Not only had her relationship with Tii grown distant, but Sista also seemed to have been angry with her all this time.
Su Ling felt that something was wrong.
Finally, after walking down a long corridor, Sista stopped in her tracks and turned to stand before a quiet balcony. Sunlight poured in from the half-open curtains, stretching her shadow long and thin.
“What’s wrong with you, exactly? You haven’t been yourself for a while now.”
Sista’s voice was cold and sharp as a winter wind, devoid of emotion utterly different from the gentle comfort she’d shown when Su Ling woke earlier that morning.
Now, as she turned around, her eyes were piercing, staring directly at Su Ling, those deep pupils seemingly able to see straight into a person’s heart.
Su Ling held her breath and halted a few steps away from Sista, feeling an invisible pressure envelop her, making it almost impossible to breathe.
“Your Highness, I’m really fine.”
Su Ling’s voice sounded especially clear on the empty balcony.
Sista gave a cold laugh, filled with ridicule and disapproval.
“Nothing’s wrong? Then why are your hands trembling? Why can’t you meet my eyes? Su Ling, don’t forget, you are my maid. None of your movements can escape my notice.”
Su Ling lowered her head.
As expected, Sista had no idea what that night’s actions truly meant, treating her as nothing more than a plaything for her own amusement.
Though the two spent every day inseparable, the distance between their hearts had only grown wider.
Su Ling knew very clearly that the differences in status and race between her and Sista were like an unbridgeable chasm; even if she tried to explain, Sista might not understand.
“Speak.”
She couldn’t let this continue—she needed a reason, a reason that would convince Sista.
“Work has been piling up lately. Maybe I’m just too tired.”
Sista narrowed her eyes, sizing Su Ling up and down, as if trying to judge the truth of her words.
After a moment, she spoke slowly: “Not feeling well? In that case, you may have the day off. Go rest. But remember, this is only for today.”
Su Ling was stunned, not expecting Sista to let her go so easily. She quickly nodded, her voice tinged with gratitude: “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll recover soon.”
Yet Sista didn’t turn and leave at once; instead, she continued to stand there, gazing at Su Ling as if she could see straight through her soul.
“You’ve been distracted lately. Could it be that you’re dissatisfied with me in some way?”
Su Ling’s head shot up, shocked that Sista would ask so directly.
“No, no, Your Highness, I’m not, I’m not dissatisfied with you, nor have I been thinking of anything else,” she denied again and again, feeling her heart pound wildly in her chest, as if it might leap out at any moment.
Sista let out a long sigh, a complicated emotion flickering in her expression, seemingly not fully satisfied with Su Ling’s answer.
She waved her hand lightly, indicating that Su Ling could leave.
Su Ling felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and hurriedly turned to leave the balcony. However, just as she was about to exit, Sista’s voice rang out again.
“Stay in your room. You’re not allowed to see anyone else. Do you understand?”
Su Ling froze.
For a moment, all was silent.
Su Ling quietly returned to the Underground Room, closing the door heavily behind her, shutting out all sound from the outside world, leaving only a deathly silence.
The air seemed to solidify, heavy with moisture and gloom, every breath like drawing in dust from the earth. She leaned against the door, using the thin sliver of light seeping through the cracks to just barely make out the shapes in the room.
Utterly exhausted, Su Ling let out a long sigh and slowly walked to the simple bed, letting her body sink into the cold bedding.
Just then, from outside, came a young girl’s faint, broken sobbing.
The voice sounded familiar it hadn’t been long since she’d last heard it.
Su Ling hesitated for a moment, then stood up.
Although Sista’s order was ironclad and not to be disobeyed, the anxiety carried in that voice made it impossible for her to ignore it.
She pressed her fingers against the door, her ear close to the cold stone wall, trying to catch any other clues from the faint sounds outside.
The crying came and went, as if guiding her, but also warning her to stay away.
“Xi Li…Jiming…”
Su Ling suddenly caught a name among the sobs and at once recognized the voice—it was Marentia.
She was supposed to be working in the garden today, but Marentia had sneaked down to the Underground Room, hiding here and weeping.
“I can’t do it…I can’t do it…”
She kept repeating herself, choking out the words, clearly in deep pain.
Su Ling didn’t open the door, but instead, in the faint light, quietly retreated to her own room.
She truly felt relieved—compared to getting involved, she would rather just get some rest.
So, Su Ling closed her eyes and drifted into a long, dreamless sleep.
In front of the Village Chapel, beneath the drifting snowflakes, the Rebels’ banner fluttered high, marking a stark contrast against the tranquil landscape covered in white.
Villagers came from all directions, gathering in the Plaza before the Village Chapel.
When they first heard that their own lord had been killed, shock filled their faces. To them, everything that was happening seemed inconceivable. They couldn’t imagine that humans, Peng People, and Blood Ghosts could truly fight together.
“Wicked things! Let me go!”
The chapel’s great doors were tightly shut, and the man who had once stood at the pulpit proclaiming the name of the Lord—now regarded by the Rebels as a symbol of hypocrisy, Qian—was being tied up by two burly Soldiers.
His robes were in disarray, his face still smeared with blood from the previous struggle, clearly having suffered in the chaos. His eyes were full of unwillingness, but he could no longer stir the villagers’ hearts with his once-righteous sermons.
“Captain, everyone’s almost here.”
The once outspoken priest was now silenced. The Rebels’ Captain, clad in armor engraved with runes, ascended the temporary platform set up before the Village Chapel, eyes resolute.
“Fellow villagers, I have something very important to say to you today!”
His voice was deep and powerful, cutting through the whistling wind and reaching every ear in the crowd.
“I trust you all remember—the Blood Ghosts cruelly persecuted us, seized our homes. They dwell among us, enjoying the luxury bought with our blood, while we struggle in poverty and cold!”
The crowd began murmuring, some nodding in agreement, others looking uneasy, clearly not yet free from their long-standing submission and fear.
“In the past, we were weak, and could only endure in silence. But now, we have brave companions!”
The Captain raised his arm high, pointing to the two Peng People Soldiers at his side. “Look—these friends from afar share our hatred for injustice and oppression. They are willing to fight by our side and together stand against the high and mighty Nobles!”
All eyes turned to the Peng People Soldiers. Their huge forms towered above the crowd, their faces marked with paint representing their tribes, their expressions full of wildness and defiance.
“We can’t let the Blood Ghosts treat us like livestock any longer!” The Captain’s voice grew more determined. “We must take up arms—for freedom, for dignity, for our families and our children—fight to the end!”
The crowd surged, some young people waving their arms excitedly, shouting slogans, while many others weighed the risks in silence.