Fatal to Pretend With a Cheat | Chapter 72 | A Lesson in Devotion | Novela.app

Chapter 72 - A Lesson in Devotion The two youths were instantly paralyzed by the chilling, murderous aura radiating from the man before them. To them, Ye Tan did not feel like a man, but like a sheathed blade that had begun to leak its cold, sharp intent into the room. Terrified, they collapsed into a single, trembling heap, their sobs breaking into incoherent pleas for mercy. They clung to one another, begging the Shadow Guard not to take their lives. Ye Tan, however, remained as still as a statue. He had never possessed the temperament for comfort, nor did he understand the delicate art of soothing a frightened soul. He simply stood there, his fingers curled habitually around the hilt of his sword, watching them with a gaze as cold and indifferent as a winter moon. He waited, with the infinite patience of a predator, for them to exhaust their hysterics and return to a state of calm. Instead, his silence only fueled their terror. Their wails grew sharper, echoing off the walls of the chamber. Realizing his presence was only exacerbating the situation, Ye Tan turned his head slightly, casting a silent, questioning glance toward the Eldest Young Master. Zhongli Zixu let out a long, weary sigh. He stepped forward, his movements fluid and graceful, and with a few soft, practiced words, he managed to settle the boys’ frayed nerves. His voice acted like a balm, easing the suffocating tension Ye Tan had brought into the room. “Fine, if you are truly unwilling, you need only say so,” Ye Tan remarked, his voice flat. In his mind, he had already reached a familiar conclusion: aside from his own master, the people of this world were impossibly difficult to communicate with. He saw no point in further struggle or intimidation. “I have a few questions. Answer them honestly, and that will be the end of it.” Tucked beneath the Eldest Young Master’s arms, the two youths peered out cautiously, nodding their heads in a frantic, rhythmic motion. Ye Tan began his inquiry. He was meticulous, treating the matter with the same grim discipline he applied to martial forms or tactical reconnaissance. He asked about everything—the nuances of how to please another, the intricacies of determining the roles of top and bottom, and the specific advantages and disadvantages of various positions. He was particularly exhaustive when it came to the aftermath, demanding to know the most effective ways to handle recovery and physical care once the act was concluded. To him, this was not a matter of lust, but a mission of the highest priority. At one point, Ye Tan paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “When performing these acts,” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, “do you yourselves find any pleasure in it?” The youth with the delicate tear-drop mole beneath his eye let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Great Hero, it is naturally the one being served who feels the most comfort. We are merely here to wait on others; for us, what joy could there possibly be in such labor?” Ye Tan went quiet for a moment, absorbing the answer. He looked away, his gaze turning inward as he murmured to himself, “Then I must ensure that he is the one who feels the most comfort.” The youth with the tear-drop mole was quick-witted and perceptive. He looked at the formidable swordsman, whose every breath seemed to speak of blood and steel, and asked softly, “Great Hero, have you asked us all these things... simply so you can serve a single person?” Upon hearing his purpose spoken aloud, the icy mask Ye Tan wore finally shattered. The frigid air in the room seemed to vanish, replaced by a warmth that defied the gloom. A smile spread across his face—a rare, breathtaking expression that looked like the first thaw of spring or the gentle brush of a warm breeze over a frozen lake. “Yes,” he replied softly. The youth had previously been cursing Ye Tan in his heart, viewing him as a cold-blooded viper, but he found himself dazed by the sudden transformation. He stared at Ye Tan, mesmerized by the sheer sincerity in the man’s eyes. “...That person is truly someone to be envied,” the boy whispered. Ye Tan nodded, his heart full of a quiet, profound certainty. “I also envy myself.” ***