“Ahhh—!!!”
Chao’er’s sword flew from her grasp, embedding itself into the stone wall, the blade trembling with a metallic hum.
She clutched her head, nails digging into her scalp, blood trickling down from her temple.
The illusions did not vanish.
They were getting closer.
Those women’s hands roamed over Shen Mo’s body, his clothes peeled away inch by inch, the light in his eyes dimming inch by inch.
Chao’er’s reason was crumbling.
She heard her own heartbeat, fast enough to burst.
She heard her own voice, shouting “Stop!”, shouting “Get away!”, shouting “He’s mine!”—
Then, she heard another voice.
It came from the depths of the Devil’s Den.
Low, languid, laced with amusement.
“How pitiful.”
The voice said.
“You want him so desperately, yet can only watch helplessly.”
“You want him more than anyone, yet lack even the courage to say it out loud.”
The scene changed again. This time, it was by the Cold Pool. Lin Jingzhe had Shen Mo pinned against a rock, her red robes like fire, her smile wild and malicious.
She tore open Shen Mo’s collar, her fingertips traced over the bite mark, and she leaned in to whisper something. Shen Mo turned his face away, the corners of his eyes red.
The illusions flashed by frame by frame: Lady Yunhe’s bewitching smile as she lit the Aphrodisiac Incense, Su Wan’er’s gentle yet distant touch before her seclusion, and even… herself.
Sneaking into the bedchamber late at night, stealing a kiss on Shen Mo’s forehead, her own face twisted with an obsessive, crazed expression.
“No… that’s not true…” Chao’er covered her ears, but the images drilled directly into her mind.
The final illusion froze on an unfamiliar bamboo hut.
Qin Shuying was embracing Shen Mo from behind, her chin resting on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his waist.
Shen Mo did not struggle. He merely lowered his eyes, allowing her aura to envelop him completely.
Then Qin Shuying tilted her head, kissed the side of his neck, and whispered something. Shen Mo’s eyelashes trembled, and he nodded, ever so lightly.
It was not a posture of resistance.
It was acquiescence.
It was weary compromise. It was the instinctive reliance of someone who, after seven years of lonely solitude, finally had someone reach out a hand.
“Master’s Husband…” Chao’er heard her own voice trembling, “Why… didn’t you push her away?”
Why didn’t you give them a cold stare? Why didn’t you resist with your life? Why… did you show that kind of fragile expression, as if you’d finally found a home?
A voice in the darkness gently answered her:
“Because he’s tired.”
Chao’er jerked her head up.
The Demonic Qi slowly coalesced before her, but it did not form a ferocious monster. Instead, it gradually revealed an—outline.
A woman.
A woman so breathtakingly beautiful it was suffocating.
Her long hair cascaded like a waterfall, her features were like a painting, and a faint, elusive smile played on her lips.
Her beauty was so ethereal it bordered on the demonic, making it impossible to look away after just one glance.
Only her form was slightly translucent, like a wisp of mist.
But her eyes shone with an unsettling intensity.
“Seven years of guarding an empty home, everyone praises his virtue, yet no one asks what he wants.”
The voice was as gentle as coaxing a child, yet each word stabbed into Chao’er’s heart, “His wife in seclusion, his disciple young, outsiders bullying him… Your Master’s Husband, he’s long been worn down by this world until only a shell remains.”
“You’re lying!” Chao’er roared, “Master’s Husband, he—!”
“He’s strong?” The woman laughed, her laughter tinged with pity, “Yes, he is strong. Strong enough to smile gently at you after being violated by Yunhe, strong enough to say ‘I’m fine’ after being marked by Qin Shuying. But Chao’er, is what you see really him?”
The scene by the pool changed again.
This time, it was Shen Mo alone. He sat in the darkness of his bedchamber, no lamps lit, just hugging his knees, his face buried in his arms.
His shoulders shook, but there was no sound.
It was a Shen Mo Chao’er had never seen before.
“See, this is him.” The woman’s voice drew close, as if right by Chao’er’s ear, “He’s been waiting for someone, waiting for someone who can see through his perfect mask, who can catch all his fragility. Su Wan’er didn’t, Qin Shuying didn’t, Lin Jingzhe even less so—what they want is either his virtue, or his handsome face and his Furnace Body constitution.”
“Only you, little Chao’er.”
Chao’er’s breath hitched.
The woman’s hand, illusory, stroked Chao’er’s hair.
The touch was icy, yet brought a strange sense of comfort, “Only you know why he can’t sleep every late night, know the emptiness behind every gentle smile of his. You are the one who understands him best in this world, aren’t you?”
“I…” Chao’er’s lips trembled.
“But what use is understanding?” The voice suddenly turned cold, “You’re too weak. Too weak to do anything but watch Yunhe humiliate him, not even daring to enter the room. Too weak to be hunted down in the Secret Realm, lying here in the Demon Abyss waiting to die like a dog. Too weak—even if you go back now, you can’t compete with anyone around him.”
“Su Wan’er is his lawfully wedded Matriarch, Qin Shuying is a peak Nascent Soul sword cultivator, Lin Jingzhe is the First Disciple Su Wan’er values most, even that Yunhe is a Peak Master. And you? What are you? A little Foundation Establishment disciple, a waste who’s only lived this long by relying on the Peak Master’s protection.”
“I’m not a waste!” Chao’er shrieked, tears mingling with blood streaming down her face.
“Then prove it to me.” The woman’s voice was seductive to the extreme, “Accept my power, become the master of this Demon Abyss. Then go back, and tear to pieces every single one of those who have touched him.”
The final image froze on Shen Mo’s face.
It was from before Chao’er entered the Secret Realm. He saw her off at the Mountain Gate, gently straightening her collar for her, saying softly, “Chao’er, come back safely.”
Back then, there was light in his eyes, reluctance, genuine worry.
But now, in the illusion, his eyes were as empty as stagnant water.
“He’s about to break.” The woman sighed, “The day he shatters completely, he can never be put back together. By then, even if you offer him the whole world, he’ll just give you a gentle smile and say: Chao’er, I’m fine.”
Chao’er’s nails dug into her palms, blood dripping from between her fingers into the dark red pool.
“What do you want?” she asked hoarsely.
“Your love, your hatred, your jealousy, your possessiveness—all those fervent, filthy, unspeakable emotions are the best nourishment for the Demon Abyss, and your body. Give them to me, and I will give you power. Power enough to protect him.”
Chao’er looked at Shen Mo’s face.
She remembered his gentleness as he taught her how to draw talismans hand in hand, remembered his thin back shielding her when she was bullied by fellow disciples, remembered every thunderstorm night when he would quietly come to check outside her room, thinking she didn’t know.
She also remembered that night with Yunhe, his suppressed groans and tears.
She remembered the trembling of his fingertips when Qin Shuying gripped his wrist.
She remembered his submissive act of closing his eyes and turning his head when Lin Jingzhe tore his collar.
“They don’t deserve him.” Chao’er heard herself say, her voice cold and unfamiliar.
“Right, they don’t deserve him.” The woman echoed.
That’s right!
Master’s Husband… is hers!
She met him first! She’s been with him the longest! Her Honored Teacher went into seclusion and ignored him, those women bullied him, only she, Chao’er, truly cared for him, truly wanted to protect him!
How could he… how could he allow others to touch him!
That Qin Shuying! What right does she have!
How dare she so easily, so roughly, possess the treasure she had guarded for so long, not daring to even touch?
Anyone who wants to taint him, anyone who wants to take him away, deserves to die! Deserves to die!
Violent emotions tore at her battered body and soul. The Demonic Qi seized the opportunity, accelerating its corrosion.