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Not to mention the exorbitant expenditure on sword cases and accessories, the cost of maintenance and repairs for a personal sword alone is enough to drain the private savings of a large group of people.

For a Sword Cultivator, heads may roll and blood may flow, but letting their sword suffer is absolutely out of the question.

To save money to maintain their swords, fasting and going without food or drink is commonplace, and things like teaching oneself sewing or performing on the streets are equally frequent.

What left the deepest impression on Ning Ning was a senior brother surnamed He from the original novel.

Rumor has it that in order to save money, he actually went to a brothel to compete to become the top courtesan. After being discovered as a Sword Cultivator, he brazenly lied and claimed to be a disciple of the Wanjian Sect, only to be exposed on the spot by the Wanjian Sect.

--The Wanjian Sect is the second-largest sect of the sword path, and its relationship with the Xuanxu Sword Sect is similar to that of Tsinghua and Peking University—they are bitter rivals locked in constant competition.

She finally understood what that female cultivator in the cafeteria meant.

At the same time, she realized that the two of them would be meeting frequently from now on.

Let her see, who is it that can't afford to eat all day long? Oh, it turns out it's herself!

This really is a horror movie, damn it!

In the silence between the two, a passage of text appeared in her mind at the right moment, pulled up by the system to help her complete her mission smoothly—it was a segment from the original novel.

The title bore six large characters: Ning Ning Seduced Lin Xun by Night.

[The moonlight sank to the west, the ground before the door as clear as stagnant water, shadows flickering.

Ning Ning smiled tenderly, her slender fingers brushing across Lin Xun's lapel, causing the youth's back to stiffen and a red flush to creep up his ears.

The moonlight danced, dampening the young girl's soft, cherry lips. She opened her mouth slightly, her breath as fragrant as orchids: "The moonlight is enchanting tonight, and this senior sister is in a wonderful mood. Shall we go out together to admire the moon?"]

Admire the moon.

From now on, she'll be tasting goose every day, let alone admiring the moon.

The moonlight sank to the west, the ground before the door as clear as stagnant water, shadows flickering.

Ning Ning smiled tenderly, her slender fingers brushing across the body of the Star Trace sword; her wife's back was straight at all times.

The hand touching the sword trembled slightly.

Amidst the swirling black mist, she opened her mouth slightly, the faint scent of roast goose lingering on her fingertips: "Wife, I don't have the money to buy you new clothes. Forgive me, your useless mother."

Lin Xun watched this scene unfold, feeling nothing but hair-raising dread.

He did not understand why his junior sister would ask questions to which she already knew the answers, nor did he understand why Ning Ning called Star Trace "wife" while simultaneously claiming to be its mother.

He only knew that his junior sister seemed to have lost her mind.

In ancient times, there was Fan Jin passing the imperial examination; today, there is Ning Ning blowing up her cauldron.

Even long after, Lin Xun could still recall the terror of being dominated that night.

Compared to Pei Ji, who exuded the aura of a malevolent overlord—full of hostility and unpredictable moods—Lin Xun, with his "little white lotus" persona, appeared far more refined and ethereal.

A graceful youth, like a jade tree standing in the moonlight. The light from the Everlight Lamp flowed like water, dripping down to illuminate his fair, delicate features.

He was still young, his brows and eyes retaining a touch of childish innocence. His obsidian, glass-like eyes were filled with the gentleness of the night, and his long, trembling lashes fluttered like butterfly wings, casting a thin layer of shadow.

The thin white robe outlined the youth's tall, slender frame; amidst the silent night, he looked like a straight, sharp longsword.

However, seeing his deliberately evasive gaze and the tips of his ears turning a faint red, he seemed less like a once-in-a-millennium sword genius and more like the introverted, shy little brother from next door.

Ning Ning looked at him, then back at the "African wall" behind her, and asked in an uncertain tone, "Are you willing to help me... clean the room?"

Lin Xun didn't look up, nor did he speak; he simply gave a light nod.

As it turned out, Lin Xun really didn't seem like a pampered royal descendant.

While Ning Ning was still struggling with the debris of alchemy furnaces scattered across the floor, he had already finished cleaning up the armless and legless table-brother, the chair-brother whose head had been completely blown off, and the pages of books shattered and scattered by the blast.