“Open your mouth.”
Those two words, cold and flat, were like the strictest command.
Shen Mo suddenly remembered the last time.
He trembled violently, shook his head, and clenched his teeth.
‘No, I can’t…’
‘There are many methods my wife hasn’t tried yet. How could they all be developed by an outsider…’
Qin Shuying’s fingertips tightened like iron tongs, locking onto his jaw, forcing his head up without question.
After a while…
Watching his body’s uncontrollable spasms and the continuous retching from his throat.
A strange and twisted satisfaction, mixed with a sadistic pleasure, quietly soothed the burning jealousy fire in her heart.
‘That’s right, just like this.’
‘Use her traces to cover up what that wicked disciple left behind.’
‘Use this ultimate humiliation to make him remember who is the only person, now and in the future, who can do this to him.’
Shen Mo gasped for air, a silver thread still hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Qin Shuying’s expression was satisfied.
But if she continued, it would be cutting flesh to feed a wolf.
He was truly weak in body and couldn’t withstand the torment.
“Shuying.”
Shen Mo took a deep breath.
“That day… that day outside the valley, about you being trapped by the corpse puppets, I want to ask.”
Qin Shuying’s eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“Now you ask about this?”
“Mm.”
Shen Mo lowered his head, a faint fragrance wafting over.
“Those three corpse puppets… very strong, right?”
Qin Shuying was silent for a moment.
She sat up straight again, her right leg elegantly crossed over her left knee.
Her foot lifted for a moment, then stepped on his thigh.
The sole of her foot applied a slight force, not crushing, but a tighter fitting and control.
Lust fire was temporarily suppressed, but the jealousy still burned, making her heart ache.
Looking at his clumsy attempt to change the topic—
She suddenly wanted to laugh.
“Those three corpse puppets,” she began, “their corpse qi extremely condensed, their movements quite methodical, indeed very strong.”
Shen Mo looked at her, waiting.
“Nascent Soul peak, immortal body.” Qin Shuying said. “Even if chopped to pieces, it can regenerate.”
Shen Mo remembered that day in the valley, seeing those black qi surging scenes.
“Then how did you escape?”
Qin Shuying’s gaze darkened.
“They retreated on their own.”
Shen Mo was stunned.
“Retreated on their own?”
“Mm.”
Qin Shuying’s brows furrowed slightly.
“Halfway through the fight, it was as if they received some command, and they all withdrew together.”
Something flashed in Shen Mo’s mind.
‘A command?’
‘Whose command?’
“I investigated later.”
Qin Shuying continued, her voice turning cold.
“They had special rune patterns on them… not like ordinary corpse refining methods… seemed like some forbidden technique…”
During close-quarters combat, on the chest area of one of the more intact corpse puppets, she discovered a deliberately damaged dark red rune seal remnant, the outline still somewhat recognizable.
The lines of that rune seal… she felt they looked familiar.
It seemed she had glimpsed a similar pattern in the fragment of an extremely ancient book about forbidden puppet arts.
She secretly investigated, using channels from Heavenly Sword Peak and even her own private connections, spending no small amount of mental effort.
That rune pattern was ancient and sinister, yet it carried a neatness belonging to the artifact refining and talisman system of righteous sects, definitely not the work of ordinary demon path followers or loose cultivators.
“The core restriction of the rune pattern is seventy percent similar to Chaoyun Peak’s secret ‘Nine Nether Corpse Suppression Talisman.'”
“And that unique spiritual power imprint, mixing morning dew vitality and deathly stillness and decay… only someone who has cultivated the ‘Morning Glory Evening Death Art’ to great depths and been in contact with yin filthy death qi for years could leave it. Within Yun Yin Sect, those who meet both conditions are few and far between.”
She didn’t say it explicitly, but the implication was extremely clear—Yun Fuling.
Or rather, someone who could command Yun Fuling, or someone of the same origin and flow.
Shen Mo’s breath seemed to catch, his lowered head lifted slightly, almost imperceptibly, revealing the pale lower half of his face through the gaps in his disheveled hair.
“I investigated half of it,” Qin Shuying’s voice turned cold, “and was stopped by Yun He.”
Shen Mo was stunned.
“Stopped?”
“Mm.”
On Qin Shuying’s ice-sealed face, a faint, almost self-mocking coldness flickered.
“She personally sent a message, ordering me to stop the investigation immediately. She said this matter involves too much, afraid of alerting the enemy and damaging the sect’s reputation, and it should be secretly handled by the Discipline Hall.”