Chapter 121: Probing

Chao’er saw the confusion in his eyes. “Master’s Husband, don’t separate the two of us again.”

That was right. She was neither the little girl who followed behind him on Jiaoyue Peak stepping in his footprints, nor entirely the Demoness hunted by the Seven Righteous Sects on Fallen Immortal Ridge.

She was something newly fused together at the bottom of the Demon Abyss after both were shattered simultaneously—like a white porcelain bowl and a black clay bowl, both broken into pieces, their fragments mixed together and repaired with golden lacquer.

You couldn’t tell which fragment originally belonged to the white bowl and which to the black one.

You could only see the cracks outlined by the golden lacquer, joining black and white fragments into a completely new pattern.

Chao’er said softly, “If you really want a reason, then just look at my memories and you’ll understand…”

A faint blue light flickered in her eyes, and in an instant, an invisible thread connected between them.

She focused her mind and projected her consciousness over. During the casting, traces of Demonic Qi leaked outward.

In a daze, Shen Mo saw a day in Nan Gong Jin’s life.

She woke from meditation at dawn.

The first thing she did was sweep her Divine Sense across the entire Fallen Immortal Ridge, confirming that all three hundred and sixty-five Prohibition Seals were intact.

Then she handled the visiting cards sent by various powers of the Demon Path—some seeking alliances, some seeking protection, some asking her to kill someone.

She had to reply to every single one, her tone carefully calibrated.

Not too close, lest she be bound by obligations. Not too distant, lest she make enemies.

In the afternoon, she received the people she had no choice but to meet in person—some Elder from a Demon Sect, some alliance leader from the Scattered Cultivator Alliance, some expert who wanted to pledge himself to her.

She had to see through every person’s intentions, hear the subtext behind every sentence, and calculate what was hidden behind every smile.

After nightfall, she sat alone on the highest cliff of Fallen Immortal Ridge. Below her, a sea of clouds churned. Above her, a river of stars hung inverted.

She had lived this kind of life not for a day, not for a year, but for a thousand years.

What she craved was—in front of one person, not having to be Nan Gong Jin anymore.

That was why she allowed Shen Mo to lead her with chains.

That chain meant she didn’t have to judge direction, didn’t have to stay vigilant against danger, didn’t have to calculate the gains and losses of every step.

She only needed to follow. For someone who had lived a thousand years and had to make every decision for herself every single day, this state of not having to think was a luxury—more luxurious than any heavenly treasure.

Shen Mo couldn’t comprehend something that exceeded all the understanding formed by his twenty years of life and seven years of a marriage respectful as guests.

But incomprehension didn’t mean he couldn’t exploit it.

In this devil’s den where life is like grass and power is supreme, anything he could get his hands on—even poison—was a good thing if it could temporarily stop the pain and intimidate others.

Being a nominal “Master” was a hundred times better than being a plaything anyone could trample.

As long as it made these Demonic Cultivators cautious, let him breathe smoothly in this godforsaken place, and settle Wan’er more securely—what harm was there in playing this act to the fullest?

Besides, this identity might let him access the secrets of Soul Severing Abyss more easily—learn the terrain, the formations, the guard placements, and even… secretly cultivate or exploit certain resources.

His fingers tightened inside his sleeve.

“Clank!”

The chain snapped taut. The collar tightened around Nan Gong Jin’s slender, fragile neck, forcing a short gasp from her—half pain, half pleasure.

Her body leaned slightly forward, face tilted up, eyes filled with intoxication.

Shen Mo looked down at her, using his height and stance to deliberately create an oppressive, condescending pressure.

“Remember what you said today.”

“Once you’re leashed, don’t think about breaking free so easily.”

Nan Gong Jin’s dark purple eyes shimmered with watery light, as if she had just heard the most beautiful love words in the world.

She knelt down naturally, gazing up at Shen Mo, and spoke in that voice choked by the collar, infatuated:

“Yes… Master. I am yours forever. Leash me tight… that’s better.”

Shen Mo’s stomach churned. He could barely maintain the cold expression on his face.

He spun around abruptly, turning his back to her, and wrapped the chain around his wrist a few more times, pulling it taut like he was leading a dangerous beast that willingly submitted to its bonds.

“Kneel.”

Two words.

Very soft.

Chao’er’s pupils suddenly contracted.

It was the dazed blankness of someone struck by a massive shock, her entire consciousness going empty for an instant.

She looked at Shen Mo.

There was no pleasure of revenge in those eyes. No condescending charity.

There was only a person crushed to the very bottom of a world where the weak were prey, who had just discovered a pair of scissors in his hand and instinctively, tentatively, pointed the blade at the only target it could pierce.

Chao’er’s knees bent.

She surrendered herself to him completely.

Both knees hit the ground with a soft thud.

The hem of her moonwhite garment spread across the floor like a flower snapped from its stem, laid upside down on the earth.

She raised her head, looking up at Shen Mo from below.

Her eyes were filled with a light of near-satiety, utterly complete.

“Master,” her voice was very soft, soft as if confirming something terribly important, “once power is exercised, it can’t be taken back, you know…”

Shen Mo’s throat felt blocked by something.

He didn’t know what expression he was wearing right now.

He only knew that watching Chao’er kneel before him, something in his chest had loosened.

It was the resentment suppressed for seven years—accumulated from every lonely night spent in an empty room on Jiaoyue Peak, grown from under the yoke of the word “virtuous.”

“Call the ones from before.” His voice was hoarse, yet steadier than expected.

Chao’er remained kneeling, tilted her head slightly, and called out toward the door.

“Blood Orchid.”

Her voice wasn’t loud.

Within two breaths, Blood Orchid’s figure appeared at the entrance of the main room.

When she saw Chao’er kneeling on the ground, her steps paused for a moment.

Just a moment. Then she resumed her cold, nearly expressionless face.

They exchanged a glance, and understanding passed between them.

Blood Orchid nodded, turned, and left.

Her steps were half a beat faster than when she arrived.

Shen Mo stood in the center of the courtyard, Chao’er kneeling before him.

Before long, footsteps came from the corridor.

Not one person’s footsteps—three people’s.

Blood Orchid led the way, followed by the three women who had spoken rudely earlier.

The one with the missing ear walked in front, the two younger ones following behind, their faces still carrying confused bewilderment.

The three were led by Blood Orchid into the main room. Then they saw Chao’er kneeling on the ground.

The missing-eared woman’s expression changed instantly.

Not fear—it was the shock of being completely unable to comprehend the scene before her.

The red-robed woman behind her directly opened her mouth, her jaw hanging as if dislocated.

“Old Ancestor—”

“Kneel,” Blood Orchid said.

Two words, devoid of any emotion.

The three knelt.

Not Chao’er’s kind of total surrender. This was forced, panicked—knees striking the ground in three uneven, muffled thuds.

Shen Mo looked at the people kneeling across the floor.

Chao’er was at the front, face raised to look at him.

The three women huddled behind, heads lowered, shoulders trembling slightly.

This was the rule of the Demonic Cultivators’ gathering place. Power is supreme. The strong dominate.

Chao’er was the strongest here, so if she knelt, everyone else had to kneel too.

Shen Mo’s gaze fell on the three women.

“Raise your heads.”

Three heads lifted.

The missing-eared woman’s mouth twitched, wanting to speak but not daring.

The younger one’s eyes were already red—not from grievance, but from fear.

“Western Wing Room,” Shen Mo said, his voice not loud, one word at a time.

“Hot water. Spirit Medicine. For external application. Something to replenish Spiritual Power. Clean white cloth. A thick mattress. Within half an hour, everything delivered. Can you do it?”

The missing-eared woman’s throat bobbed.

She instinctively glanced at Chao’er.

“Master’s Husband is speaking to you all.” Chao’er’s voice was sweet, carrying the trailing lilt of a girl’s coquetry. “What are you looking at me for?”

The missing-eared woman’s body jolted violently.

She lowered her head, forehead nearly touching the ground. “It will be done.”

Shen Mo said nothing more.

The three women scrambled up from the ground and retreated from the main room, hunched over.

Their footsteps were quick and chaotic, as if fleeing.

He looked down at Chao’er, still kneeling before him.

Chao’er’s eyes were still bright, and at some point, two faint blushes had risen on her cheeks.

“I’m tired,” Shen Mo said stiffly. “Tonight, I need rest. You stay quiet.”

He turned and walked out of the main room.

Returned to the Western Wing Room.

Leaning against the cold stone wall, exhausted in body and mind, yet not daring to truly sleep.

Blood Orchid stood by the door, watching Shen Mo’s figure disappear at the end of the corridor before finally withdrawing her gaze.

“Old Ancestor,” her voice was pitched very low, “you overacted.”

Nan Gong Jin didn’t answer.

She rose from the ground and brushed off the dust.

The shadows of the window lattice divided her face into alternating bands of light and dark—her eyes in shadow, her lips in light.

“If I didn’t act this way, how could I confirm whether he’s Chu Yang’s reincarnation?”

Blood Orchid’s brow twitched sharply. “You previously denied that he was Chu Yang’s reincarnation—denied it to his face.”

“I said that deliberately for him to hear. How could I possibly let him know he’s being awakened?”

“How could I tell him—that the door deep in his consciousness wasn’t opened by himself, but pried open bit by bit with my Soul Power?”

“From the first day I returned from the Demon Abyss, every time I approached him, touched him, revealed Nan Gong Jin’s presence before him—I was using my soul to resonate against his Fate Pattern, trying to activate the remnant of Chu Yang’s consciousness in that wisp of awareness…”

Her fingers tightened.

“What I want is confirmation, not startling the snake.”

Blood Orchid was silent for a long time.

The light in the corridor shifted by a line, lengthening the shadow of the long, thin scar on her left cheek by another fraction.

“Have you confirmed it?” she asked.

Nan Gong Jin didn’t answer immediately.

“His Soul Resonance reached its strongest peak the moment I knelt just now.”

Blood Orchid’s brow twitched again.

When the Old Ancestor had knelt before Shen Mo, she had been present.

What she saw was Chao’er’s total surrender, and some suppressed emotion in Shen Mo being touched and loosened.

What she hadn’t seen was—the other thing Nan Gong Jin was doing at the same time.

“I used my kneeling posture to adjust my Soul Resonance to a frequency perfectly synchronized with his. At that frequency, if Chu Yang’s consciousness truly slept within his body, Chu Yang’s instincts would force him to react.”

Nan Gong Jin’s voice became very soft, soft as if she were recalling everything she had sensed in that instant.

“Not Shen Mo’s reaction. Chu Yang’s reaction. What would Chu Yang do when facing a woman kneeling at his feet?”

Blood Orchid didn’t answer.

She didn’t know.

But she heard the answer in Nan Gong Jin’s tone.