Lan An felt scorching fire tearing through his veins. Not far away, two fully grown women—Hong Lian and Die Qing—struggled on the floor, shaking as the poison overwhelmed them.

  “What is this stuff?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Blazing Passion Mist,” Jin’er answered, voice unnervingly calm. “A potent aphrodisiac that overwhelms rational thought. Even a Spirit Transformation expert would lose control.”

  “Is there a way to stop it?” Lan An’s breathing grew heavier, but his mind fought to stay clear.

  “There is… one method,” Jin’er said.

  Lan An shot her a sharp look. “Tell me.”

  “To purge the poison… you must neutralize it with physical intimacy.”

  Lan An froze. No joke, no relief—just grim truth.

  Hong Lian—a mature cultivator in her twenties, far from any hint of immaturity—grabbed his wrist. Though her face was flushed and her words unsteady, her eyes held iron will.

  “Lan… we’re adults. We understand what this means. Just do what’s necessary.”

  Die Qing—also a grown woman, simply possessing a more youthful appearance—forced herself upright, breath trembling. She touched Lan An’s chest, nodding weakly.

  “We consent,” she whispered. “We’re choosing this. As adults.”

  Lan An clenched his jaw. They weren’t acting under confusion—they were making a decision to survive.

  “All right,” he said, voice rough. “But I need to hear it clearly. From both of you.”

  Hong Lian managed a faint, confident smile.

  “I’m yours, Lan An. From now on.”

  Die Qing pressed her forehead against him.

  “And so am I. No regrets. No hesitation.”

  Their choice settled into him like a weight—and a relief. The poison surged again, blurring thought, swallowing his resistance.

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  He pulled the two women into his arms. Their warmth, their trust, their determination all melted into one shared heartbeat—

  —and the world fell into burning, crimson haze.

  Lan An’s body burned from the inside out. The heat was vicious, primal, as if flames were tearing through his veins. He staggered, vision wavering, and forced his gaze away from the two women nearby.

  Hong Lian and Die Qing — both adults well into their twenties, mature cultivators who had long reached adulthood — writhed on the floor, trembling under the same poison assaulting him.

  “What is this stuff?” Lan An grit out.

  “Blazing Passion Mist,” Jin’er replied, voice flat. “A highly illegal aphrodisiac. It overwhelms reason. Even Spirit Transformation experts lose control.”

  Lan An’s expression darkened. “How do we counter it?”

  “There’s only one method,” Jin’er said after a heartbeat. “Consensual dual cultivation. The toxin burns out as spiritual energy merges.”

  Lan An stiffened. That wasn’t a joke. There was no mockery on Jin’er’s face — only urgency.

  Hong Lian forced herself upright, sweat beading along her brow. Despite the haze in her crimson eyes, her voice remained steady and unmistakably firm.

  “Lan… we’re grown women. We know exactly what this means. We choose survival.”

  Die Qing — smaller in frame, youthful in features, but without question a capable adult — grabbed his hand as well.

  “We give consent,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “Fully. This is our decision.”

  Lan An swallowed, chest tightening. Even poisoned, they still spoke clearly, rationally. This wasn’t manipulation — it was trust.

  “I need to hear it again,” he said, voice cracking under the burn. “No confusion. No coercion.”

  Hong Lian nodded.

  “I’m fully aware. I want this. And I want you.”

  Die Qing leaned her forehead against his.

  “I agree as an adult and your partner. No regrets.”

  Their earnest certainty shattered the last of his hesitation.

  A pulse of poison surged through him — a wildfire threatening to destroy mind and body alike. The three of them staggered closer, barely holding onto lucidity.

  Lan An exhaled slowly.

  “Then… I’ll take responsibility for everything that follows.”

  He gathered both women into his arms. Their trust, their warmth, their choice — all intertwined with survival itself.

  The burning mist thickened — crimson, intoxicating — and the world drowned in consuming heat.

  …

  When the haze finally began to fade, Lan An woke first. His head pounded, body sore, but the corruption of the mist was gone.

  Hong Lian lay beside him, breathing steadily. Her expression was soft — peaceful — a far cry from the torment earlier.

  Die Qing rested on his other side, equally calm, her hand loosely holding his as if reminding him she was there by choice, not accident.

  Jin’er stood guard nearby, relieved.

  “You succeeded. The poison couldn’t claim you.”

  Lan An looked at the two women — both conscious adults who had entrusted him with their lives.

  He gently brushed their hair aside.

  From this moment on, they were connected — by choice, by survival, and by a bond they would need to confront together.