https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-126-Cultivation-Techniques-Renting-a-Room-Le-Mulan/13686586/
Chapter 127: Pants Are Already Torn (Still Need Monthly Ticket Loan 6)
Looking at Le Mulan inside the training room, Zhang Yu couldn’t help but sigh in exasperation: “How are you supposed to fight like that?”
She was dressed in layer upon layer of clothing—multiple outfits, thick gloves, a mask over her face—looking like a bulky, overwrapped package.
Zhang Yu mentally cursed. What a freak. This obsession with cleanliness is seriously unhealthy.
He said, “I disinfected myself when I came in. You don’t have to go this far, do you?”
Le Mulan waved a hand dismissively. “No problem. Let’s begin.”
After two months of training, she believed her tolerance for Zhang Yu had improved significantly.
But facing him again after such a gap, she still decided to proceed cautiously—starting by wearing extra layers.
Zhang Yu shook his head in resignation. After all, she was paying him twelve thousand per hour. If she wanted to train in a full-body suit, who was he to object?
He thought bitterly: Damn, being rich is really something. You can actually hire a genius high school boy like me as a sparring partner.
Le Mulan said, “Start with regular combat. Try to drag me into Ground Combat.”
Moments later, they faced each other. With a deep breath, Le Mulan waved her hand, and Zhang Yu charged forward.
Boom! Boom!
Their energies clashed—Le Mulan’s sword qi colliding violently with Zhang Yu’s aura.
She felt a torrent of terrifying force, laced with vast martial energy, slamming into her.
And since she was already at a physical disadvantage against Zhang Yu, the multiple layers of clothing only made her movements sluggish. She was pushed back step by step, until Zhang Yu closed in to within a meter.
Then—everything spun.
A thunderous crack echoed as she was thrown to the ground.
Next, she saw a pair of large hands reaching for her.
As Zhang Yu’s hands approached, a flicker of instinctive revulsion flashed across Le Mulan’s face—her mind seemingly whispering, Eww…
She flinched, instinctively raising her hands to resist.
Over the past two months, she had learned some close-combat, grappling, and wrestling techniques. But against Zhang Yu, she was utterly outmatched.
She felt his hands lock around her wrists, and then his legs began to coil toward her.
“Stop! Stop! Stop right now!” she cried.
Zhang Yu halted, looking at her with a helpless expression. “What now?”
She scrambled to her feet, silently cursing: Just as I thought… I can endure it for a bit, but I still can’t stand it… the body of a poor person.
But she reminded herself—she’d hired Zhang Yu precisely to confront her psychological weakness, to master the flexibility of her inner cultivation.
Yet the thought of his hands—dirty, unclean, constantly touching things—made her skin crawl.
Especially after seeing his social media every day. She remembered clearly: those hands had touched dusty bottles, dipped into river water, gripped street vendor stalls, and—worst of all—had touched Bai Zhenzhen.
The thought of a poor man’s hands groping me… this is far worse than just holding hands last time.
Yeah… I really do need to go step by step.
She paused, then said: “From now on, you defend fully. I’ll try to control you in Ground Combat. You can’t reach out to attack me.”
Zhang Yu shrugged. Whatever worked—paid the same either way.
The next moment, they both crashed to the ground again—but this time, it was Le Mulan who attacked.
She lunged, wrapping her arms around Zhang Yu from behind, her hands locking around his neck.
Her legs tried to clamp around his thighs and abdomen.
But this assault felt like trying to control a giant dragon—massive force surged between them, resisting her grip at every turn.
Compared to two months ago, their strength had both skyrocketed.
The strain tore through Le Mulan’s clothes, even the high-quality fabric.
Crack! Rip!
The multiple layers of her pants split one after another, revealing long, pale, powerful legs.
Zhang Yu’s pants weren’t spared either—torn and shredded.
As they wrestled, their thighs pressed tightly together, grinding against each other. The cold, intimate contact sent an odd sensation through Zhang Yu—distracting, unlike anything he’d experienced with past clients like Song Hailong.
Le Mulan, feeling her thighs press against Zhang Yu’s, visibly grimaced, her face contorted with disgust. Her legs instinctively tried to slide away.
But that movement gave Zhang Yu just enough opening to break free.
She snapped back into focus: No! Endure! You must endure! Overcome your weakness!
Luckily, Zhang Yu was distracted too—didn’t manage to escape.
Instead, Le Mulan seized the chance.
With her arms locked around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist, she tensed her powerful thighs—muscles coiling like serpents.
Shriiiiiiiiiiiiiik!
Her strength tore a large chunk out of Zhang Yu’s shirt.
Now, her thighs pressed firmly against his waist, and Le Mulan felt like she was clamping down on a sack of garbage.
Despite the revulsion in her eyes, she forced herself to hold on.
But then—Zhang Yu blocked her grip with one hand and, with his other, reached out to pry her leg free.
Slap!
His palm landed squarely on her thigh.
Le Mulan’s body was incredibly strong. Once she activated her inner power, her flesh was harder than ordinary stone.
But under Zhang Yu’s grip, her leg instantly felt soft—yielding, as if it had suddenly turned into flesh, sinking slightly under his touch.
That single squeeze sent a jolt through her body—her entire frame locked up, as if she were about to snap.
His hands…
In that instant, memories flooded her mind—images from his social media.
That hand… the same hand that touched buses, sat on subways, grabbed synthetic food, used the toilet at Songyang High School… full of poor people’s DNA… and had touched Bai Zhenzhen countless times…
Now it was gripping her thigh?
Two months ago, the nightmare from the Arena returned—flickering through her mind, clashing violently with her inner cultivation.
Le Mulan bit down hard on her teeth, feeling the pain radiating from her thigh, fighting back tears.
Meanwhile, Zhang Yu—still defending—felt the air grow heavier with scent.
What’s that smell?
Only when Le Mulan locked her arms around his throat, and sweat from her arms began to stain his face, did he realize.
Shit… Le Mulan’s sweat is… fragrant?
No… that can’t be right. This smell…
As their battle intensified, Zhang Yu’s body temperature spiked. Le Mulan felt like she was clamping down on a burning log—her legs and torso growing hotter and hotter.
But her skin remained icy cold. Yet his face was drenched in sweat—her hands constantly dripping, soaking his face.
This isn’t sweat… it’s… medicine?
Is this Ziyun’s potion?
Could it be… this Super Metabolism Surgery is making her body excrete drug residue as sweat?
The scent—pungent, chemical, medicinal—flooded Zhang Yu’s senses. His blood surged, his nerves sparked with unnatural excitement.
No way. I don’t know what kind of drugs she’s on. I can’t let this affect me.
He knew if a drug-enhanced fighter were here, they’d probably lick it—taste the formula.
But as a believer in natural cultivation, Zhang Yu wouldn’t touch anything unnatural.
He clamped his mouth shut, held his breath, and forced himself not to be affected by the scent.
As the sweat spread across her body—especially her thighs, now glistening and slick—Zhang Yu felt the surface become oily under his grip.
Then—Le Mulan finally locked him in.
Got him!
But the second she secured the hold, she instantly released him—rolling backward with lightning speed, putting over ten meters between them.
Zhang Yu lay on the ground, face flushed, breathing hard. On the floor beneath him—a large, faintly human-shaped puddle of sweat, still steaming.
Le Mulan frowned. “Why’d you suddenly lose strength? You didn’t hold back, did you?”
Zhang Yu glared at her. “You’re sweating too much. Your legs and hands are slippery, greasy, and stinking. I’ve been holding my breath the whole time.”
He glanced at her body. Her top was torn, but still mostly covering her. But her legs—her once-protected trousers were reduced to tatters.
On her right thigh, a large, dark bruise marked where his hand had gripped.
Zhang Yu hesitated, then asked: “Your leg okay?”
Le Mulan was still processing his words. She glanced at the bruise, then replied coolly: “Just a scratch. My body produces its own healing agents. It’ll be fine in a moment.”
She tilted her head. “Why did you have to hold your breath?”
“Super Metabolism Surgery makes me absorb and break down medicine incredibly efficiently,” she explained. “I use only the highest-grade potions. After my body processes them, the byproducts—what I call ‘residue’—are excreted through my skin.”
“For ordinary students, this ‘sweat’ is perfectly safe—drinkable, non-toxic, no side effects.”
“You could even drink it, if you wanted. No need to hold your breath.”
She paused, then added, frowning: “But… you cannot use your tongue on me.”
Zhang Yu’s blood boiled.
You damn—
Who the hell cares about your damn medicine residue?! I’m a natural cultivator! I don’t need your junk!
—Please, I beg you, give me your vote!
(End of Chapter)
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