Chapter 14: A Maid’s Thoughts

The moon sank in the west.

The night on Heavenly Sword Peak was as silent as a pool of stagnant water.

In the courtyard of the Spirit Beast Garden, there stood an old plum tree.

It was the end of winter, and the plum blossoms had long since withered, leaving only bare branches swaying gently in the wind. A figure stood beneath the tree.

Chunlan, a maid and laborer of Heavenly Sword Peak, was responsible for providing water and food to the Spirit Cranes.

She was supposed to be on night duty, but the Peak Master had just driven her out.

As she retreated from the room, she saw a handsome man pinned beneath the Peak Master out of the corner of her eye.

According to the rules, she shouldn’t hear a single word or take a single look at the Peak Master’s affairs.

But the man’s ethereal aura was like a hook, tugging at her heart.

She hesitated for a breath.

Just one breath.

Then, she crept toward the small hut, hiding behind the old plum tree and pressing her ear against the cold window frame.

Voices came from inside.

First, the man spoke of self-detonating his Dantian…

Later, the woman spoke of killing and slaughtering the peak.

Was this something she should be hearing?

She wanted to run.

But her legs felt as if they had grown roots; she couldn’t move a single step.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to run.

It was that there was something in that voice that nailed her to the spot.

The Peak Master’s voice was terrifying.

But within that terror, there was something unexplainable—like hate, like jealousy, and also a kind of… desire that she didn’t understand.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Then, she heard the sound of tearing.

The sound of fabric ripping.

It was loud and crisp.

Chunlan’s face flushed deep red.

Though she was a maid, she was already 20 years old. In this female-dominated world, a 20-year-old woman should have already married a husband and had daughters.

When her mother was her age, she had already given birth to three children.

But Chunlan served on Heavenly Sword Peak and rarely saw any men throughout the year.

Occasionally, when she went down the mountain for supplies, she only dared to steal a few glances at the young husbands at the stalls.

She knew what that sound was.

The sound of clothes being torn.

The Peak Master was tearing that man’s clothes.

Chunlan’s heart raced even faster.

She pressed her ear even closer.

Rustling sounds came from the room, like someone was struggling.

Then came the Peak Master’s voice, lower than before, carrying a tone she had never heard:

“Have you figured it out?”

The man did not answer, only letting out an occasional, suppressed groan.

Then, she heard the Peak Master say:

“That’s a good boy.”

Those four words made Chunlan’s face turn even redder.

She didn’t know what the Peak Master was doing, but she recognized that tone—it was like the one her cousins used to tease their own husbands.

But the Peak Master was usually so cold, so aloof, and so intimidating—

Would she really speak like that?

Chunlan’s heart pounded violently.

The husband from Jiaoyue Peak was Su Wan’er’s Dao Companion.

He was incredibly handsome and managed the peak’s affairs for Su Wan’er; everyone praised him for being virtuous.

‘Virtuous.’

Chunlan repeated the word in her mind.

She had never imagined that a virtuous husband would be pinned down in a room and have his clothes torn.

She didn’t know how that felt.

She only knew that as she stood behind the old plum tree listening to the movements inside, her entire body felt hot.

It was as if a fire was burning within her.

The man’s voice was as soft as the cry of a wounded animal.

Her heart tightened suddenly.

That sound… reminded her of many things.

She thought of the rabbit she had raised as a child and the sound it made when a wild cat snatched it away.

She thought of the young husband next door and the sound of him crying in the corner after being scolded by his wife.

She thought of what her mother had said: a woman must treat her husband well and not let him suffer grievances—

But was the Peak Master making that man suffer?

She didn’t know.

She only knew that that whimper was like a needle pricking her heart, making it ache and itch.

More rustling sounds came from the room.

Chunlan gripped the hem of her clothes tightly.

She didn’t know what was wrong with her.

She clearly should have been afraid, and she clearly should have run away, but her feet were pinned to the ground.

In her mind, Shen Mo’s appearance suddenly surfaced.

Imagining him with his clothes torn, lying there, letting out such whims—

Chunlan involuntarily explored herself.

She suddenly covered her face.

Her face was as hot as if it were on fire.

‘What am I thinking?’

But she couldn’t help it.

On Heavenly Sword Peak, she didn’t see many men all year round. When she lay in bed alone at night, she sometimes thought about it—

Thinking about having a husband.

Thinking about having someone to accompany her.

Thinking about someone calling her “Matriarch,” someone warming her bed, or someone bringing her tea and water after a long day, looking at her with those beautiful eyes.

But she never saw anyone.

She was just a maid who could only watch the senior sisters who had married husbands from a distance, her heart filled with envy and bitterness.

She quietly moved half a step forward and pressed her eyes against a crack in the window.

A single lamp was lit in the room, casting a dim, yellow light.

She saw two figures on the open ground near the hay.

The Peak Master’s back was to the window, so she couldn’t see her face. She only saw that frost-white figure and her flowing, ink-black hair.

And beneath the Peak Master—

Lay a person.

Chunlan could only see a single foot.

The foot poked out from the Peak Master’s side, bare and as white as jade.

The toes were slightly curled, and there was a faint mark on the ankle.

Moonlight shone through another window and fell upon that foot, making it look like the finest mutton-fat jade.

Chunlan’s gaze fell upon that foot, and she couldn’t look away.

She had never seen such a beautiful foot.

It wasn’t the foot of a common laborer. It was a foot that had been meticulously cared for and had never touched rough work.

The toes were rounded, the arch was elegant, and even the curve of the ankle was perfect.

Just that foot alone made her heart race.

The Peak Master moved.

The foot also moved, the toes curling tighter as if enduring something.

Chunlan heard a muffled groan.

The sound was squeezed from the throat, suppressed and enduring, carrying an indescribable…

She didn’t know what it was.

But hearing that sound and looking at that foot, she suddenly felt her entire body go weak.

She had to hold onto the window frame to keep herself from falling.

Inside the room, the Peak Master’s voice rang out again.

It was very soft and low, carrying a sense of satisfaction she had never heard before:

“Shen Mo…”

Shen Mo.

Chunlan repeated the name in her heart.

Shen Mo.

“I want you.”

When the Peak Master said those words, her tone, her gaze, and her unquestionable dominance—

Chunlan had never seen the Peak Master like that.

The woman who was usually so cold, so high, and so unapproachable now seemed like a child who had finally obtained a beloved treasure, or a predator pinning its prey beneath its claws.

She suddenly felt a flash of envy.

It wasn’t envy for the Peak Master.

It was envy for the person pinned beneath her.

To have someone want him like that, to have someone want him so desperately, and to have someone willing to kill and slaughter a peak just to have him—

What did that feel like?

She didn’t know.

But she wanted to know.

Another whimper came from the room.

It was softer than before, more suppressed, and sounded more like—

Resignation.

Chunlan’s heart gave a sudden twitch.

She suddenly didn’t dare to look anymore.

She quietly backed away from the window, step by step, until she reached the old plum tree.

Then she turned, hunched her back, and sprinted back to her small room.

Closing the door, she leaned against it, panting heavily.

Her heart was still pounding.

Her face was still burning.

In her mind, that foot, that whimper, and that name remained—

Shen Mo.