Chapter 232: Taming the Defiant God: Do You Know the Thrill of Whipping a Deity? (1)

The two of them bantered, teasing and mocking each other without delving into deep emotions.

Despite the sharp jabs, the atmosphere remained harmonious.

But good times always felt fleeting.

Once the Moon Queen departed, the liveliness slowly faded away.

After joy came a subtle unease.

Diana sat before a table covered with empty bottles, gazing at the spot where her close friend had left. She sighed softly, a trace of melancholy clouding her features.

"Chasing the pinnacle of swordsmanship with all your heart—how many years do you have left?"

Her eyes revealed a deep sadness as she murmured to herself, "Is it really worth it?"

She regretted it, but she knew her friend’s personality too well.

There was no stopping her.

Without that stubborn obsession, she wouldn’t have reached her current fame as the Sword Saint.

But to live a lonely life, even sacrificing her own lifespan—it was too tragic.

Suddenly, Diana thought of someone.

Her eyes lit up, and a bold idea began to take shape in her mind.

If Shia could help Sistine, then could he also help her master?

If he could aid the disciple, surely he could lend a hand to the master as well?

---

Elsewhere.

Sistine leaned against the door, trying to calm her pounding heart.

She wanted to repay Shia’s kindness. If it weren’t for him, that night might have ended in disaster for her...

Her hand touched her chest, feeling the erratic rhythm beneath her fingers.

She knew exactly why her heart was racing.

The emotions stirring in her heart—she wanted to seize them.

But when facing Shia earlier, even though she was overjoyed, she felt overwhelmed with shyness.

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Sistine had never experienced any interactions with the opposite sex.

So even with these feelings budding in her heart, she had no idea how to act on them.

Especially when his life was already surrounded by so many other girls. Where could she even find her place among them?

Sistine lowered her head and looked at her hands.

Her fingers were long and elegant, the shape beautiful.

But they were not soft or delicate like a girl’s hands should be.

They were rough—callused from years of wielding weapons.

There were so many things she felt inadequate about. Even her hands betrayed her lack of femininity.

How could someone like her stand beside him?

Her self-doubt mirrored Rong’s perfectly.

Constantly worrying about not being good enough, worrying about not deserving him—both chose to work even harder to compensate.

When she was alone with him that time, she had sensed the words he was about to say.

He was ready to give her a title, an identity.

But she couldn’t accept it.

She didn’t want to cling to him in that way.

It wouldn’t be fair to him.

His willingness to take responsibility came from his sense of duty, his kindness.

But someone like her—how could she deserve him as she was now?

Sistine wanted to win his heart with her own efforts.

That was why she found an excuse to escape.

She feared that if he spoke, she wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation to agree.

But it didn’t mean she intended to give up.

She could clearly feel the stirrings in her heart.

I do have feelings for him.

Even if I’m not good enough now, I can work to improve myself, to become someone who can stand beside him proudly.

Sistine slowly lifted her head, her hands curling into determined fists.

With her resolve firm, the next step... was to seek help!

She didn’t have experience dealing with men, but her best friend surely would!

After all, her bestie was the most popular girl on campus, admired by all the boys. Surely, she would know what to do.

---

Having made up her mind, Sistine set out to seek advice.

Standing outside the door, she nervously twisted her fingers, a mix of anxiety and excitement stirring in her chest.

"Click."

The door opened with a soft sound.

Behind it appeared a beautiful silhouette, bathed in the gentle light of dawn.

Radiant, soft, and irresistibly captivating.

Meanwhile, Shia remained unaware of Sistine’s complicated inner turmoil. He was currently focused on the faint signal from the charm on his finger.

He chuckled, his gaze turning dark and intense.

It seemed that the deity had regained her composure.

Moments later, Shia's consciousness sank into a chaotic void. Before him stood the self-proclaimed goddess of Lust.

"Calmed down now?"

Shia's voice was steady, his tone clear but tinged with teasing mockery.

The goddess shot him a disdainful look, her enchanting face exuding arrogance. The vermilion mark between her brows seemed to glow faintly.

But her current state was far from dignified.

Draped in a sheer black gown that clung to her body, she was tightly bound by ropes.

The restraints pressed snugly against her soft curves, leaving faint impressions on her delicate skin.

The intricate binding technique emphasized the slight indentations of her supple figure, exuding a captivating allure.

She was tied up in an erotic shibari style, completely immobilized.

It was artful—kink at its finest.

Yet, faced with the goddess's contempt, Shia simply raised an eyebrow.

Unyielding, huh?

Still full of pride, are we?

But had she forgotten her current predicament?

A prisoner daring to act defiant before her captor?

Clearly, she needed to be taught a lesson.

With a faint smile, Shia nodded, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Bullying a goddess? This will be my first time."

The goddess flinched at his words, her expression shifting as she finally sensed the shift in atmosphere.

This method of binding... She instinctively wanted to back away.

But there was nowhere to go—her entire body was tightly restrained. Movement was impossible.

Watching the boy step closer and closer, she raised her voice in a desperate attempt to threaten him.

"What are you trying to do?!"

Her tone was sharp, but the trembling in her voice betrayed her.

Unfortunately for her, Shia ignored her entirely.

He flexed his fingers casually, his expression relaxed, though his grin hinted at something almost predatory.

"What do you think?"

The loaded question, coupled with their positions, made the implication all too clear.

As Shia closed the distance, the goddess panicked completely.

She squirmed frantically, but the more she struggled, the tighter the ropes dug into her supple body.

Her long, wine-red hair spilled messily around her shoulders, a strand clinging to the corner of her mouth in a way that made her appear wild and untamed, yet irresistibly beautiful.

"Stay away!"

Her voice carried the desperation of a helpless maiden on the verge of being violated.

—But it was all an act.

Though the goddess appeared terrified, her eyes sparkled with defiance and sly amusement.

Her fear, her protests, her trembling—it was all a façade.

In her heart, she found the situation laughable.

She was the goddess of Lust, after all!

How could she possibly fear being taken advantage of?

It was ridiculous.

The boy before her was nothing more than a naïve prey who didn’t realize he’d already fallen into her trap.

The best hunters often masquerade as the hunted.

This boy thought he was overpowering a deity, but in reality, the tables had already turned.