36. The Little Vixen vs. Yaoguang

"Ghost!"

Yang Fan let out a miserable shriek, clutching his nose as he crouched down. His nose felt a sharp sting, and tears and snot began to flow together. Blood started dripping from his nose, drip by drip.

Yang Fan was speechless. It seemed to happen every month—another nosebleed.

Standing across from him was a tall girl, over one meter seventy, staring at him with wide, startled eyes. She had a snow-white, fox-like face, currently twisted in an expression of pure shock. It was his immediate superior, that little vixen, Tushan Yue.

Yang Fan had explicitly ordered that no one be allowed inside, though he had no idea how she had managed to get in. Then again, it wasn't particularly strange; one could guess her personality with their eyes closed. If those three idiots outside could actually stop her, then pigs would surely be flying.

Tushan Yue’s eyes widened in horror. The room had been empty, yet two people had just materialized out of thin air. Although she wasn't some pampered lady of a noble house—she was used to fighting—she was still a girl of seventeen or eighteen, and these supernatural occurrences terrified her.

As the two stared at each other, a figure suddenly flickered behind Yang Fan. A dainty fist shot out, landing squarely on Tushan Yue’s straight bridge of a nose.

"Ah!" Tushan Yue screamed. To think someone actually dared to strike a member of the Eastern Depot—she had lived long enough to see everything. "Who are you? You dare hit me? Do you know who I am?"

"I don't care who you are. If you hit my master, I’ll beat you to a pulp!"

Tushan Yue was furious. So, it was just her subordinate’s maid, a little slut. But as she looked closer, she realized this hussy was dressed in tight-fitting leather, looking indescribably... well, wanton. Yes, wanton. How shameless! Just like that bitch Lin Yueru, wearing pants so tight they clung to her skin, making her thighs and buttocks look as if they were bare. Even the crease of her bottom was outlined in vivid detail. Why dress like that? A slut trying to seduce her master. Tushan Yue felt a strange, inexplicable surge of irritation.

She raised her hand, fingers curled like hooks, and lunged at Yaoguang’s shoulder. An eagle claw! Yang Fan was stunned; he had never eaten pork, but he’d seen pigs run—he’d seen this move in martial arts documentaries. This strike was aimed at the collarbone; if it landed, it would leave Yaoguang instantly weak and unable to resist. It was a classic technique used by the Eastern Depot to apprehend people.

Yaoguang clearly didn't practice ancient martial arts; her style was more akin to modern combat sports like Sanda, wrestling, and other scientifically grounded fighting techniques. She didn't understand why the "little vixen" was holding her hand in the shape of a chicken claw. However, the force of the wind hitting her face warned her it was dangerous. Yaoguang instantly pulled in her chest, hunched her shoulders, and slid to the side, attempting to dodge.

"Oh? The little slut has some skill," Tushan Yue remarked in surprise.

*Rip!* One of Yaoguang’s sleeves was torn off. The leather garment was handmade from high-quality buffalo hide and was incredibly tough—a meat cleaver might not even cut through it—yet Tushan Yue had torn it away with one pull. A snow-white, jade-like arm was exposed, and a striking red dot on the upper arm stood out like a red plum blossom in the frost.

"You pervert! Why are you ripping my clothes?" Yaoguang was livid and immediately retaliated. Being over one meter eighty, with long legs and arms, Yaoguang possessed significantly more strength than Tushan Yue. Her attacks were sweeping and powerful, characterized by speed, precision, and flexibility, with almost no wasted movement. She didn't waste a single ounce of energy.

Her combat style was professional and refined. Tushan Yue was only a little over one meter seventy, and with Yaoguang wearing ten-centimeter heels, there was a head of difference in height, plus at least ten kilograms in weight. Tushan Yue immediately fell onto the defensive.

Yaoguang’s storm of punches rained down on Tushan Yue, followed by a lateral knee strike that nearly forced her to her knees in pain. Tushan Yue was furious—how dare this little slut humiliate her so? If she didn't take her down and teach her a lesson today, she wouldn't be a Tushan.

Tushan Yue changed her tactics. Gritting her teeth through two punches, she rolled forward and dove into Yaoguang’s guard. Yaoguang’s long limbs couldn't retract in time, and Tushan Yue was already pressed against her, fingers curled into a sword-hand. She touched Yaoguang’s chest, then transformed the fingers into a fist. From less than three inches away, she struck out, the force creating a sharp whistling sound of wind against the chest.

An inch-strike! If that landed, it would surely result in broken bones. Yang Fan winced, his eyes twitching. That little vixen was truly vicious—could a girl's soft chest withstand such a blow? She really had no mercy. But then, realizing she was the Princess Taiping, it made sense. She was jealous—yes, she must be jealous.

Yaoguang was horrified. She desperately changed her stance, throwing her waist back. Her slender waist was supple as if boneless, bending ninety degrees backward. To avoid falling, she grabbed the hem of Tushan Yue’s pleated skirt.

Tushan Yue’s punch missed, and unable to stop her momentum, she simply followed Yaoguang down, swinging her right elbow forward to strike at Yaoguang’s chin. However, the little vixen hadn't expected her skirt to be pulled up by Yaoguang. As she stuck her rear out, she was instantly exposed.

Yang Fan’s nosebleed was truly unstoppable now. Two snow-white legs, long, firm, and beautiful, without a trace of fat. Yang Fan muttered to himself, "It’s not my fault, blame the clothes of this era for being too simple, without those... those undergarments."

The little vixen felt a chill and instantly understood what had happened—and Yang Fan was right behind her! Shame and anger flared, turning her skin red. "I’ll kill you!"

Her elbow grazed the side of Yaoguang’s face, and her body slammed into her, causing both women to fall. They tumbled into a heap. Both were using close-quarters combat—gouging eyes, locking throats, breaking joints, elbow strikes, and knee thrusts. Their limbs were tangled, rolling back and forth. The scene looked erotic, but it was actually incredibly dangerous; they were fighting within three inches, using ruthless, lethal moves. One wrong hit would be devastating.

With hair disheveled and pins scattered, they fought from the floor to the daybed, and back to the floor again. *Rip!* The little vixen let out an angry cry, having clearly suffered a loss as a strip of her bodice was torn away. The white silk binding underneath snapped, revealing a dark green corset that popped up, revealing a generous, rounded shape. On the corset, a peony flower, a foot in diameter, was embroidered in gold thread, shimmering beautifully.

This girl looked thin and tall, but who knew she was hiding so much? Actually, she was quite well-endowed. Yang Fan’s nosebleed was now completely uncontrollable. He hurriedly stuffed tissues into his nostrils.

"Stop fighting! Stop! I’m telling you, we’re all family here. It’s just a misunderstanding—the dragon king’s temple being flooded by his own people! Stop!" Yang Fan tried to intervene.

"Pah! Who’s family with you, you lecher!" The little vixen blushed, spitting the words out. But