Grace Carter watched as everything settled down and was just about to return to her small courtyard to rest, when she was caught off guard by the appearance of someone in white beside her.

It was her eldest senior brother, Jack Morgan.

In terms of swordsmanship, her senior brother was unmatched; in real combat, he had not tasted defeat for years, making him the undisputed top disciple of the sect.

Compared to the ever-unruly Skyson, the calm and gentle Jack Morgan was much more like their master.

It was said that this senior brother was as pure as the breeze and the moon, always wearing a smile at the corners of his mouth, but only Grace Carter knew that he was, in truth, a black-hearted lotus through and through.

Before entering the immortal sect, Jack Morgan had been the only son of a wealthy merchant family. Because his parents trusted the wrong people, the family was wiped out in a disaster when he was twelve, and all their assets were seized by his father’s most trusted friend.

Thanks to Jack Morgan’s mother, who bought time with her life, a loyal servant managed to get him out of the manor, allowing him to barely escape with his life.

From then on, Jack Morgan trusted no one.

Though he was always polite and proper to everyone, he never gave his true heart, maintaining an invisible, unapproachable distance;

The gentler he was when chatting with you, the more decisive and composed he would be when ending your life with a single sword strike upon discovering your betrayal.

It’s easy to imagine how much he loathed the original protagonist, who kept courting disaster, in the later parts of the original story.

Grace Carter glanced at his smiling eyes, gathered her thoughts, and called out, “Senior brother.”

These days, they didn’t interact much. Jack Morgan merely saw her as a spoiled and willful little junior sister—he didn’t like her, but he couldn’t say he disliked her either.

So he returned her greeting with a smile: “Junior sister Grace Carter. Before leaving, Master asked me to remind you to practice diligently and strive to improve your swordsmanship as soon as possible.”

He was referring to her losing to the outer sect disciple.

Grace Carter nodded obediently, guessing it was time for her to act up again, and sure enough, her mind buzzed.

[Ding dong!]

[Jack Morgan is highly skilled in swordsmanship and has achieved great cultivation. Although you know he dislikes your unruly and willful nature, you can do nothing about it. Why not try a beauty trap—if he falls for you, wouldn’t secret techniques and treasures be within easy reach?]

[Please say the following lines to Jack Morgan.]

Then came a string of cringe-worthy black-and-white text. Grace Carter wanted nothing more than to cover her eyes and scream: My god, my god!

Original protagonist, these thoughts are not good.

Why are you always trying to take advantage of others? You have arms and legs, and you’re a swordsmanship prodigy admired by all—why insist on clinging to someone else?

If you really dislike them, wouldn’t it be more satisfying to work hard and beat them to the ground yourself?

Grace Carter just couldn’t understand.

But the system didn’t care whether she understood or not—the lines had to be spoken.

“Senior brother.”

She was supposed to act weak and sorrowful while saying this, but she just didn’t have the nerve. Her face remained expressionless and motionless the whole time, like a line-reciting machine: “Losing to Henry Clark made me so sad.”

Jack Morgan: “Mm.”

“Now even Master wants to take him as a disciple. I have no one else to rely on—only you, senior brother, can help me.”

Jack Morgan fell silent.

Grace Carter took a deep breath and continued in a tone as if facing death: “So! Tonight at the hour of the pig! Are you free?”

Her expression was blank and her voice thunderous; by the time she finished, her face had gone several shades paler. According to the original plot, Jack Morgan would immediately realize his little junior sister was inviting him to a tryst and would refuse her without hesitation.

—Not to mention, the original described her actions and expressions at length: “her voice as soft as a silken thread,” “her fingers gently tugging at Jack Morgan’s sleeve,” “a faint fragrance wafting.” Even Grace Carter, as a girl, found it hard to resist, yet Jack Morgan could calmly say “no.”

Now, with her face full of reluctance and her voice stiff as a robot, looking like a warrior going to her doom, he would surely be even more put off.

Grace Carter had already braced herself for a blunt rejection.

Unexpectedly, after a moment’s hesitation, Jack Morgan actually curved his beautiful peach blossom eyes and said, “Alright.”

Grace Carter: What did you say? Are you crazy, or am I?

But the craziness didn’t stop there.

Jack Morgan’s smile deepened, and he even revealed a trace of barely perceptible tenderness: “How about I teach you some… things beyond your age, hmm?”

Grace Carter was stunned.

If her pupils could quake, she would have been shattered to pieces.

Wait, no.

Senior brother, are you always this straightforward? Is this really your character? Wake up, senior brother!

=====

Noon, the small courtyard.

Moonlight danced, thin mist rose, and the tranquil night spread down from the sky, quietly blending into every inch of earth.

Starlight and moonbeams cast a hazy glow, drifting with the wind into the courtyard where Grace Carter was, illuminating the faint blush on the girl’s cheeks.

“Senior brother.” Grace Carter hadn’t expected Jack Morgan to keep his word and actually come to the small courtyard at the hour of the pig. Now, at midnight, her back was pressed tightly against his chest, her sweat-dampened black hair tangled together, the moonlight casting a hint of ambiguity.

Her whole body was wrapped in an unbearable heat. She bit her lip, holding back the moans on the tip of her tongue: “This really isn’t okay.”

Jack Morgan was especially close to her, his palm gently gripping the girl’s slender wrist. When he spoke in a low voice with a smile, the warm breath carrying a faint bamboo scent lingered at the most sensitive spot on her neck: “Is little junior sister tired?”

Grace Carter no longer had the strength to nod.