Descension (BL Xianxia Fantasy Romance)

I stiffened, my frown immediate. Of course, he would interject—and with that name, no less.

Jin Tian turned toward him, startled. His demeanor shifted instantly to one of deference. "Sect Leader Ruan, forgive my impertinence," he said, bowing low. "I did not realize this technique belonged to you. My eagerness to inquire blinded me to your presence."

I bit the inside of my cheek, silently seething. Since when had I officially become Ruan Yanjun's disciple? True, he had been teaching me techniques—sometimes against my will—but we had never formalized any master-disciple relationship. Yet, to outsiders, the assumption was natural. I was known as his… companion, and he was a sect leader. Who else would have taught me?

Ruan Yanjun's smirk deepened, and he crossed his arms, exuding an infuriating aura of smugness.

"But Sect Leader Ruan," Jin Tian ventured carefully, "may I ask why the technique is called Intimate Contact?"

The question made my stomach churn.

Ruan Yanjun's smirk turned devilish. "Because," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "it was created by two people during intimate contact."

Jin Tian's eyes widened slightly before he nodded with a wide, awkward smile. "Ah, I see. That explains it. Truly fascinating."

I couldn't tell if Jin Tian was genuinely gullible or merely playing along with Ruan Yanjun's shamelessness to avoid offending him. Either way, I wanted to disappear into the ground.

"Understood," Jin Tian said, bowing again. "Thank you for clarifying, Sect Leader Ruan. And Priest Luo Fan, thank you for allowing me to witness such a unique technique."

I returned the bow out of politeness, though my thoughts were less than courteous. Meanwhile, Ruan Yanjun stood there like an emperor, not bothering to return the gesture.

As Jin Tian straightened, he added, "I am nearing completion of my compilation of cultivator techniques. Once it is finished, I will ensure a copy is sent to the Eternal Damnation Sect."

"I appreciate that," I replied sincerely.

When Jin Tian finally departed, I turned to Ruan Yanjun, my gaze sharp and unyielding. He noticed, of course, but pretended otherwise, diverting his attention to a cluster of guests who approached to congratulate him. His dismissal of my silent reproach burned more than it should have.

I pressed my lips together, suppressing the words bubbling in my chest. Now that everyone believed I was his disciple, all the credit for my performance in the fight had naturally gone to him. They marveled at how the great Sect Leader Ruan had managed to mold a mere level-two cultivator like me into something worthy of recognition. My own efforts—the grueling hours of training, the bruises, and the mental fortitude it had taken to master his techniques—were nothing more than a reflection of his so-called greatness.

As the murmurs of admiration for him swirled around us, I felt a pang of bitterness. I was no more than a tool, polished and displayed to elevate his reputation.

Nearby, the bride glowered, her frustration evident. The spectacle had stolen the attention meant for her and her new husband, casting a shadow over what should have been her brightest moment. To restore order, the groom's mother stepped in, gently urging us back inside the main hall.

Though the initial excitement around our fight subsided, Ruan Yanjun still monopolized a portion of the limelight. He wore the attention well, continuing to play the role of my master with seamless charm. It was infuriating but, in some ways, preferable. Better to be seen as his disciple than his toy—a rumor already circulating among the guests.

Their glances gave them away – sidelong, knowing, and laced with curiosity. They whispered assumptions about why Ruan Yanjun and I always shared a room when traveling, even when other accommodations were available. I longed to dispel their misconceptions, but no one dared voice the rumors aloud—not in his presence. To address them unprompted would only deepen the awkwardness.

Ruan Yanjun, on the other hand, basked in their attention, a behavior entirely out of character for a man who typically loathed social interactions. His rare amiability made my suspicions stir.

Had he brought me here solely to assert his claim over me in front of an audience?

Several guests approached to congratulate him for "transforming" me into a capable fighter. He accepted their praise effortlessly, never correcting their misconceptions. His silver tongue worked its magic again when the Duke of Yuheng approached, expressing interest in exchanging words with me.

"My disciple is very shy," Ruan Yanjun said smoothly when the duke addressed me directly. "He struggles to interact in large gatherings, so I brought him here to help him break out of his shell."

I frowned, inwardly seething.

Shy? I wasn't shy—I was reserved, yes, but I had no trouble maintaining polite conversation. He was deliberately spinning this narrative to distance people from me.

The duke nodded sympathetically. "I see. Sect Leader Ruan, may I extend an invitation to both you and your disciple for tea at my estate tomorrow? It has been some time since your last visit, and there are matters I would greatly appreciate your insight on."

Ruan Yanjun sighed, as if the offer were a burden. "I'll send word to your estate if we're free."

The duke's face brightened. "Excellent. In the meantime, would you care to join me at my table for a cup of wine?"

To my utter shock, Ruan Yanjun reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine in a casual yet possessive grip. Heat rushed to my face, and I stiffened. The duke's expression faltered, caught between surprise and awkwardness.

"My disciple is exhausted from the fight," Ruan Yanjun explained. "I should let him rest."

"Of course," the duke said hastily. "Forgive me for being insensitive. Please, take care."

As the duke departed, I yanked at my hand, but Ruan Yanjun held firm, his grip unyielding as he led me toward the exit.

"What are you doing?" I hissed under my breath.

"Keeping those hungry wolves from circling," he replied, his tone light but laced with an edge. "Do you see how they're looking at you? Like a pack of scavengers eyeing a defenseless lamb."

I glanced around. Sure enough, several guests watched us, their expressions speculative. But I doubted it had anything to do with what he claimed. They were staring because he was holding my hand so brazenly.

"They're staring because of you," I muttered. "Not me."

"Believe what you want," he said with a smirk, "but if I let go, you'll have half the room clamoring for your attention. Do you want that?"

"Just let me go."

He ignored me, dragging me along until we were outside the main hall. Only then did he release my hand.

"Lord Ruan," I said, my tone sharp, "what exactly was your intention in bringing me here?"

"For you to enjoy yourself," he replied casually, as if it were obvious.

"Lord Ruan," I said through clenched teeth, "I feel uncomfortable when you tease me like this. Please stop doing such inappropriate things."

"Inappropriate? A-Fan, everything is inappropriate to you. If I stopped, I'd die of boredom in days."

"I think you know exactly what I mean."

He sighed, his expression softening slightly. "A-Fan, haven't I told you? I never do things without reason."

"Maybe so, but none of this was necessary."

He smiled faintly, his gaze unreadable. "Perhaps not necessary, but effective. Like when I kissed you in front of your cousin. You should have seen his face. It was priceless. A perfect blow to his pride for insulting you."

I sighed, exasperated but unwilling to argue further. "For the sake of peace between us, I'll let that slide. But I don't want it to happen again."

He chuckled, the sound low and amused. "If you tempt me, A-Fan, I might not be able to resist."

"Don't worry," I shot back, "I won't."

His laughter followed me as I walked away, and though I wished to be rid of his presence, a small, treacherous part of me lingered on his words.