Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

A week quickly pass.

The busy days in the Boundless Sky City had rolled by like water flowing downstream.

The players had spread out across the lower districts, running errands, clearing old ruins, and getting used to their new routines under the watchful eyes of the city guards.

The quiet gardens of the inner palaces had returned to their steady, peaceful rhythm, untouched by the outside noise.

In a wide, open courtyard paved with clean gray flagstones, the morning air was cold and thin.

Shen Xun’er stood in the center of the training ground.

She wore a tight, dark blue fighting outfit that hugged her slender figure, leaving her long, pale arms bare to the morning chill.

Snap! Crack! Whoosh!

She threw punches and kicks into the air, her movements were clean, sharp, and ruthless.

She did not use a single drop of her qi, yet her fists cut through the morning stillness with terrifying speed.

She stepped forward with her left foot, twisting her hips, and drove a straight punch forward into the empty breeze.

The air right in front of her small knuckles shrieked, bending and warping like heated glass under a hot flame.

Without breaking her rhythm, she spun on the ball of her foot.

Her right leg whipped out in a high, vicious roundhouse arc, slicing through the air like a heavy iron scythe.

The empty draft was pulled into the wake of her kick, twisting into a visible, rippling ring of bent space that blew away the dead leaves resting thirty paces behind her.

She ducked, threw a rapid pair of short body hooks, and snapped a sharp front thrust kick forward, her breath coming in steady, controlled hisses through her clenched teeth.

Every strike carried the raw, terrifying weight of her refined muscles, bending the empty air again and again until the entire center of the yard seemed to ripple like the surface of a pond after heavy rain.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

A slow, clean sound broke through the whooshing of her fists as Shen Haoran appeared.

He stood near the carved wooden walkway at the edge of the courtyard, leaning his shoulder casually against a red pillar.

His black and gold robes hung loosely around his tall frame, the wide sleeves fluttering lightly in the draft, his hands resting together as he tapped his palms in an easy, steady beat.

Shen Xun’er pulled her leg back, planted her boots firmly together, and took a deep, cooling breath.

The heat radiating from her skin slowly settled down, and she lowered her head, cupping her fists in front of her chest in a neat, respectful greeting.

”Young Master,” she said, her chest rising and falling softly.

”Your form has sharpened considerably,” Haoran said, taking a step down from the raised wooden walkway onto the stone floor, his boots made no sound against the flagstones as he walked toward the center of the yard. ”Your footwork is quick and steady, and your strikes no longer waste a single grain of momentum. Even without circulating your energy, your physical frame carries enough force to cause fissures in the air.”

Hearing the praise, Shen Xun’er’s lips parted into a wide, bright smile, her purple eyes sparkling with genuine pride as she wiped a thin bead of sweat from her cheek with the back of her forearm.

”It was all thanks to you, Young Master,” she answered, her voice warm and light. ”Everything I have, I owe it to you.”

Indeed. If it wasn’t for Haoran’s help, she would probably still drowning in self pity and insecurities, unable to improve, and would one day be abandoned.

The trials given to her by the God of Space were all to take back her drive and confidence, and the one who orchestrated everything was this young man in front of her.

Haoran stopped three paces away from her. He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes taking in her posture, her flushed cheeks, and the tight leather wrappings around her wrists.

”Hitting the empty wind only takes you so far,” Haoran murmured, letting his hands fall naturally to his sides. ”Punching shadows won’t tell you where your guard drops when someone steps inside your reach. So how about a round with me? We don’t have to use our qi, and no fancy battle techniques or other enhancement either. Just our bones, our fists, and the martial skills we built with our own sweat.”

Shen Xun’er did not even have to think twice.

”I wouldn’t dare refuse a chance to trade blows with you, Young Master,” she said, her grin softening into something more playful, though her eyes sharpened like two polished daggers.

She took a short step back, shifting her weight onto her back leg, and raised her small, pale fists in front of her jaw.

Haoran didn’t raise his hands into a formal guard. He simply stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, his chin up, his dark sleeves hanging loosely down his sides, watching her with that cool, unbothered expression he always carried.

”Whenever you are ready,” he said softly.

Shen Xun’er didn’t wait.

She pushed off the gray flagstone with the sole of her boot, closing the three paces between them in the blink of an eye.

Her left hand darted forward in a lightning-fast jab aimed straight between his eyes.

Haoran didn’t step back. He simply tilted his head a fraction of an inch to the right.

The knuckles of her fists grazed right past his cheek, so close that the wind of her punch stirred the loose strands of his golden hair.

But before she could pull her hand back, Haoran stepped inside her reach, sliding his chest right against hers.

His right forearm came up from below, brushing along the soft, bare skin of her inner arm, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her wrist as he redirected her momentum away from his face.

The heat radiating from her skin washed over his neck.

Shen Xun’er didn’t lose her balance, and instead of retreating, she twisted her torso violently to the side, throwing her left hip hard against his right hip.

The contact was heavy, flesh meeting flesh with a dull thud, her rounded thigh pressing firmly against the outside of his leg as she tried to hook his ankle to sweep him to the dirt.

Haoran smiled faintly. He didn’t resist the sweep with brute force; he shifted his hips with her motion, sinking his weight down so that his lower stomach pressed flush against the small of her back.

His left hand reached around her waist, catching her right beneath her ribs, his long fingers splaying out across the tight cloth of her tunic.

”Your stance is leaning too far forward,” Haoran murmured right against her ear, his warm breath tickling the sensitive skin behind her earlobe. ”You leave your flank wide open when you look for a throw.”

Shen Xun’er shivered slightly, but her face showed not a single sign of embarrassment.

She acted as though his hand on her waist were nothing more than a wooden training dummy’s grip.

”Is that so?” she whispered back, her voice completely calm. ”Thank you for the advice, young master.”

With a sharp intake of breath, she drove her right elbow backward, aiming straight for his solar plexus.

Haoran brought his free hand down, catching her pointed elbow in the hollow of his palm.

The force of the strike vibrated through his arm, pushing him half a step backward, but he refused to let go of her waist.

He pulled her backward with him, dragging her along, and spun her around so that they faced each other once more.

Now they were completely locked together.

Shen Xun’er grabbed both of his dark lapels with her fists, pulling him down toward her while driving her right knee upward in a brutal, direct groin strike.

Any man would’ve flinched at that underhanded attack.

’This girl...’ Haoran reacted with fluid grace.

He turned his hips inward, catching her rising thigh between his own legs, clamping down with his knees so that her leg was trapped securely against his inner thighs.

The position pressed their lower bodies tightly together, the rough cloth of her trousers rubbing against the fine silk of his robes with every frantic shift of balance.

She pulled harder on his lapels, trying to pull his head down for a forehead strike, her face drawing dangerously close to his.

Her warm, sweet breath, smelling faintly of morning tea, brushed directly against his lips.

Her purple eyes looked straight into his golden pupils, unblinking, steady, and utterly focused on the contest, even as the soft mounds of her chest flattened against his broad torso with every heavy pant she took.

”You’re trapped, Young Master,” she said, her lips barely moving, an inch from his mouth.

”Am I?” Haoran murmured.

He didn’t use force to pry her fingers off his collar. Instead, his hands slid up from her hips, his palms running smoothly along the curves of her sides, over her ribs, until his fingers lightly brushed the edges of her shoulders.

He leaned his forehead down, closing the gap until the tips of their noses practically touched.

Shen Xun’er’s breath hitched for a split second, her grip on his robes loosening by a tiny fraction.

That tiny fraction was all he needed.

Haoran twisted his hips to the left, freeing her trapped leg, and used his shoulder to bump her off balance.

She stumbled backward toward the white courtyard wall. Before she could reset her footing, Haoran surged forward like a pouncing beast, closing the distance instantly.

Thud!

Her back hit the cold, smooth stone of the wall.

Before she could raise her fists to defend herself, Haoran stepped deep between her parted thighs.

He pinned her completely.

His left palm slammed flat against the wall right beside her ear, his forearm hemming her in from the side.

His right hand came up, his long fingers gently wrapping around the front of her throat—not squeezing, but resting lightly against her pulsing neck, his thumb resting softly on the side of her jawline.

To take away all her leverage, Haoran drove his right knee up between her legs, planting his knee firmly against the junction of her thighs, pressing into her crotch with steady, unyielding pressure that pinned her lower body completely flat against the cold stone.

Shen Xun’er was stuck.

She could not move her hips. Her legs were forced wide around his knee, her lower belly pressed right against his thigh, her back flat against the wall.

The rough heat of his body was suffocating, boxing her in from every possible angle.

Haoran leaned in.

His face was mere centimeters away from hers.

She could see every tiny fleck of light inside his golden pupils.

She could feel the steady, rhythmic warmth of his breath washing over her parted lips and her flushed cheeks.

If either of them tilted their chin by half an inch, their mouths would have collided.

Yet, neither of them looked flustered.

Neither of them looked away.

Shen Xun’er’s arms rested limp against the wall on either side of her hips. Her chest heaved heavily against his chest, her eyes looking straight up into his face with the calm, steady gaze of a martial artist who had simply lost a sparring match, acting as if the scandalous contact between their bodies did not exist at all.

”You dropped your rear foot when you backed away,” Haoran whispered softly, his deep voice vibrating right against her lips. ”A wall behind you is never an ally.”

Shen Xun’er’s throat moved slightly against his resting fingers as she swallowed.

A faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, her voice low and completely steady.

”I will remember that for next time, Young Master.”

Haoran held her there for a few lingering heartbeats, the cold morning breeze blowing through their hair, before he slowly lifted his knee, removed his hand from her neck, and took a smooth, easy step back, leaving her breathing in the quiet courtyard.

But at that moment, Shen Xun’er moved.