Chapter 148: Shizun Is a Natural Tease

Mo Ran was caught flat-footed; he hadn't expected Chu Wanning

to come swinging at him and narrowly dodged the tip of the sword as it

brushed past his chest. "If Shizun wants to spar with me, at least try on the

clothes first. Uncle is still waiting to hear back."

"Spar first, clothes after."

"This is kinda urgent; the tailor is waiting to make adjustments if

anything doesn't fit."

"Come at me, then."

Mo Ran was rendered speechless. This was a quality Chu Wanning

shared with Xue Meng—once they became competitive, it was hard to talk

them down. In the course of this short exchange, Chu Wanning's longsword

had already struck at Mo Ran's vital points several times. Mo Ran only

managed to emerge unscathed by virtue of his extensive training; had he

been a second slower, he might have been wounded, and his clothes would

have been ruined either way.

The sword came down on Mo Ran's shoulder, but Chu Wanning

managed to hold back and merely struck him with the flat of the blade. He

sneered in cold challenge, "Mo-zongshi, is that the best you've got?"

Cornered like this, unable to so much as put aside the clothes in his

arms, Mo Ran smiled ruefully. "Shizun's done going easy on me and wants

to bully me instead?"

Chu Wanning's gaze was sharp as the blade, and his swordlike brows

drew together slightly. "Did you think I would go easy on you forever?"

"Ha ha, that's true."

"Well, are we doing this or not?"

"Okay, okay, let's spar, let's spar." Smiling, Mo Ran shook his head.

A light flared at the tip of his finger. "Jiangui, come!"

Jiangui answered the call, but since Chu Wanning was wielding an

ordinary blade, Mo Ran didn't inject any spiritual energy. His hand had

barely closed around the willow vine when the sword thrust toward him

again. Mo Ran jumped a few steps backward and flicked the willow whip,

which wrapped around the hilt of Chu Wanning's sword.

Unfazed, Chu Wanning effortlessly tugged the hilt free with a twist of

his wrist. He darted behind Mo Ran, devilishly fast, and held his blade to

Mo Ran's throat. Pressed against Mo Ran's back, he said somewhat

gloomily, "You weren't concentrating. Again."

Chu Wanning's breath brushed soft and warm against Mo Ran's ear,

sending heat surging through him. His throat bobbed beneath the sword's

edge as he chuckled and said, voice low, "Shizun, don't be so quick to

judge. Look closer and see for yourself if I was concentrating or not."

At this, Chu Wanning realized with a shock that Mo Ran's willow

vine had somehow wrapped itself around his arm, firmly restraining him.

He was unable to move an inch.

Chu Wanning eyed his arm for a long moment. His eyes lit with a

keen flash. "Mn? Not bad, I take it back."

Mo Ran grinned. "No takebacks."

"What do you want then?"

"I want Shizun to try on the clothes."

Chu Wanning hmphed. "Let's see who wins first."

As he spoke, he channeled a powerful jolt of spiritual energy through

his right arm, throwing Jiangui off. He leapt back, putting distance between

himself and Mo Ran as his sword flashed through the air toward its target.

Mo Ran had no choice but to raise his whip to meet the attack. The willow

vine and sword clashed in the air. Neither weapon was infused with spiritual

energy, so there was none of the usual spectacle of fiery sparks.

Nevertheless, every blow was immensely skilled, fluid and precise. One of

Mo Ran's arms was still occupied with the clothes meant for Chu Wanning,

so Chu Wanning limited himself to using his right hand to spar.

In the blink of an eye, the two exchanged a hundred-odd blows and

fought to a stalemate, surprisingly evenly matched. Chu Wanning's breath

came fast and heavy, and a hot line of sweat ran down his sharp, night-black

brows, snaking straight toward his eye. Fixated on his match with Mo Ran,

he couldn't spare it attention—that droplet of sweat fell past his lashes and

straight into his eye. He endured it without blinking, his eyes lit with a

terrifying brightness, blazing in the night sky. The Beidou Immortal's

combative nature had been thoroughly stirred by his own disciple. He'd

always enjoyed the heat of competition, a good, hearty fight. His usual

coldness and aloofness in battle were only because he rarely met a good

match. But Mo Ran was like a torch, igniting the pool of heady liquor that

was Chu Wanning into a roaring blaze, setting the skies alight.

As the fight progressed, the longsword, unable to withstand the force

of their strikes, creaked ominously. Finally, as they clashed in midair once

more, it gave one last keen and shattered into countless glittering fragments

between the two great zongshi.

"Even the sword is broken now," Mo Ran said helplessly. "Do you

still want to keep going?"

Chu Wanning tossed the hilt aside, eyes ablaze with the rush of battle.

The collar of his white robes hung loose, drawing the eye to his tall, slim

form. He replied simply: "Yes."

Before the stunned Mo Ran could recall Jiangui, Chu Wanning was

lunging at him. He sprang forth like an arrow released from a fully drawn

crossbow, like a cheetah in the wild, like a falcon in the snow. Mo Ran

scrambled to dismiss Jiangui, then raised his arms to block as the two

changed tactics and moved into close, vigorous combat.

Hand-to-hand combat was different from sparring with weapons; the

one with the larger build had the easy advantage. Chu Wanning and Mo Ran

were evenly matched in skill, but Chu Wanning was at a clear disadvantage

this time around. Mo Ran grinned. "Shizun, let's stop here. Without using

spiritual powers, honestly, you don't stand a chance."

Chu Wanning snapped in fury, "How dare you! Insolent disciple!"

"Okay, okay. How about this—since Shizun's mad, I'll let Shizun

make the first ten moves."

"Mo Weiyu!" Enraged by this humiliation, Chu Wanning's punches

and kicks became faster and more vicious.

Haitang petals swirled around them like a flurry of snowflakes. There

under the tree, master and disciple exchanged relentless blows with all their

strength. After another eighty exchanges, Chu Wanning found himself

flagging. He'd been practicing with the sword for about an hour before

Mo Ran's arrival, then they'd traded over a hundred blows with their

weapons. He really was beginning to tire. Yet his eyes were bright, and his

heart was racing. His handsome face was aglow with vitality.

The longer they fought, the more entangled they became, locked ever

tighter in their struggle for dominance. Chu Wanning twisted sharply, elbow

jabbing straight for Mo Ran's ribs, only to find his arm caught in Mo Ran's

grasp. They strained against each other, their arms shaking with exertion…

Chu Wanning's arms were held fast in Mo Ran's grip, the strength in

those long, calloused fingers threatening to crush him down, break his

bones. Mo Ran's primal thirst to dominate stirred at their close-contact

tussle. With a burst of strength, he finally overpowered Chu Wanning, and

then suddenly, with a twist of his arm—

Chu Wanning jerked in shock, but before he knew it, he was firmly

restrained in Mo Ran's sweat-damp embrace.

"Still want to keep going?"

The voice coming from behind him clearly carried a smile. Chu

Wanning, heart thumping, could feel Mo Ran's broad chest flush against his

back. That chest was like fire, searing hot and as firm as iron. It was like

molten lava, threatening to engulf him whole and melt him down. Mo Ran's

lips were pressed to the back of Chu Wanning's ear, and his hot breath

puffed over the bare skin of Chu Wanning's nape. With his hair up, there

was nothing to shield Chu Wanning from the sensation—from that

intimidating, predatory breath, that masculine breath that threatened to tear

him apart. Within their hot, dripping sweat, in their physicality, there was

the stickiness of limbs entangled, wet as lust…

"Shizun, still wanna keep going?"

Chu Wanning didn't answer. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, and

the corners of his phoenix eyes began to redden. Fuck, no way was he going

to yield!

Just as he was about to wrestle free, Mo Ran's lips moved, brushing

across his earlobe in seeming coincidence. Chu Wanning's hair stood on

end at the hot, rough sensation, skin prickling into goosebumps, and he

ground out through clenched teeth, "Let go!"

Despite his sharp words, his body trembled, softly and uncontrollably,

in Mo Ran's arms. How lucky that Mo Ran was tired from all the exertion

and couldn't tell why he was shaking. The truth was, Mo Ran was barely

keeping himself in check and had no capacity to notice aught amiss with

Chu Wanning.

Chu Wanning heard Mo Ran tease in a low, husky voice, in tones one

would hear in the thick of desire, "If I let go, will Shizun finally go

change?"

His phoenix eyes reddened at this provocation. He said sharply, "Let

go!"

But his attempt to break away only made Mo Ran tighten his grip, so

rough and assertive that Chu Wanning's arm was nearly dislocated. His

body went pliant and, despite himself, he let out a hoarse, muted groan.

The sound was too like a moan of the erotic variety. Mo Ran froze, his

lower body immediately answering its call. Their bodies were still pressed

closely together and, petrified that his shizun would notice the hot and hard

arousal pushing against him, Mo Ran instinctively shoved Chu Wanning

away, no longer daring to restrain him as he had.

The moment Mo Ran let go, a blindingly furious Chu Wanning spun

around, clutching his aching arm, and delivered a vicious roundhouse kick

with all his might.

Caught completely off guard, Mo Ran was sent sprawling. He hadn't

at all anticipated such a kick and lay on the ground in a daze. His ribs, he

thought, were surely broken, and his brows were knit in pain. "Shizun,

that's…"

Not playing fair. But he didn't dare finish the thought, only straining

to squint up at Chu Wanning through watery eyes.

He beheld his shizun, robes in utter disarray. The white silk of Chu

Wanning's inner robes had been pulled open in their violent tussle,

revealing a wide swath of chest, firm and smooth, rising and falling rapidly

with his panting. Chu Wanning yanked closed the lapels of his robes as he

struggled to catch his breath. Loose locks of hair framed his forehead and

temples, and the corners of his eyes were yet tinged red from the exertion of

their match.

Chu Wanning slowly straightened, then gave Mo Ran an appraising

look from on high. He lifted his chin slightly, and his gaze burned,

imposing and proud. He inhaled deeply and said, "What does it matter if

you're taller; you still lost."

Mo Ran was caught between laughter and tears. When he spoke,

blood bubbled at the corners of his mouth. "You don't say? I think my

bones are broken."

Chu Wanning fell into a guilty silence. He'd been so absorbed in the

fight that he didn't know if he'd held back with that last kick. He bent to

prod at Mo Ran's ribs, asking, "Where did I kick you?"

"Here…"

"Does it hurt?"

Mo Ran looked up helplessly. Of course it hurt! But he was no longer

a teenager, and was definitely not about to cry about a boo-boo to his

shizun.

When he saw Mo Ran's pale face, Chu Wanning reached out to take

the pile of clothes from him with one hand and extended the other to pull

him up. He didn't realize how much their sparring had taken out of him—

and Mo Ran was tall and strapping to boot. Not only did he fail in his

attempt to pull Mo Ran to his feet, he lost his balance and fell right on top of

Mo Ran. At the pained groan of the man beneath him, Chu Wanning

scrambled upright and began checking him over without thinking. "Are you

all right?" he asked, face stricken.

Mo Ran had one arm thrown over his eyes, and his brows were

drawn. "Can you get off me first?"

Oh good, he can still talk. Looks like I didn't crush him to death.

He tried to rise. But once a person exhausted their strength, it wasn't

easy to get back up after a fall. His legs wobbled, and he ended up

collapsing again. It was a sorry state of affairs.

Alas, this time he tumbled directly onto Mo Ran's hips. He noticed

nothing untoward at first. But Chu Wanning was currently wearing very

little—no more than one thin, silken layer—and this position was rather

awkward. The instant he moved, he felt something hard and huge and at the

ready beneath him.