The water was warm as jade, half-hidden and half-revealed, stirring heat in her cheeks.
She could even see droplets of water clinging to her master’s long, dense eyelashes, shimmering faintly. When he lowered his gaze, they sparkled brilliantly.
Her beautiful master was disheveled in his robes—it felt far too rude.
Li Yin shifted her feet slightly, instinctively wanting to retreat.
But Yao Guanheng suddenly spoke up. “What’s wrong?”
His words stopped her in her tracks, and Li Yin obediently stayed put.
Then she remembered that her master was temporarily blind. She let her gaze roam freely as she stole glances.
Her dark, clear eyes widened, quietly scanning every inch of him.
This wasn’t the right time for supplementation with her master, and she had no intention of making a move. But that didn’t stop her from admiring the view.
His exquisite features were tinged with blush, like a crabapple blossom intoxicated by the hot spring’s steamy warmth.
Droplets from his wet hair tips fell like dew, splashing ripples around the man.
The water level reached just to his plump thighs—far from the slender build of a youth, they brimmed with the powerful lines of an adult man.
Yet their color was like white jade, as if carved from it, veiled in a layer of thin, water-soaked white robes.
Li Yin’s gaze traveled upward. His open collar barely covered his lower abdomen.
Her eyes paused there. Through the fabric, she vaguely spotted something on his abdomen—or rather, at his lower dantian.
The surroundings were quiet. After a moment, Yao Guanheng heard his little disciple speak hesitantly.
“Master, do you remember that merfolk from the Celestial Pool? I’ve formed a contract with him. I want to bring him back to Illuminating Water Peak.”
A water droplet fell silently into the pool, sending up ripples that were far from calm.
Yao Guanheng heard the lightness in her voice as she continued. “Can I keep him on the mountain? I noticed a mountain spring near the small building…”
Before she finished, Li Yin heard her master say firmly, “No.”
The refusal was so decisive that she was taken aback. She saw his thin lips press into a line, clearly disapproving.
Realizing his tone had been too sharp, Yao Guanheng softened it, speaking gently and considerately. “The mountain spring is too narrow. That merfolk wouldn’t be comfortable there. The Celestial Pool… suits him better.”
Li Yin looked troubled. “But I already promised him. He agreed to help me complete the sect’s bounty task. I just need to bring him back.”
“Master—”
Disciples could be willful, especially in front of their master.
She deliberately drew out the call, letting it drift across the water to his ears.
Her beautiful master pressed his lips together and said nothing.
After a silent moment, Yao Guanheng lowered his eyes and nodded. “…Put him in the lake at the foot of the mountain.”
It wasn’t as vast as the Celestial Pool, but the waters at the base of Illuminating Water Peak were broader than any mountain spring.
Still, compared to the spring pool by the small building, the lake at the mountain’s foot was much farther away.
With permission granted, Li Yin happily called out, “Thank you, Master!”
She turned and left with joyful steps, clearly heading straight to the Celestial Pool to tell the merfolk the good news.
In the thin mist, the beauty lifted his head. His ink-black eyes were calm and silent as he watched her depart.
A moment later, he lowered his gaze and examined his own reflection in the water, scrutinizing his features closely.
Though he was over six hundred years old, in the Cultivation World, a tribulation transcendence realm cultivator at that age was perfectly normal—even remarkably talented.
There wasn’t a trace of age on his face. Since building his foundation as a youth and forming his core as a young man, his appearance hadn’t changed, remaining youthful for years.
He couldn’t match the bewitching allure of demon cultivators like the Gu Person, but his looks were still refined and elegant.
So, where exactly was the problem?
Why…
His reflection in the water showed a flicker of bewilderment.
–
Li Yin returned to the Celestial Pool. From afar, she spotted a silver-blue little fish swimming in circles on the surface, turning round and round.
Perhaps anxiously waiting, or maybe excitedly bouncing.
But when the human girl landed and approached the water’s edge, the silver-blue little fish composed himself. He looked calm and reserved, swimming to the shore unhurriedly.
In that short time, the Player had already labeled him as tsundere.
Li Yin pretended not to notice his earlier circling. “Can you transform? Otherwise, I’ll have to carry you.”
The merfolk in the water leaned against the shore, hesitating slightly before starting to boss her around.
“Help me up.” He extended his hand.
Li Yin bent down. The youth’s hand boldly rested on her shoulder, almost in an embrace, as she helped him out of the water.
The mersilk didn’t cling with moisture when wet, still sheer and flowing, barely draping to above his knees like wisps of blue smoke swaying gently.
What emerged wasn’t a fish tail, but legs—straight and slender, white as snow gleaming in the light.
Li Yin stared openly. He pressed his thighs together, mimicking a tail’s shape.
“I-I’m not stable at transforming yet.” Xinglin flushed, glaring at the unblinking girl. He clamped his legs tighter. “Don’t look.”
His clothes were so thin, with nothing underneath.
The flower seal at his privates was faintly visible, the pink blossoms at his thighs blending into the delicate hue at his core.
It tempted one to lift his hem and inspect the view closely.
Seeing his face grow redder, on the verge of speaking.
The Player had no desire to earn titles like “pervert,” “lecher,” or “degenerate.”
She remembered the cloak in her mustard seed pouch and pulled it out before he could open his mouth, draping it over him.
In an instant, the snowy skin and graceful curves were concealed.
Xinglin’s words caught in his throat. He tugged at the cloak to cover himself, his face even redder.
“You can’t go out in those clothes—you’d be indecent. I’ll buy you a couple outfits later.” Li Yin said, eyeing his build closely.
The youth was slim and elegant, a head taller than her.
As she sized him up, he lifted his eyes and glanced at her. “I-I can weave my own.”
The mersilk he wore was woven by himself.
She’d forgotten—merfolk had that homemaker skill.
“Mersilk is too thin; it hides nothing.” Li Yin said bluntly, then muttered under her breath, “I’ve already seen it all anyway.”
Little Fish glared. The girl smiled honestly, her lips curving lightly. “But it looks great.”
Was it the mersilk on his body that looked great, or the body under the mersilk?
Xinglin’s lips parted, but he said nothing.
He was shy and wanted to leave—or rather, he seemed sulky—but he didn’t take a step.
“What’s wrong? Let’s go.” Li Yin puzzled, steadying him as he stood.
Little Fish couldn’t walk, of course. She quickly realized and guided softly, “Don’t clamp your legs so tight.”
“Spread them, then step forward.”
Little Fish was stubborn. “I know. I’m just looking at the path.”
Following her instructions, he tentatively stepped forward. His pale toes sank into the snow with a soft crunch.
The snow compressed underfoot, crunching lightly.
The beautiful merfolk startled, losing balance. In an instant, most of his weight pressed onto her.
Li Yin steadied his body, preventing a fall.
But she couldn’t hold back a soft laugh. Unsurprisingly, she earned a glare from the blushing merfolk.
“Snow feels like this when you step on it—sometimes it crunches.” She stepped hard herself, leaving a print in the snow. “Snow’s like that. Soil feels different.”
Without using spiritual power, she couldn’t achieve walking on snow without a trace.
Xinglin’s first transformation meant he was still mastering walking—one step, one print.
He’d only gone a short distance when his body swayed more violently, and he finally tumbled straight into the human girl’s arms.
Li Yin caught him fully, staggering once before steadying. She noticed his long legs had reverted to a fish tail under his hem.
The tail slapped the snow discontentedly and impatiently, its fin spreading like a fan on the ground.
Li Yin laughed softly this time. “Guess I’ll carry you after all.”
Little Fish unusually didn’t protest. After transforming, his human-like ear bones had now reverted, turning red.
Though silent, he looped his arms around her neck, making her hold steadier—as if born to be pampered.
Li Yin carried the little fish from the Celestial Pool home.
Well, not entirely—her master had only permitted keeping Little Fish at the mountain’s foot.
The lake at the base of the peak was crystal clear, reflecting sunlight and mountain peaks. On closer look, the water was pristine and transparent, almost invisible, with vibrant koi swimming leisurely.
Shores and lake center teemed with lush plants—vast expanses of lotus leaves and water lilies. Compared to the Celestial Pool, this place brimmed with life, colors vivid and varied.
Considering the stark environmental difference, Li Yin wasn’t hasty. She didn’t toss the merfolk straight in.
She sat with him at the water’s edge, unbothered by her damp hem. First, she removed the cloak and set it aside, then carefully eased his body down, his tail parting the surface.
The tail quivered lightly on entry, fin swishing to stir the current as it adjusted to the temperature.
She didn’t let go, staying to help him acclimate.
The merfolk’s upper body rested on her lap, head turned as he curiously surveyed the surroundings.
Once adjusted, he slipped from her embrace and dove in.
From ocean to her little pond.
The merfolk circled, inspecting his new home.
His silver-blue tail shimmered with flowing light, illuminating everything around it brilliantly.
Li Yin sat on the shore waiting. Seeing the trail of light, she couldn’t help sighing, “So pretty.”
The Player had zero resistance to beautiful things or people.
Soon, Xinglin swam back.
Li Yin asked, “Satisfied?”
His tail flicked contentedly, but his mouth was contrary. “So-so.”
Then he reached out again. “Help me up.”
Did good looks mean he could do as he pleased?
The Player silently agreed and helped him up once more.
This transformation was smoother. Xinglin’s legs tested the ground. “Let me feel what the ground here’s like.”
He seemed thoughtful. Li Yin draped the cloak over him from the side, shielding his exposed body.
No snow here—the grass was lush, soil soft.
The merfolk took a few steps but struggled with the grass, losing balance easily. He toppled toward the human girl.
Li Yin caught him, but off-guard, she tumbled with him into the flowerbed.
Flowers and grass bloomed thickly around—no pain on falling like at the Celestial Pool, just some crushed blooms.
The handsome youth landed in her arms, wildflower scent wafting.
The human girl suddenly asked, “Did you fall on me on purpose?”
Xinglin’s cheeks flushed as he shot back quickly, “No way.”
Li Yin nodded solemnly, playing along. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You learned fast, walk steady. Falling into my arms was just payback.”
Little Fish glared. “Shut up.”
“Alright, payback time.” Li Yin wasn’t intimidated. She plucked a petal from his eye corner, sniffing it. “How’s your mood now?”
“Not bad, I guess.” Xinglin fidgeted.
He knew what she meant. The tsundere little fish wouldn’t say it first—he waited for her prompt.
“So, can you help me out now?”