At this moment, Shen Mo’s face unexpectedly surfaced in her mind.
She thought of the cloud-pattern robe she had bought, as fluid as water—if it were worn on him…
This association made her frown almost imperceptibly.
“Obstinate and unrepentant.”
She said no more, formed a sword seal with her fingers, and pointed into the air.
A highly condensed icy sword qi shot forth, not aimed at the man, but precisely at the strange sachet.
“Pop!”
With a soft sound, the sachet burst, scattering pale pink powder, but before it could spread, it was frozen by the extreme cold within the sword qi, turning into countless fine ice crystals that fell to the ground.
With the source of the charm destroyed, the cloying sweetness in the air immediately cleared.
The man, as if struck hard, cried out and collapsed to the ground, his face drained of blood.
Clearly, the charm was bound to his life, and its destruction caused backlash.
He looked up at Su Wan’er, shock and horror in his eyes.
He had been ordered by an unspeakable figure to wait here and use all his skills. He couldn’t even make this Bright Moon Peak Lord waver for a moment?
After destroying the sachet, the agitation in Su Wan’er’s heart also settled.
Just as she was about to leave, the man bit the tip of his tongue and spat a mouthful of essence blood mixed with broken lifebound charm essence onto the ground in front of him.
There, hidden beneath the soil, a miniature formation had been drawn using his own essence blood as a guide, previously cleverly concealed by the tanhua flowers and his figure.
Where the essence blood landed, the formation’s light flickered once and vanished.
The cloying, unusual fragrance did not dissipate with the wind but, like a living thing, followed Su Wan’er’s breath into her seven orifices.
Alarm bells rang in her heart. She immediately held her breath and circulated her spiritual power to expel it.
Yet the fragrance seemed to have a life of its own; the moment it touched her, it dissolved into her spiritual power.
Instead of being expelled, it flowed up through her meridians in reverse, straight into her sea of consciousness!
It transformed into countless warm currents, sweeping through her limbs and bones.
An indescribable heat and tingling sensation suddenly rose from her lower abdomen and rapidly spread throughout her body.
The man before her, the surrounding trees, the rough mountain rocks—all became veiled in an ambiguous soft light.
The drug’s power had fully erupted.
She leaned on her sword, kneeling on one knee, her whole body burning hot, her cheeks flushed, her breathing rapid beyond control.
The scene before her began to sway and overlap. The empty, burning sensation inside her was like a million ants gnawing.
It assaulted the Dao heart she had cultivated for years.
The cold spiritual power she circulated not only failed to suppress it but instead fueled the fire, making the emotional tide even more violent.
She cut her palm, trying to maintain clarity through pain, but it was of little use.
Uncontrollably, fragmented images flashed through her mind.
The wedding night. Red candles flickering. Dragon and phoenix red curtains. A mist of fragrance.
She lifted the bridal veil.
“Mo’er…” Su Wan’er murmured unconsciously, her eyes glazed.
The man before her—his delicate features, his slightly pursed lips, his expression of fragility and helplessness—somehow gradually overlapped and merged with the appearance of Shen Mo on that wedding night in her memory.
Was it him?
Was it her Mo’er, come to take her back?
The defenses in her heart swayed precariously.
The conjugal love buried deep in her heart, never truly released due to years of separation, now surged forth violently.
The man was overjoyed, seeing she had mistaken him for someone else. He took a half-step forward, his voice growing softer, laced with coaxing.
“Fairy? Fairy, what’s wrong with you?”
His movements grew bolder as he reached out as if to support her.
Su Wan’er instinctively wanted to avoid, but her body was too weak.
“Mo’er… I miss you so much…” Broken, tearful words escaped her lips. Her last resistance was rapidly dissolving.
…
Shen Mo didn’t know how he got back to Jiaoyue Peak.
Yun He’s escape light was too fast; before he could even see the mountains and rivers below, he was already inside his own room.
The brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were arranged neatly.
Everything was as before.
But Shen Mo knew nothing was the same.
The long-awaited return brought no joy at all.
Now all he wanted was to go down the mountain.
Yet he saw a light curtain rising from the entrance of the hall.
Like an overturned bowl, it covered the entire room.
Yun He stood outside the light curtain, looking at him through the faint layer of light.
Her gaze was deep and complicated.
“Wait well. She’ll be back soon.”
He rushed to the edge of the light curtain, reaching out to slap it. His hand couldn’t penetrate, and his voice couldn’t get through either.
He could only watch as Yun He turned and dissipated like mist.
He refused to give up.
Still, he flung himself at the hall door, only to be gently repelled by an invisible force.
This repeated.
Hundreds, thousands of times.
Shen Mo slumped to his knees before the door, his fingernails digging deep into the gaps between the cold floor tiles.
His heart was like dead ashes, yet scorched with anxiety.
Time had never passed so slowly. Every breath felt as long as a century.
He pricked up his ears, catching the slightest sound from outside.
His mind uncontrollably flashed with countless terrible images—Wan’er meeting that stranger, the drug taking effect, losing her mind…
No!
Don’t think!
He bit his lower lip hard until he tasted the thick metallic tang of blood.
The moonlight gradually shifted, moving from one side of the window lattice to the other. The darkness in the hall deepened.
Over and over in his heart, he chanted: Don’t take that path, don’t meet that person, don’t…
He didn’t know who to beg.
Beg the heavens?
Beg fate?
Or beg the wife who was somewhere outside the mountain gate at this moment?
Time passed, moment by moment.
The night wind rustled through the bamboo grove, adding to the desolation.
Half an hour later, the sky began to lighten.
One hour later, the rooster crowed.
An hour and a half… full daylight.
Sunlight shone on the light curtain, refracting into rainbow colors, beautiful and unreal.
But Shen Mo only felt cold—a cold seeping out from his very bones.
Outside, there was still utter silence.
He was tormented to the point of complete breakdown by this silent wait.
Finally, there was movement.
Not soft footsteps, but heavy, stumbling, dragging sounds.
Accompanied by suppressed, hoarse, inhuman breathing.
And… the dripping, skin-crawling sound of liquid falling.
Shen Mo jerked his head up, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the direction of the hall entrance.
The light curtain vanished.
The hall door was slammed open from outside by a rough force!
No, not slammed—it was more like something heavily and weakly leaned against it.
In the hazy light of approaching dawn, a violently trembling figure leaned against the doorframe.
It was Su Wan’er.
But this was definitely not the Su Wan’er Shen Mo had imagined—the one who would emerge from seclusion, cold and ethereal, with gentle apology.
She still wore that plain white Dao robe, now stained and mottled with blood.
Especially the chest and sleeves, large patches were soaked.
One hand hung limply at her side, viscous liquid dripping from her fingertips.
And in her other hand… she was actually holding a bloody head—wide-eyed, with lingering shock and disbelief—the head of a young, handsome man!