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[Cold and aloof on the outside, tsundere and stubborn underneath, beloved Dragon-Aotian top x Delicate and fragile on the outside, a cunning seducer and ruthless wolf underneath, beautiful but tragic bottom]
*
Jun Lingxiao was born the favorite of the Heavenly Dao.
He established his foundation at three, formed his golden core at seven, and swept through the Great Wilderness Secret Realm at fifteen.
The entire cultivation world doted on him and held him in high regard, and it was no different after he ascended.
The sole exception was Yun Wuchen.
The young man had no family or connections. He was about the same age, inferior to Jun Lingxiao in every way, yet always competing with him.
The good news: Yun Wuchen was dead.
The bad news: Jun Lingxiao had become psychically linked to a sword from another world. Its master had the same face as Yun Wuchen, and whenever the sword master was punished, Jun Lingxiao felt the pain as if it were happening to him.
Enough was enough.
Jun Lingxiao swore to sever his connection to the sword!
*
After Yun Wuchen was reincarnated, he lost all his memories, yet still found himself facing the same hardships as in his previous life: a family massacre, a master who favored the killer's son, scheming fellow disciples, and betrayal by a close friend.
The only difference was that in this life, a rusty sword kept protecting him.
It hummed a warning when he was near death and trembled to shield him when he was being beaten by a mob.
In a cold world, it was the only glimmer of light he could hold on to.
He treasured the sword above all else, giving it everything he had:
"Dirty? I'll clean you up." His fingertips swept over the blade.
"Cold? Sleep close to me." He hugged the sword tightly to his chest.
"Don't be afraid. I'm here." He whispered to the sword.
The blade shuddered and hummed in fierce protest. The young man didn't notice, assuming it was shy, and only polished it more diligently and cared for it more tenderly.
Then, from inside the rusty sword, came its first furious mental shout:
"Hands off! Don't touch me!!"
The innocence vanished from Yun Wuchen's face, a dark glint appearing in his eyes.
So his sword could "talk"... and it was remarkably sensitive.
From then on, every polishing became a carefully laid trap:
Wiping away blood? His fingertips lingered deliberately over the sensitive grooves along the spine of the blade.
Breathing on it to melt frost? His warm breath just had to sweep suggestively over the guard and hilt.
Keeping it close? His heartbeat and body heat seeped through his clothes, warming every inch of its cold surface.
"Hummm!!!" Stop!
"Clang!!!" Let go!!
The roars in the sword's mind went from furious to hoarse, from warnings to trembling on the verge of a breakdown.
Yun Wuchen smiled, his movements growing more tender and lingering, while his gaze stayed fixed on the sword like a wolf watching its prey.
The abstinent Martial God had spent eighteen years trapped inside the sword, tormented by every faint touch as if engulfed in flames. All he could do was issue powerless "verbal warnings" and watch the young man use "loving his sword" as an excuse to tease him.
At last, his power built to its breaking point.
As Yun Wuchen once again took his time, almost indecently polishing the blade's shining tip, and felt its familiar, violent tremors on the verge of bursting
"Boom!!!"
Brilliant light erupted from the rusty sword, and immense divine power tore through space.
Yun Wuchen's wrist was seized, and the world spun around him.
A hot, solid, overwhelmingly powerful male body pinned him to the cold bed.
Jun Lingxiao's crimson eyes blazed with the fire stoked by all that repeated "polishing."
"I! SAID! DON'T! TOUCH! ME!"
Beneath him, Yun Wuchen's fragile facade shattered, and a crafty glint lit his eyes. Far from afraid, he boldly traced the taut lines of the god's waist and abdomen with a challenging fingertip, his breath hot.
"So this is what you look like?"
"I've finished polishing the blade..."
"Now, shall I polish somewhere else?"
*
Yun Wuchen was born to a life of misfortune.
His family was slaughtered, and his master took the killer's son as a personal disciple. His fellow disciples schemed against him, his closest friend betrayed him, and anyone could step on him, and did.
But even in that abyss of misery, he once saw a ray of sunlight.
When his fellow disciples stole his pills, Jun Lingxiao casually tossed him a broken sword. It was the only scrap of kindness he had ever known.
Theme: I will put an end to your suffering
