chamber of the Eternal Cloud Peak was suspended in a state of atmospheric and psychological paralysis.

Steam swirled violently against the rapidly encroaching frost as Xie Wangchen stood in the shattered doorway, the ruined jade box of medicinal herbs crumbling in his grip.

His dark, abyssal eyes flicked from the cowering, blushing form of Elder Qin Changxu to the soaking wet, hyperventilating figure of Lin Ji’an.

Elder Qin, pressing his bare back against the far wall of the jade tub, pointed a trembling, accusatory finger at Ji’an.

"Wangchen! Restrain this degenerate!" Elder Qin shrieked, his voice entirely stripped of its usual three-centuries-old majestic baritone. He sounded like a Victorian duchess who had just caught a stable boy peeping through her keyhole. "He took advantage of my Qi deviation! He threw himself upon me in the water! He is trying to soil my Dao!"

Ji’an, standing waist-deep in the thermal spring, felt her soul temporarily leave her body.

She looked at Wangchen. The Ice Demon’s face was an unreadable, flawless mask of pale jade, but the ambient temperature of the room was plummeting so fast that the steam was turning into literal hail.

’I’m done, He’s going to kill me,’ Ji’an panicked, raising her hands in a desperate gesture of surrender. ’He’s going to freeze my blood and shatter me into a million pieces. I am going to die because an ancient boomer doesn’t understand the mechanics of CPR and thermal regulation!’

"Wangchen, listen to me," Ji’an pleaded, her voice cracking as the freezing air bit into her wet skin. "I was stabilizing his core temperature! He grabbed my collar when he was delirious and pulled me in! I was literally trying to perform a rescue operation, not a seduction! I wouldn’t touch him even with a ten-foot spatula!"

The silence that followed was agonizing. The only sound was the faint, hissing crackle of the pool’s surface beginning to freeze over again.

Wangchen’s dark eyes remained fixed on Ji’an. He took in the sight of her soaked, translucent white tunic clinging to her lean torso.

He saw the desperate, honest panic in her dark eyes. And then, he looked at his master, an ancient, emotionally constipated ascetic currently clutching his own shoulders in a dramatic display of violated innocence.

The sociopathic, brilliantly biased logic of the yandere villain processed the data with lightning speed.

Premise One: Lin Ji’an possessed impeccable, flawless taste.

Evidence: She favored Xie Wangchen above all others.

Premise Two: Elder Qin was an antique relic who smelled of old incense and repressed misery, even though he looked like a pale, weak, and sickly beauty.

Conclusion: It was mathematically, universally impossible for Lin Ji’an to harbor any romantic or lecherous designs on his master.

Furthermore, the idea that Ji’an would willingly initiate physical contact with anyone other than him was a reality Wangchen simply refused to compute.

Therefore, by default, the fault lay entirely with Elder Qin.

The terrifying, murderous blizzard aura swirling around Wangchen suddenly halted.

He un-tensed his jaw, then stepped fully into the room, his boots crunching softly on the frost-covered tiles.

He walked directly to the edge of the pool, completely ignoring his master’s hysterical accusations.

"I believe you, Brother Lin," Wangchen stated. His voice was calm, flat, and echoed with absolute, unwavering certainty.

Elder Qin choked on a gasp of freezing air. "You... you believe him?! I am your Master! I am telling you, he straddled me! He touched my chest!"

Wangchen finally turned his gaze toward Elder Qin. The look in the Ice Demon’s eyes was so profoundly devoid of respect, so chillingly blank, that the Golden Core elder actually flinched.

"Your delirium compromised your spatial awareness, Master," Wangchen said smoothly, delivering the lie with chilling perfection. "You pulled Martial Uncle Lin into the water. He was merely doing his duty as a healer. To suggest otherwise is... undignified."

Elder Qin’s jaw dropped. A fresh wave of dark, freezing blood rushed to his head. The sheer audacity of his disciple, blatantly taking the side of the cook, calling his master undignified, and referring to the wretch as ’Martial Uncle Lin,’ was enough to threaten a secondary Qi deviation.

"You traitorous..." Elder Qin wheezed, clutching his chest, his eyes rolling back slightly.

"The herbs, Wangchen! Before he actually dies of a stroke!" Ji’an yelled, snapping the tension.

Wangchen immediately knelt at the edge of the pool, opening his hand to reveal the slightly crushed, but still potent ingredients: the Fire Ginseng, the glowing Yang-beast core, and the Dragon-Breath peppercorns.

Ji’an didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the ingredients from his palm, their fingers brushing briefly.

She channeled her Harmonious Five-Grain Qi directly into the herbs, crushing them together with her bare hands until they formed a glowing, searingly hot paste.

"Hold your breath, pops," Ji’an grunted, wading over to the cowering elder.

Elder Qin glared at her with a mixture of profound hatred and genuine, maiden-like terror. "Do not touch me! Stay away!"

"It’s either I touch you, or your meridians shatter, and you spend the rest of eternity as a sentient ice cube!" Ji’an barked, her customer-service patience entirely evaporated.

She aggressively slapped the glowing, searing paste directly onto the center of Elder Qin’s chest, right over his heart chakra.

Elder Qin let out a muffled shriek as the intense, concentrated Yang energy flooded his system, violently burning away the last remnants of the necrotic frost.

The treatment was brutal, lacking any of the gentle refinement of traditional alchemy, but it was undeniably effective.

The color rushed back into the elder’s face, his breathing stabilized, and the lethal cold radiating from his core neutralized.

Ji’an stepped back, wiping her hands on her soaked trousers.

"There. The Qi has finally stabilized," Ji’an panted, shivering violently as the ambient cold finally penetrated her exhausted Yang aura. "No need for thanks. You’re welcome."