Top Grade Immortal Emperor in the Flower City

Oh? Trying to seduce me?

Look, so straightforward, just how intuitive I am.

Ye Ling didn't deny and nodded, "With your looks, a disaster for the nation and the people, I believe very few who see you lack other intentions."

The woman smiled softly, a bewitching charm blossoming like a poppy, poisonous yet irresistibly enchanting.

"I quite agree with what you said. Not to mention you men, even some lesbians frequently show goodwill towards me," the woman said as her fingers gently lifted a lock of hair by her ear.

"So tell me, trying to seduce me takes a lot of capital. Do you have money?" she asked with a flirtatious tone.

Money?

Ye Ling was momentarily stunned, then laughed, "Tsk tsk, you've hit the nail on the head. As for money, I have some, but not a lot, only about five or six billion."

Five or six billion and that's not a lot?

"That bit of show-off, I'll give you one hundred and one points. A hundred for full marks, and one for my admiration," the woman said with a pout.

"However, it's a pity that money isn't useful to me. Even if you had five or six hundred billion, it wouldn't matter. So, how about your martial skills?" she asked with a cunning smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Upon hearing this, Ye Ling's spirits perked up. This woman was damn straightforward, but wasn't that exactly what he liked?

"Heh heh, martial skills? How should I put it? Why don't you try for yourself? Heh heh, I guarantee you'll be amazed."

"Let me put it this way, if this particular 'exercise' were in the Olympics, I'd definitely be the grand slam winner, no dispute whatsoever!" Ye Ling said, tilting his head proudly. He believed his metaphor held much truth.

Damn right, Immortal Emperor here, not some run of the mill shrimp. Back when my cultivation was intact, I could dominate a year-long battle without breaking a sweat, and of course, I'm still no weakling now.

A mid-stage Houtian martial artist, would I really struggle to handle a frail woman in bed? What a joke.

After she listened, the woman burst into laughter, trembling as she laughed so hard that Ye Ling's eyes bulged, unable to stop swallowing saliva.

It's not that I, the Immortal Emperor, am lecherous. In today's world, no man is utterly immune to the temptation of a beautiful woman.

This isn't just psychological but also physiological. If someone claims to be a Liu Xiaohui, it can only mean one thing: the temptation and stakes are not high enough.

"You smooth talker, but what I'm asking isn't what you think. This lady is asking about your real martial skills, the kind used in life and death battles." she said.

As she spoke, the woman walked up to Ye Ling, looking at him with a cold yet seductive smile that carried a hint of terrifying thrill.

The woman's smile was sultry, like a rose—vibrant and delicate, yet covered in thorns, seemingly only to be admired from a distance, not touched.

"However, this lady's martial skills are not weak either. I've not met a match for a long time." As she spoke, her fair fingers crept up to Ye Ling's chest.

With a light tap, tap, she touched Ye Ling's chest rhythmically, yet it sent a chilling sensation through him.

Buzz, Ye Ling instantly felt a tingling sensation on his scalp and a fleeting chill flashed in his eyes, but it disappeared in an instant. This vixen was deadly, capable of killing without batting an eye.

"Do you know you're playing with fire," Ye Ling said as his arm suddenly pulled, and the woman was drawn directly into his embrace.

Indeed, this stunning woman was playing with fire. Right now, Ye Ling was like a barrel of oil, just a spark could set him off.

The woman, pulled roughly into Ye Ling's embrace, did not resist; instead, her fingers kept tapping on Ye Ling's chest.

"Is that so? But don't you know, water can extinguish fire." she said.

With those words, the woman smiled seductively, like a scorching flame in the midst of a cold winter, igniting a fierce blaze in one's heart.

After hearing her, Ye Ling broke into a smile. Water could extinguish fire, but what if it was a raging inferno? Perhaps it wouldn't be put out so easily.

"Everyone has their match, perhaps I am meant to tame you?" the woman said, then with force, she pushed Ye Ling away, a playful smirk on her lips.

Ye Ling, who was in the midst of suffering, suddenly got pushed away and felt momentarily disoriented.

Damn it, this woman must be one of the experts, making one's heart skip continuously.

Unable to help himself, Ye Ling swallowed his saliva, eyes drawn to the woman's long white legs, and smirked wickedly, "I want to try."

As he spoke, Ye Ling's hand reached out and pulled the woman towards him, bringing her into his embrace, his eyes dead set on her delicate cheek mere millimeters from his own.

With a graceful laugh, the woman said, "Try? That could be arranged, but there is a price to pay."

As she spoke, her fingertips slid under his clothes, slowly moving toward Ye Ling's heart, gently drawing circles on it.

"Hey, a price? Believe me, I can definitely afford it!" Ye Ling said, his breath quickening.

The woman nodded, her head resting on Ye Ling's chest, as if a couple were cuddling in an utterly normal embrace.

"Right, what's the price?" Ye Ling sneered, as if determined to have the woman before him, regardless of the cost.

The woman, her face resting on his chest, flashed a devilishly charming smile. "The price?"

"Your life, will you give it?" the woman murmured softly, her voice ethereal, almost enchanting.

Ye Ling laughed heartily, "Heh, I'll give it, why wouldn't I? To die under a peony, even as a ghost I'd be amorous," he said, his eyes gleaming with an unusual brilliance.

"But, you've got to tell me your name, right?" Ye Ling's voice was soft, as if he was drunk with infatuation.

The woman laughed, her entire body shaking with mirth, her finger still tracing in front of Ye Ling's heart.

"Me? My name is Zang Hua."

As the words fell, the woman's pupils sharply focused, and the finger tracing before Ye Ling's heart suddenly stabbed forward, channeling a massive force into his chest.

That peculiar sensation, in this moment, became the call of death!

Whoosh, her fingertip stabbed fiercely, the force immense; theoretically, a single finger shouldn't be able to gather such great force, which was quite unexpected.

Yet this single finger, like water dripping through stone, concentrated the force into one point, the epitome of supreme skill.

One finger, any ordinary person would have likely met their end, and even some Middle Stage Houtian Martial Artists would suffer greatly, if not die, then at least be gravely injured.

The woman's smile was thick, but in the next moment, her face revealed a hint of terror.

Because her finger was being gripped tightly, like caught in iron tongs, unable to move even slightly!