As Lian and Xia’s skilled hands kneaded his aching muscles, Tian Hao felt his body sink deeper into the bath’s warmth, his mind drifting between indulgence and duty. Lian positioned herself behind him, her fingertips working slow, deliberate circles along the tension in his shoulders and neck. Each press sent waves of relaxation rippling through him, his breathing growing heavier, deeper.

At the same time, Xia knelt at the bath’s edge, her delicate hands sliding down to his legs, lifting one foot at a time with the care of an artisan inspecting fine jade. She pressed her thumbs into the soles, finding the hidden knots of tension and expertly unraveling them. A slow exhale escaped him as she moved up to his calves, each motion precise, deliberate, coaxing away the stiffness brought by long days of travel and tension.

"Young Master works too hard," Lian murmured, her voice a warm breath against his ear as her thumbs traced firm strokes along his neck. "Cultivators like yourself must remember to indulge—to allow yourselves to be cared for."

Xia chuckled softly, her fingers trailing along his shin. "Indeed. Power and discipline are admirable, but what is strength without knowing when to surrender to comfort?"

Tian Hao’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the sensation of their touch harmonizing with the subtle thrum of his cultivation method. His Qi responded instinctively, feeding off the pleasure woven into their ministrations, heightening his clarity instead of dulling it. The warmth of the bath, the press of their hands, the teasing lilt of their voices.

Yet, beneath the pleasure, the tension of what he had overheard lingered. He forced himself to stay focused, to absorb every whispered word from the adjoining room. Each kneading stroke, each glide of their fingers, had to serve a dual purpose: relaxation and readiness. He needed to be sharp, prepared.

He tilted his head slightly, letting Lian’s fingers stroke along the base of his skull, his lips curling in a faint smile. "Perhaps there is wisdom in such indulgence," he murmured. "A cultivator must refine both body and mind, after all."

The voices in the next room grew louder, more animated.

“The ritual is the key,” a voice boomed, echoing through the walls, “Once the sect leaders are gathered, vulnerable, they’ll be easy targets. When the ritual backfires, they’ll be too weak to defend themselves.”

“The sect leaders?” Lin Mei’s voice was hushed, the urgency palpable now, each word echoing the growing intensity of the energy he could now feel building within his own dantian.

“The Shroud’s Thorn,” another voice hissed, “it will not only disrupt the ritual, but amplify the backlash. Their very power… it will turn against them. It will poison them from within, a corruption far deeper than any demonic arts. Even those at Core Formation won’t be immune. With a bit more time, a bit more refinement—it can easily bypass even the strongest barriers, no amount of Qi could deflect or dissolve its power. There is nowhere safe.”

“Poisoning Core Formation cultivators?” Jiuwei whispered to Lin Mei, her voice barely audible. “This is worse than we thought.”

Tian Hao’s body trembled, the sudden, nauseating revelation threatening to break through the courtesans’ ministrations.

As the final moments of the massage faded, Tian Hao let out a slow breath, his body completely at ease, his mind sharper than ever. Lian and Xia exchanged knowing glances before moving in perfect synchrony. One retrieved a goblet of fine, amber-hued wine from a lacquered tray, while the other gently lifted his hand, placing the vessel between his fingers.

"For the Young Master's continued enjoyment," Lian murmured, her voice smooth as silk. "A vintage rarely found beyond Skyveil City."

Tian Hao raised the goblet to his lips, inhaling its rich, fragrant aroma before taking a measured sip. The warmth of the drink settled in his chest, amplifying the soothing effects of his cultivation technique, grounding him even further in the moment.

With a subtle nod, Xia produced a fresh silk robe, thin and nearly weightless, draping it over his shoulders as he rose from the bath. The delicate fabric clung to his skin, its cool texture a stark contrast to the lingering heat of the water. As she fastened the sash at his waist, her fingers lingered just long enough to draw out his awareness of the moment.

"Come, Young Master," she murmured, guiding him toward a plush arrangement of cushions that awaited him. "Comfort should never be rushed."

Tian Hao allowed himself to be led, settling into the luxurious pile of embroidered silk. The soft lantern light danced across the room, casting shifting shadows against the delicate curtains that framed the space. His gaze flickered around the room, and he lifted a hand in quiet command.

"Perhaps a fine tea now," he mused, his tone deliberately indulgent. "Something to enhance contemplation. And while we indulge, a performance—a guqin serenade. They say its melody soothes the soul and enhances one's spiritual awareness."

Lian smiled, inclining her head. "A wise request, Young Master. We shall see to it immediately."

Yet, even as he appeared the picture of relaxation, Tian Hao's mind remained focused. The murmurs from the adjacent room had not ceased. He needed more time, more information. Every moment of indulgence was carefully measured, each sip of wine, each note of music another fragment of the guise he upheld. He reclined further, listening, waiting—his senses sharpening for the crucial words he knew would come.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Tea?” Lin Mei muttered under her breath, though her earlier exasperation now overshadowed by her focus on what they were hearing through the wall. “Is he seriously asking for tea?”

Jiuwei chuckled. “Next, he’ll ask for a foot massage. Oh wait,” she added with a smirk, “he already did.”

The Iron Talon sect disciples conversations continued.

“With the sect leaders incapacitated,” one of them said, his voice low and menacing, "the other sects will be vulnerable. We’ll move in quickly, seize control, send the lesser sect disciples to deal with their troublesome members—the ones who dare to obstruct our path. Those sects who align with our plan, those few whose alliances are worth more than merely tribute, we’ll offer them… incentives. A share of the spoils, a taste of the power that’s soon to be unleashed.”

Tian Hao, now fully relaxed and perhaps a little too comfortable, leaned back against the plush cushions as the soothing melodies of the guqin washed over him and the gentle warmth of the tea settled in his belly.

He’d managed to gather enough information for them to act, though what their next move would be, now that the Iron Talons had set their sights on something more dangerous than a mere disciple’s transgressions or sect skirmishes—he had no idea what to do.

“Not just incapacitated,” a smooth, chilling voice cut through the bravado. “It will disrupt the flow, turn their own power against them. Once that happens, we'll grab the treasure, our allies within and without securing our position while they dissolve into nothing more than ashes.”

Tian Hao nearly choked on his tea. The magnitude of the Iron Talon Sect’s plot was far greater than they’d imagined, not just Lin Mei’s fears for her family, but a conspiracy that threatened the entire region's delicate balance, each Sect within their grasp—and each one a pawn in their larger, darker game.

He thought about the other teams, the ones they’d competed against earlier, and wondered who might be working with them.

He quickly recovered, masking his reaction with a forced laugh at one of the courtesans’ jokes, though his hand trembled slightly as he placed his cup back on the table. His mind raced, desperately trying to make sense of what he’d just heard.

The meeting began to wind down, the conversation shifting to logistics and assignments. “The Grand Arena, tomorrow afternoon,” one voice said. “Make sure the disciples are in position.”

“Indeed, some from the smaller Sects must be present," another, more oily voice echoed in agreement. "It must not seem too obvious. Our allies will…” the next words were obscured by a burst of laughter from the courtesans in his room.

“Tian Hao, get out now,” Lin Mei hissed into the talisman. “We need to plan our next steps.”

Tian Hao closed his eyes briefly, feeling the warmth of the room envelop him. The heady scent of incense mingled with the subtle fragrance of Lian and Xia, creating a haze that dulled the rigid edges of his thoughts.

His mind raced, torn between the mission he was supposed to be focused on and the undeniable allure of the two women beside him. Their hands glided over his skin with practiced ease, each touch light yet deliberate, sending shivers down his spine. Their soft laughter, like the chiming of bells, danced through the air, coaxing him to relax, to let go—if only for a moment.

Temptation gnawed at him, a slow, insidious whisper against the discipline he fought to maintain. Could he really afford this indulgence? What if he lost control, got distracted by his own pleasure? The stakes were too high, and yet, the comfort was intoxicating.

His body longed to surrender, but his mind screamed restraint. He knew better. He had to know better. But for just a moment, he wondered—what would be the harm in a brief respite?

Yet, here—surrounded by silken robes, gentle touches, and mesmerizing smiles—it all felt so distant, almost unreal. The warmth of the room, the fragrance of jasmine and sandalwood, the delicate fingers tracing idle patterns along his skin—it was a world away from the cold calculations of survival.

'Why not just enjoy this moment?' a voice in his mind whispered, smooth and persuasive. 'Isn't cultivation about balance? Mind as well as body? Why deny what is freely offered?'

He clenched his jaw, trying to push the thought away, trying to summon the image of Lin Mei’s disapproving glare. But even that, under the haze of incense and the subtle ministrations of his companions, began to blur, to soften into something less absolute.

A small sigh escaped him, barely audible. His hands curled against the silk cushions. Was he losing himself in this? Or was he simply allowing himself to adapt, to blend into the role he needed to play?

Another laugh, light and teasing, ghosted against his ear. Another touch, feather-light, trailed along his collarbone. The line between indulgence and control wavered, threatening to vanish altogether.

Xia leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear, her voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Relax, Young Master," she whispered, her fingers brushing against his neck, "You deserve this."

Tian Hao’s breath hitched, his resolve faltering. Lian’s laughter danced around him, her fingers tracing patterns on his shoulders, her eyes filled with playful curiosity. He could feel his resistance beginning to crumble, piece by piece.

'Focus, this is a mission.' he told himself, but the word seemed hollow now, an echo drowned out by the melody of their voices and the warmth of their presence.

He opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Xia’s, then Lian’s. Their expressions were unreadable yet unmistakable—a mixture of challenge and invitation, daring him to truly embrace the moment.

Slowly, Tian Hao exhaled, allowing a small smile to play on his lips. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'this could be an opportunity—a chance to refine my spirit in a different way. To find strength in relaxation. To prepare for the challenges ahead.'

The rationalization felt thin, yet it was one he chose to cling to. The warmth of the room, the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and jasmine, the gentle yet deliberate press of their hands against his skin—it all weaved together in an intricate snare, one that even he found difficult to resist.

His fingers traced the rim of his wine goblet, the hesitation flickering across his face for only a brief moment. Then, with a quiet nod, almost to himself, he leaned back into the cushions, allowing his body to relax further.

For tonight, he would stay.

If only for the sake of his cultivation.

Outside, Lin Mei and Jiuwei waited.

Lin Mei's ears burned as she heard the faint giggles and increasingly suggestive whispers emanating from the Celestial Suite through the device. Her face flushed crimson, the realization of what was happening hitting her like a bolt of lightning. Her earlier anxiety was swiftly overtaken by a mortification so profound that her grip faltered, nearly causing her to drop the listening tool. She clenched it tighter, her breath hitching.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered under her breath, the sheer absurdity of the situation making her temples throb. "Seriously?!" she hissed, her voice a barely audible whisper. "Is he really doing this… now?”

Jiuwei chuckled, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "I didn’t think we’d hear… that. He’s really taking the mission to heart, isn't he?” she teased.

Lin Mei hurriedly stowed the listening device, her cheeks still flushed as she exchanged a look with Jiuwei, who chuckled knowingly.

“Indeed,” Jiuwei replied, and then added with a teasing glint in her golden eyes. “We’ll debrief him when he’s done… if he survives.”