Water droplets clung to his long eyelashes, catching the bioluminescence of the river like tiny diamonds.
He didn’t look injured. He didn’t look panicked. He looked like a water nymph rising from a mythical spring to tempt mortals into drowning.
Mo Wuchen, the Shadow Assassin. Another one of Gu Zhiwei’s crazy persuers.
Ji’an’s heart almost stopped.
Not out of attraction, but out of sheer, unadulterated terror.
’The psycho!’ Ji’an’s inner voice scread, her knuckles turning white on the handle of her spatula. ’He’s the duck-petting psycho from before! What is he doing falling out of the sky?!’
Mo Wuchen blinked, looking around at the circle of half-naked, utterly bewildered teenage boys staring at him with their mouths hanging open.
A slow, dazzlingly beautiful smile spread across his face. It was a smile so gentle, so disarmingly innocent, it felt like a warm breeze.
"Oh my," Mo Wuchen’s voice was like velvet dipped in honey. He let out a soft, breathy laugh, bringing a wet sleeve to cover his mouth in a gesture of exaggerated, coy embarrassnt. "I seem to have quite literally crashed your party. My deepest apologies, handso senior brothers."
Tang Bo, who was still treading water right next to the assassin, stared. He swallowed hard, a visible flush creeping up his neck.
"Y-you... you fell," Tang Bo stamred intelligently.
"I did," Mo Wuchen sighed, a tragic, beautiful look crossing his features. He reached out, resting his hand lightly on Tang Bo’s bare shoulder. His touch was feather-light, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down the Class 9 disciple’s spine. "The moss at the top of the cliff was so terribly slippery. I lost my footing. I was so frightened... but luckily, the river caught . And so did you."
He tilted his head, his amber eyes gazing deeply into Tang Bo’s soul.
Tang Bo’s brain completely lted and ran out of his ears. "I... I caught you? I an, yes! Yes, I was right here! Are you hurt? Do you need... CPR? I don’t know CPR, but Boss does!"
Ji’an, standing on the shore, felt a visceral shudder of disgust rip through her body.
’He is weaponizing coquettishness,’ Ji’an thought, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. ’He didn’t slip; there is no way a psychopathic assassin like him would slip on moss. He jumped. He probably saw the camp from the cliff and decided to drop in to evaluate us. And look at him!’
Mo Wuchen was utterly shaless. He was a chaleon who adapted his persona to manipulate whoever was in front of him.
In the original novel, he was famously known to "bend both ways." He didn’t care about gender; he cared about finding weaknesses.
If playing the damsel-in-distress to a group of teenage boys lowered their guard, he would play it like a Stradivarius violin.
And it was working flawlessly.
The Class 6 disciples, who had been trembling in fear of Princess Ling’er just hours ago, were suddenly puffing out their chests, trying to flex their ager muscles.
"It’s dangerous to wander the Lower Realm alone, Junior Brother," one of the guards said, trying to lower his voice to sound manly. "You’re lucky we were here to secure the periter."
"Indeed, I am," Mo Wuchen murmured, swimming gracefully toward the guard. He leaned slightly against the rock the guard was standing near, arching his back just enough to let his wet robes accentuate his waist. "You all have such strong, vibrant Qi, senior brothers. It makes a poor, lonely disciple like feel so... safe."
He batted his eyelashes.
The guys practically puffed up like a mating pigeon.
From the shoreline, Ji’an felt a bead of cold sweat roll down her temple.
’Thank God I didn’t get in the water,’ Ji’an thought, taking a slow step backward toward the fire.
If she had been in that river, Mo Wuchen would have targeted her instantly.
He would have sensed her higher cultivation base, and he would have gravitated toward her, clinging to her arm, resting his head on her shoulder, playing the coy victim.
And if he had touched her... if his highly trained, assassin’s hands had felt the rigid binding of the artifact beneath her wet clothes, or the distinct lack of male anatomy... the ga would have been over.
He would have discovered her secret in three seconds flat.
Furthermore, getting tangled up in the emotional web of a sociopathic assassin was a death sentence. In the story, Mo Wuchen’s "love" was entirely toxic.
He showed affection by isolating his targets, eliminating their friends, and manipulating their lives until they relied solely on him.
’He is a walking, talking, smiling red flag,’ Ji’an firmly decided. ’Like a dangerous bowl of noodles. A poison apple. I will just act like a grey rock lying flat on the ground. The greyest, most boring rock in the sect!’
Mo Wuchen continued his performance in the water, effortlessly extracting the nas, classes, and current quest statuses from the utterly bewitched boys.
"So, you are from Class 9?" Mo Wuchen asked Tang Bo softly, splashing a little water playfully. "But you fought a Shadow-Weave Serpent? That is incredible! Who struck the final blow?"
Lin Ji’an gritted her teeth. How did this bastard get the news so fast? Has he been following us sohow from before?
"Oh, that was Boss!" Tang Bo pointed proudly toward the shore. "Boss Lin! He killed it with a spatula!"
Mo Wuchen’s splashing paused.
The assassin turned his head slowly and deliberately, giving a dramatic effect.
The coquettish, coy smile remained plastered on his flawless face, but as his amber eyes locked onto Lin Ji’an standing by the campfire, the temperature of his gaze dropped to absolute zero.
Ji’an didn’t flinch. She stood by the fire, the flickering orange flas casting long, dancing shadows across her face.
She held her Black Iron Spatula in one hand and a skewer of roasted snake at in the other.
She looked at him with the flat, unimpressed expression of a weary retail worker watching a custor throw a tantrum over an expired coupon.
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