Chapter 338: The Sword Sheath and Ao Yao

Jiang Huai was dumbfounded.

He saw Qin Xuange actually walk out on her own—not rescued, not dragged out, but shattering the crystal herself and stepping out one step at a time.

Her movements were unhurried, her steps steady—not the slightest sign of someone who had been trapped.

Song Ning had drawn his sword halfway, the gleaming blade stuck, unable to advance or retreat.

He knew Qin Xuange’s true strength. Among the younger generation of the Five Dragons, she was the uncontested number one. Probably only Ao Yao with her short sword could reliably beat her.

But that was in a fair fight, not when she had been completely corrupted by an Extraterrestrial Demon. Unless Qin Qingyue was responsible.

“She’s already out, so why are you still drawing your sword?!”

Ao Yao pounded on Jiang Huai while cursing, her tiny fists hitting his back with a mix of anger and shame.

Jiang Huai relaxed his grip slightly.

The sword sheath seemed to have a magnetic pull. An invisible force surged from within, slowly swallowing the blade back in.

Gurgle, gurgle.

Song Ning felt as if the sword sheath had become enchanted—it never had an automatic retraction function before, had it?

Qin Qingyue landed beside Jiang Huai in a flash. She looked him over left and right, confirming he was unharmed, then patted her chest and let out a long sigh of relief.

“You’re okay, thank goodness. You scared me to death.”

She began to glance around, her gaze sweeping over the strange secret realm and the bizarre tree that was trembling violently.

“Where is this? The Five Provinces?”

Then her expression turned hostile as she fixed her eyes on the tree.

The tree looked as if it had seen a ghost.

Its tentacles quaked wildly, branches flailed, and a fine, sweat-like liquid oozed from its bark.

How many years had it lived? How many cultivators had it seen? But never had it encountered divine sense like this.

This divine sense was too overwhelming.

Even the strongest cultivator it had ever met was at the Great Ascension stage—vast and majestic, but nowhere near this… this…

It didn’t know how to describe it.

It only felt that when that gaze fell on it, it was as if it had been locked in place, too afraid to move.

Even though she was borrowing a body, Jiang Huai recognized her immediately as Qin Qingyue.

He smiled, his voice tinged with relief.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t worry about what’s happening here. I can handle it.”

“Thanks to you, otherwise I’d have to draw my sword…”

Before he could finish, Qin Qingyue stepped forward, cupped his face, and kissed him.

The movement was as quick as a dragonfly skimming water, as soft as a falling petal.

Her hands held his face, her palms against his cheeks, carrying a faint fragrance, their breaths mingling.

Her voice gradually faded like a receding wind.

“I’m glad you’re okay. I can’t stay long. Wu Zhaohua is still protecting my body—I’m afraid she won’t be able to hold on…”

Her voice grew even softer.

“I missed you. Take good care of yourself…”

Before she could finish the last sentence, her voice vanished completely.

Jiang Huai opened his mouth.

He felt the residual warmth on his lips—it was still there, but she was gone.

He watched Qin Xuange’s eyes gradually dim, the fierce light in those crimson dragon eyes fading, then brightening again.

The eyes regained their focus, their spark.

“So that’s how it is…”

Jiang Huai murmured, his voice very soft, tinged with melancholy.

“Take care of yourself with her…”

Qin Xuange took control of the body.

She looked at Jiang Huai in front of her, and two patches of light red immediately rose on her face. She bit her red lip.

‘Senior Qin really is something—she’s already so used to using my body, and she kissed him like that without even a heads-up!’

“You’re okay—that’s great.”

She awkwardly let go, forcing an embarrassed smile.

“If it weren’t for Honored Master, I’d probably be done for, hahahaha…”

Qin Xuange turned her attention to Ao Yao.

Ao Yao pretended not to see her, burying her face against Jiang Huai’s back, playing dead.

Her tiny head hid between his shoulder blades, her whole body curling up as if trying to disappear into his clothes.

“Oh, isn’t this Ao Yao, the Saintess of our Azure Dragon Clan?” Qin Xuange teased, her tone mocking.

She couldn’t resist circling around to Ao Yao’s side, tilting her head to look down at her.

“Why are you still on Jiang Huai’s back? Did you lose a bet?”

Ao Yao twisted her head away, her voice muffled.

“I’m not Ao Yao.”

“You’ve got the wrong person.”

Seeing her powerless to resist, Qin Xuange raised an eyebrow and gently grabbed her small cyan dragon horn, forcing her head around to make eye contact.

“What’s wrong with you? Can’t even stand on the ground?”

Her gaze fell on Ao Yao’s waist.

“Where’s your short sword?”

Ao Yao finally spoke, her voice filled with shame and anger.

“Can we not bring that up?”

“It was all for your sake!”

Finally, Qin Xuange noticed the strange “pouch” hanging at Jiang Huai’s waist.

The pouch was bulging and round, dangling at his side, its surface gleaming with a cyan luster. The pattern was identical to that short sword.

“What’s this?” Qin Xuange asked curiously, reaching out to touch it.

Jiang Huai dodged away, cleared his throat twice, and said awkwardly, “Don’t ask. You’ll know soon enough.”

“Ao Yao made a huge contribution this time.”

“I’ll definitely write her a promotion report when we get back!”

No sooner had he spoken than the sword sheath began to emit a “gurgle, gurgle” sound.

It rang out rhythmically, faster and faster, denser and denser.

As if absorbing something.

The sword sheath actually began to shrink, visibly reducing inch by inch.

The bulging “pouch” seemed to have its contents drawn away, its surface wrinkling, its outline becoming clearer, gradually returning to the sheath’s proper shape.

“Put me down.”

Ao Yao’s voice trembled, her breath tense.

Jiang Huai quickly set her down.

Her feet touched the ground, her calves still trembling slightly, her whole body swaying like a sapling bent by the wind.

She looked at the sword sheath at her waist, her emerald dragon eyes filled with complicated emotions.

“Is it maintained now?” Jiang Huai asked Ao Yao.

The moment he finished, Ao Yao’s small belly began to swell.

The tiny belly, previously flat as paper, started to bulge little by little.

Her skirt waist was stretched taut, the skin beneath the fabric tinged with a faint pink.

Jiang Huai’s eyes widened.

“Is this…”

“I’m just small-framed!”

Ao Yao exclaimed in embarrassment, her voice urgent and angry.

“Don’t overthink it! We Azure Dragons are all like this!”

She gritted her teeth, her small hand covering her stomach, the blush on her face deepening.

Then her belly shrank.

The bulge visibly subsided, returning to flatness.

The sword sheath swelled again.

The bulging “pouch” reappeared, round and heavy, hanging at Jiang Huai’s waist.

Then the sheath returned to normal.

Her belly bulged again.

Back and forth, like a tug-of-war, like the tides.

Between the sword sheath and her belly, there seemed to be an invisible channel, with something moving back and forth.

But each time, the swelling grew smaller.

Until everything calmed down.

The sword sheath resumed its normal shape—slim and straight, glowing with a gentle cyan light.

Ao Yao’s small belly also flattened, her skirt no longer taut, the fabric draping softly.

“It’s… maintained… once.” Ao Yao said through gritted teeth, then snatched the sword away and hugged it tightly.