I have passion of furnace in cultivation world

Jiu you remained standing, as she hadn't been invited to sit more comfortably. Yet she made no complaint.

Luo Yang glanced at her, and for a moment, his gaze lingered.

In the soft light of the spirit lamps, her skin glowed faintly. The wine in his body stirred something deeper—heat spread through his veins. He wasn't drunk, not even slightly, but the warmth from the Red Mist Wine had an effect. Cultivators rarely drank for pleasure—many wines were brewed to stir the meridians, the blood.

His breathing deepened slightly. He realized his body was reacting.

Was it the wine? Or her?

Jiu You stood like a silent flame—elegant and restrained, but tempting and seducing. Her robes clung gently to her curves with every breath, and the looseness of the fabric only made her form more lewd.

Luo Yang could circulate spiritual energy to clear the warmth. But he didn't.

The air thickened—not with awkwardness, but with something else.

Jiu You shifted slightly where she stood, still holding the wine cup in her delicate fingers.

She could feel it too—the change in the air. It pressed gently against her skin like invisible fingertips, stroking along her collarbone, brushing the edge of her thighs through her thin robes. Her body had been trained to control breath, heart, and emotion, but in that moment, even she felt uncertain.

So she smiled.

Not the cold, polite smile of a sect master—but something softer. Almost girlish. "It seems a little lonely… drinking such wine alone, doesn't it?" she said gently. "Shall I call for some palace dancers? We have a few trained to entertain honored guests."

She meant it as a light distraction—an escape from the heavy silence. But Luo Yang's lips curled in a faint, unreadable smirk.

Inside, the system chuckled.

[SYSTEM]: Oh? A clever suggestion… This host is learning well. You don't need my guidance anymore, do you? Heh… still, that wasn't a bad move.

Luo Yang didn't respond to the system. Nor did his expression change.

His eyes, however, were calm and unreadable—until they suddenly flicked up to meet hers.

"Palace dancers?" he murmured lazily. "Wouldn't that be… disrespectful?"

Jiu You blinked.

He took another sip of the Red Mist Wine, his voice slow and deliberate. "In front of you… how could mere dancers compare?"

She opened her lips slightly—but no words came.

Then came his next line. Smooth, careless, as if he were asking for tea.

"Since you brought the wine, why not accompany it with a performance yourself? I'm told the Red Feng Sect has many customs… perhaps you could show me one?"

The words dropped like molten jade into water.

Jiu You stood frozen for a breath.

Did he… just ask her to dance?

Her heart beat faster and filled with shame and anger, though her face remained mostly composed. She was the sect leader—she had never done such a thing. How could she now, in front of this dragon-blooded heir?

And yet… The way he looked at her. She hesitated.

But then he gave her one glance. Just one.

A single look, without smile or force—but one that said: I don't expect a no.

And like that, her resistance melted.

"…Then forgive me," she said softly. "If it lacks grace."

She stepped back, placing her wine cup down gently. Then, with practiced fingers, she reached up and pulled a silk ribbon from her hair.

Her long black hair tumbled down like a waterfall, rippling over her shoulders and down her back. Without her high pin, her robe loosened slightly around the collar, revealing more of her pale, flawless skin.

She stepped into the open space before him, beneath the spirit lantern's glow.

Then, she began to dance.

It was not a seductive dance by intention—but it became one by nature.

Her movements were slow at first—arms raised like a crane, sleeves fluttering as if caught by a divine breeze. Her body turned in elegant arcs, like wind circling over a still lake. Each step landed lightly on the polished floor, her bare feet barely making a sound.

The robe clung tighter with every spin. The silk rippled along her curves, hugging her hips, outlining her thighs. When she twirled, the fabric flared just enough to offer teasing glimpses of creamy skin beneath.

A line of cleavage appeared, subtle at first, but deepening with each breath she took. Her spine curved in a way that made the loose robe slip lower. The smooth skin of her upper back was exposed in her thin gauze and just the hint of the red inner lining of her undergarment peeked out like a buried secret.

Luo Yang's eyes darkened. His fingers tightened slightly around the wine cup.

She moved with discipline—but her breath grew faster.

Luo Yang leaned back, one hand lazily supporting his chin, the other resting on the wine cup.

His gaze never wavered.

His eyes followed her every movement, trailing down her arms, her waist, her chest. Her curves bent with the rhythm, swaying like red flames in wind.

The more she danced, the more his eyes grew heated—unmoving, unblinking, drinking in her body as if he could burn through the silk with his gaze alone.

Jiu You felt it.

His eyes were undressing her more skillfully than any rogue could.

And still she didn't stop or she could not.

Her robe flared, revealing a flash of her leg from thigh to calf before falling back into place. She ended with one hand extended gently, her chest rising and falling with breath, cheeks slightly pink.

The silence lingered.

Luo Yang's voice came, smooth and low. "Not bad."

He sipped his wine again, letting it flow cool down his throat. Luo Yang saw everything—from the curve of her waist to the top of her thighs, bare and glowing in the soft light, the edge of red silk panties teasing his vision.

Jiu You stood in place, heart pounding beneath her robe.

"…It was only a sect tradition," she said, almost too quietly.

But Luo Yang only smiled faintly, leaning forward at last.