Chapter 48: The Art of Acting

Now, hiding inside the flowerbed, Ivy’s body trembled slightly as she gasped for air in large, uneven breaths.

She didn’t notice the change in the environment, nor did she realize the entire manor was shrouded in a mist of blood.

Her line of sight was completely blocked by the surrounding flowers and grass.

She heard Flossie’s angry voice, the sound of her searching for her everywhere.

She caught the sounds of shattering—ping, pang, pang—like something breaking.

She heard Flossie moving toward the castle, but Ivy dared not look to see what she was doing.

Any movement on her part would reveal her position.

Gradually, Ivy seemed to hear Flossie calm down; her footsteps slowly receded.

Until the footsteps finally disappeared altogether.

Yet Ivy still didn’t dare to come out, knowing full well that such silence usually meant Flossie was lying in wait.

She wasn’t in any rush.

Ivy felt her eyelids grow heavy but refused to faint.

To keep herself awake, she kept touching her wounds.

The sharp pain stimulated her already exhausted nerves, preventing her from losing consciousness.

Sure enough, after about ten minutes, Flossie’s voice sounded again from outside—she hadn’t left!

Ivy silently thanked herself for guessing right—that Flossie would be lurking nearby.

Flossie seemed to be wreaking havoc again; Ivy even heard the sound of fences being violently destroyed.

The stones crashed loudly to the ground.

Several knights passed by, only to be brutally killed by the maddened Flossie.

But Ivy was powerless to do anything; she could barely protect herself now.

Her useless saintly compassion had long been abandoned.

Slowly, Flossie’s footsteps retreated once more.

Ivy stayed hidden in the flowerbed for a long time—maybe several tens of minutes, maybe an hour or two.

Her consciousness began to blur, but she held on.

Only after confirming no sound came from outside did she stagger out from the flowerbed.

Her body bore many wounds caused by the thorns and stems of the flowers.

Ivy was dazed, but she had to leave quickly.

If she didn’t get away in time, Flossie would surely find her again—and then she would die!

She thought this to herself with a racing heart.

But at that moment, Ivy heard a voice like a nightmare.

“Found——you——oh——”

“Wh…?”

Ivy barely managed the word before feeling her hair being grabbed by a great force, then dragged out from the flowerbed.

She was thrown heavily onto the ground.

Flossie kicked Ivy’s abdomen frantically, causing blood to spill from her mouth.

Ivy tried desperately to fend off Flossie’s attacks, but it was useless.

She saw Flossie’s crazed smile and bloodshot eyes.

In her memory, Flossie’s eyes were mostly calm, only occasionally revealing violence or murderous intent.

Flossie rarely showed any expression—sometimes a faint smile, sometimes a cold sneer.

But this Flossie, like a madwoman, was unlike anything Ivy had ever seen.

Ivy twisted the corners of her mouth and smiled.

Even though her body was wracked with pain, she still smiled.

“Flo… Flossie…”

“You’re… cough cough…”

“Just… this much…”

“A monster even I could take down, and you fell…”

“Ha… hahaha… this is truly… hilarious…”

“Weren’t you supposed to be arrogant and aloof…?”

“You really are… useless…”

Ivy knew she probably couldn’t escape.

Normally, Flossie might have spared her to torment her more, or for some other reason.

But this completely changed, deranged Flossie wouldn’t think that way.

She only wanted to torture Ivy, to see her suffer.

Sure enough, this maddened Flossie stopped kicking when she heard Ivy’s taunts.

Ivy’s arms fell limply to the ground; blood still dripped from her mouth.

The next moment, Ivy screamed in pain, rolling desperately on the ground as she struggled to pull her hands free.

But the corrupted Flossie gave her no chance.

Ivy felt her wrist nearly broken under Flossie’s foot.

Worst of all—

The hole pierced through her palm had shifted from agonizing pain to numbness.

Sweat poured down Ivy’s forehead; tears flowed uncontrollably.

The only hand she could move clutched tightly at Flossie’s leg.

When she found no reaction, she bit down hard on her.

Perhaps the pain she inflicted was too much; Flossie recoiled and kicked Ivy away again.

Ivy covered her hand and rolled on the ground.

For the first time, she realized how terrible it was to have such a strong life force.

If only her vitality were a little weaker, she might already be dead.

Staring at her pierced palm, Ivy suddenly noticed the wound was slowly healing!

What was going on?

She recalled the original owner’s talent—The Hero.

As long as she didn’t give up, there was still hope.

That was the description of the Hero talent.

Simply put, the stronger the will, the greater the recovery ability.

This was the very reason the original owner had grown rapidly in two years, reaching a strength capable of slaying princes—the incredible, almost divine healing power.

But now… she wished that strange healing ability would stop!

If she was going to die, she wanted it to be quick and painless.

This slow healing just made her into a moving punching bag.

Though she thought this, the survival instinct carved deep into her bones, that intense will to live, seemed to trigger the Hero talent.

Her body began to recover slowly, almost like a minor healing spell.

But at this moment, it offered no help.

She still couldn’t get up.

Her situation was no different than before.

If anything, she could take even more punishment.

She saw Flossie slowly approach, stepping heavily on her chest.

The sound of her broken ribs cracking filled the air.

Ivy felt her heart quake violently, as if her organs were about to be shattered.

Then Flossie crouched down.

In her hand appeared a bloodstained dagger.

The blade traced patterns on Ivy’s chest.

Then, slowly, it pierced in.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!”

Ivy screamed in agony; the terror in her eyes was impossible to hide.

She begged loudly, trying to make Flossie spare her.

But Flossie only grew more excited at this display.

Watching Ivy’s feeble struggles brought her immense pleasure.

She didn’t restrain Ivy—nowadays, Flossie saw her as nothing but a lamb awaiting slaughter, a lamb who had lost all courage.

Flossie laughed happily, pushing the dagger deeper.

Ivy grabbed the blade, trying to stop Flossie from stabbing further.

But it only caused her hand to be drenched in fresh blood.

As the corrupted Flossie sunk deeper into the pleasure of destruction—

Ivy’s pained expression, her terrified gaze, suddenly sharpened.

Her bloodied palm suddenly pressed hard against Flossie’s lips!