While we were still inside the carriage, I tried striking up a few conversations—light topics, casual comments, even a half-decent joke about spirit beasts and their
uncanny resemblance to certain nobles. But Silvia? She didn't even try. Not a single chuckle. Not even a twitch at the corner of her lips. Her silence was as cold and unyielding as a frost-forged sword.
I sighed in defeat, my eye twitching slightly from the awkwardness. How am I supposed to melt those icy walls of hers? Should I bring a spiritual furnace?
Just then, the carriage came to a smooth halt in front of a luxurious restaurant so extravagant it probably served heavenly beast steak with a side of enlightenment. The driver opened the door, and we both stepped out like we were royalty, minus the matching outfits.
As we walked in and took our seats, the attention in the room immediately shifted toward her. Understandably so—Silvia was stunning. The kind of beauty that made seasoned cultivators forget their oaths of celibacy. Her long silver hair, elegant presence, and cool demeanor made people gape.
And then there was me, sitting beside her. The "Ashton family's black sheep." The once sickly, pathetic disappointment, now somehow alive and dining out with the most beautiful woman in the room.
Whispers echoed around the room like spiritual wind techniques: "Is that Sen Ashton?" "Did he fix his health?" "Or is this some kind of illusion technique?"
I scoffed under my breath. Let them talk. I may look weak, but I've got a plan.
Seduction.
Yes. That's right. I, Sen Ashton, reborn cultivator and former strongest in the nine realms, was about to seduce this ice princess. How? I'd use a technique I learned in my past life—one meant to charm high-ranking fairies and celibate sword maidens alike. A technique that oozed sensual allure. The problem? I could barely cast it without sweating through my inner robe.
Still, I gathered what little Qi and began emitting a faint, seductive aura. Subtle, but mesmerizing—like the scent of a rare flower drifting on moonlit wind. Crucially, I directed all of it at Silvia. No way was I letting random guys get caught in the crossfire and start simping.
I didn't want a harem of nobles. I just wanted to crack open her emotional vault and peek inside, see what kind of person she really was.
We ordered food—or at least tried to. Silvia, surprisingly, couldn't keep her eyes off me. Her brows furrowed, confused. She blinked rapidly, shook her head slightly, as though trying to dispel some illusion. Then she cleared her throat and focused hard on the menu.
I did the same, pretending to read while subtly striking a pose—elbow on the table, head resting in hand, gazing at her with the smoldering intensity of a man seeing his first moonrise after three lifetimes in a cave.
I locked eyes with her, not in a creepy way—I hoped—but like she was some legendary treasure I'd stumbled upon deep within the tomb of an ancient emperor.
Silvia froze. Her cheeks, normally pale as snow, turned pink. Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she reached for her tea. In her mind, she recalled the old me—bold, yes
but in a perverted, Gross way that made slugs look elegant. But now? My face had changed. A little more refined, maybe even handsome in a kind of way.
And more importantly—I wasn't leering at her. I wasn't making disgusting comments. I was just… looking. Like she was precious.
Her heart fluttered. She wasn't ready for that. She tried to snap out of it—perhaps shout at me, pretend she was angry. But before she could speak, a foot came flying.
And not just any foot. A noble's foot.
WHAM!
I flew across the restaurant like a ragdoll with a tragic backstory, crashing dramatically into a wall, coughing up blood that I may or may not have faked a little extra of for effect. The room gasped.
"Sen!" Silvia called out, startled and confused.
Everyone turned to stare at the man who had kicked me Edward Jones. A peak 3-star cultivator, arrogant as a flaming peacock. A noble who had once tried to pursue Silvia, but had been rejected
Because our engagement had been already made.
Now he stood there, arms crossed, looking like he'd just stepped out of a cheap romance drama.
"He was looking at you with perverted intent," he said coldly, as if I'd just committed a cosmic crime.
Silvia was stunned. What?! She had looked into my eyes herself. There had been no lust. No lewdness. Just... admiration. Respect.
Still, she couldn't defend me too much. My reputation was, well terrible. Her brows twitched with frustration as she turned to the crowd.
"Healer!" she barked, and several sprang into action—no doubt eager to curry favor with her.
Meanwhile, I was laying on the floor, wheezing like an old turtle, blood trickling from my lips. If this were the cultivation world, Edward's family line would've ended five seconds ago. But alas, I had to keep a low profile.
I let the healers do their thing, pretending to be on death's door, occasionally coughing more blood—though I toned it down when one healer began to panic and prep for emergency spirit surgery.
Finally, I stood up, feigning weakness. "I-I'm fine," I murmured heroically, immediately followed by a huge cough into my hand. So. Much. Blood. Silvia looked at me with wide, pitying eyes.
Though i looked pathethic right now if this happened back then in my Past life i would have slaughtered his Family and Bloodline.
"We're leaving," she said sharply, her voice tight with suppressed rage.
As we passed Edward, she gave him a glare so scathing it could strip bark off a tree. He looked stunned. No one had ever looked at Edward Jones like that before. And certainly not Silvia.
We left the restaurant, her supporting me gently as I leaned on her. She didn't say much, probably assuming the healing was mostly done and I was just milking it for sympathy.
I smiled weakly. "Shame about dinner," I said, my voice hoarse and tragic. "Was kind of looking forward to spiritual crab legs."
She sighed. "This day didn't go as planned."
But then, like a beacon of hope, I spotted a humble street vendor selling hotdogs. Yes—hotdogs. The food of commoners, wanderers, and fallen geniuses.
"Wanna eat there instead?" I asked, eyes gleaming with the excitement of a man who had nothing left to lose.
She blinked in surprise, then slowly nodded.
The vendor, an old man with the energy of a retired Knight who'd found peace in grilling sausages, looked us over.
"Ah, young love," he said, chuckling.
Silvia choked on air. "We—we're not—!" she began, but the vendor waved a hand dismissively.
"Sure, sure, say what you like," he winked, already handing us two hotdogs we hadn't even ordered yet.
"On the house," he added, beaming. "Good to see young folks spending time together. Even if the lad looks like he fought a spirit beast and lost."
We thanked him—some more awkwardly than others—and found a bench nearby to sit.
I bit into my hotdog with all the solemnity. Silvia sat beside me, face flushed, her long ears practically glowing red.
She glanced sideways at me, and for the first time, there was a smile tugging at her lips. A real one.
And just like that, I realized—maybe I didn't need techniques or seductive auras.
Maybe, I just needed to keep being me?.
i don't really know since i have no knowledge about romance since it's the last thing i needed in my past life.