This Is What You Get

The following day was an ordeal for Wu Lingxiao, one that was longer and more terrifying than the eighteen levels of hell.

Because Ye Xuan did not, as she had imagined, drag Ying'er straight away to commit illicit acts.

Instead, he went straight for the heart, destroying her from the inside out.

He changed back into a slightly worn white palace outfit. It was the very same attire he loved to wear when he first entered the palace, the clothes that symbolized the flawless purity of Consort Xuan.

Taking the pretty maidservant named Ying'er with him, he began to wander and play in every corner of the Weiyang Palace.

On a sunny afternoon, on the lawn of the imperial garden.

Ye Xuan had somehow procured some strange metals and wood. Using his spiritual power, he actually pieced together a bizarre mechanical contraption that buzzed as it flew through the air.

He called it a remote-controlled airplane.

Holding a wooden control panel in his hand, he ran across the grass like a playful child. The sunlight spilled over his pure, flawless profile, his white palace robes fluttering in the wind.

This scene was simply too beautiful.

So beautiful that Wu Lingxiao, hiding behind a nearby rockery, could not stop her tears from flowing.

That was her Consort Xuan. The Consort Xuan who once would only reveal such a radiant smile for her.

"Wow! Master! This 'science' you speak of is amazing! It can actually fly this high without using spirit stones!" Ying'er clapped her hands excitedly, skipping and jumping around Ye Xuan like a cheerful lark.

Ye Xuan stopped in his tracks, turned his head, and looked at Ying'er, his eyes full of doting and gentle amusement. "If I hadn't been reincarnated into this cultivation world, your master would have long become a great existence like Newton."

"Who is Newton? Is he even more powerful than a Half-Step True Immortal?" Ying'er tilted her head and asked with charming naivety.

Ye Xuan laughed heartily, reaching out to affectionately tap Ying'er's nose. "He is much more powerful than a True Immortal. He is in charge of universal gravitation."

The two chatted and laughed happily, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the grass. Ying'er even naturally rested her head on Ye Xuan's shoulder, and Ye Xuan didn't push her away; instead, he gently smoothed her wind-tousled hair.

Behind the rockery, Wu Lingxiao clawed desperately at the hard stone. Her fingernails all snapped off, leaving her ten fingers dripping with blood and marking the stone with shocking, bloody streaks.

She was going crazy.

Completely insane.

If it were the previous Ye Xuan, full of wicked energy and constantly beating or scolding her, favoring another woman, she might have been able to forcefully endure it by relying on her cultivation base.

But the person standing there now was Ye Xuan, wearing the clothes of Consort Xuan, showing the smile of Consort Xuan, and gentle to the very bone!

He was displaying the gentleness, patience, innocence, and love that once belonged solely to her, Wu Lingxiao, completely and without reservation to another lowly maidservant!

Every laugh they shared, every doting look, every inch of accidental physical contact was like a blunt knife, slowly and repeatedly slicing and tearing at Wu Lingxiao's heart.

"He is mine... He is mine..."

She bit her fist hard to stop herself from letting out a desperate whimper. Sickly jealousy burned her internal organs like a poisonous fire.

Countless times, she wanted to rush out, slap that wretched maid Ying'er to death, and then lock Ye Xuan deep within the Weiyang Palace, binding his limbs with dark iron chains so that he could only ever look at her forever.

But she couldn't.

"As long as I endure through this month... he will be mine..."

She could only hypnotize herself like this over and over again, letting blood and tears wash over her.

And this was only the first day.

Nightfall finally descended like a heavy black cloth, enveloping the entire imperial city.

According to their agreement, Wu Lingxiao had to come and eavesdrop.

Ye Xuan and Ying'er entered the bedchamber of the side palace.

This bedchamber had been enveloped in a very special barrier set up by Zi Yao.

This barrier not only blocked the prying of divine sense but also completely shielded all visual scenes inside.

The only thing that could be transmitted outward was sound. Sound that was amplified by the formation and made extremely clear.

Wu Lingxiao, like a death row inmate about to be sent to the guillotine, walked with great difficulty to the steps outside the bedchamber.

She didn't sit on a chair, but instead, like a wandering ghost that had lost its soul, slowly slid down onto the cold jade steps, slumping dejectedly against the doorframe.

The moonlight, like water, spilled over her face that was as pale as paper. The empress who once ruled the world was now a hundred times more miserable than the most destitute beggar on the streets.

The barrier flickered slightly.

The next moment, in the dead silence of the night sky, an incredibly clear voice echoed out from within the barrier.

It was not the sound of the wind, nor the cry of a night bird.

But rather... sounds that would make one blush, yet made Wu Lingxiao feel as if she were plunging into the infinite abyss of hell.

"Mnn... Brother... slow down..."

That was Ying'er's voice. Low, coquettish, carrying an undisguised sense of pleasure, indulgence, and teasing.

Immediately after.

It was the voice that Wu Lingxiao knew down to her bones, etched deep into her soul.

The voice of the man who had once lingered intimately with her on this very bed, swearing in her ear countless times that they would be one couple for a whole lifetime.

"Why call me brother? Call me husband!"

Ye Xuan's voice revealed a long-lost dominance and unbridled delight.

"Husband... you are so beautiful, I love your eyes so much..." Ying'er panted softly, her voice filled with infatuation.

Wu Lingxiao sat on the steps, like a stone statue drained of all vitality.

The night wind blew through her messy long hair, covering her hollow eyes, but it could not hide her violently trembling shoulders.

The sounds inside the barrier continued. Every pant, every exchanged word, was like the blade of a slow slicing execution, paring away her soul piece by piece.

"Husband, Ying'er has something she doesn't understand."

"Speak."

"Do you really like me, or do you like that empress?"

Wu Lingxiao's breathing completely stopped at this moment.

She stared fixedly at the carved mahogany door that blocked everything before her. Her heart felt as if it had been violently seized by a hand and suspended in mid-air, awaiting the final judgment.

After a brief, suffocating silence.

From within the barrier, Ye Xuan's laughter rang out, carrying three parts intoxication and seven parts wantonness:

"Haha... why mention her?"

"She is nothing but a tyrant. Selfish, greedy, and utterly barbaric in bed. She is truly incredibly boring."

"How could she compare to you, who is as gentle as water?"

"Although there is a difference in our cultivation levels... as expected, you bring me much more joy."

"This is the enjoyment a man should have..."

Accompanied by the even more intense, unbridled sound of the bed shaking, Wu Lingxiao's eyes suddenly widened.

"Pfft!"

A mouthful of thick heart-blood sprayed wildly from her mouth, splashing onto the pristine white jade steps, a shocking sight to behold.

Two streams of crimson tears of blood slowly slid down from the eye sockets of this Half-Step True Immortal.

Her vision was blurred by the blood. In the midst of extreme agony and despair, a scene suddenly flashed through her mind.

Eight hundred years ago.

Outside the Elysium Heaven.

It was also a dead-silent night like this, and also sounds just like this.

That young man, whom she had personally blocked outside with a barrier, holding that conch-shaped magical artifact, listening to the wanton laughter and conversation between her and Holy Son Yeyou coming from within.

"She found you weak and boring."

"How is she anything like you? You and I are both at the Tribulation Transcendence realm... Indeed, you are the one who brings me more pleasure..."

Wu Lingxiao shuddered violently. As if struck by lightning, she clutched her chest tightly and let out an inhuman, utterly suppressed wail of grief.

"Ah... Ah... Ah!"

She finally understood.

She finally understood why Ye Xuan didn't use magic to directly torture her physical body, why he didn't just kill her with a single sword strike.

This was a perfect, meticulously calculated karmic retribution!

Back then, when Consort Xuan stood at the edge of the cliff, listening to her belittle his cultivation, listening to her praise the pleasure other men brought her, watching his deep affections being trampled like trash...

Did he also feel this soul-piercing agony, just as she did now? Did he also feel so much despair that he wanted to die right then and there?

In fact, his pain back then must have been a hundred times more profound than hers was now! Because the Consort Xuan of the past had truly, unconditionally, and deeply loved her!

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

Wu Lingxiao collapsed into a pool of blood, grabbing her own hair so tightly and pulling with such force that she tore off large patches of her scalp.

She wept until her heart broke. All her pride, all her madness, all her sick possessiveness were completely submerged in this moment by an overwhelming wave of self-blame and guilt.

She once thought that as long as she was willing to pay the price, as long as she laid down her dignity as the Empress, she could make up for her mistakes.

But now she finally realized that there were some scars that could never be erased, not by reversing time, not by reconstructing the flesh, not even by having one's soul scattered.

"Retribution... This is retribution..."

The Empress of Great Xia knelt prostrate on the cold steps. Her hands clutched her chest in a death grip, her nails digging deep into her own flesh and blood as she wept in agonizing despair.

She finally, truly felt the despair he had experienced back then.

And this hellish torment would last for another twenty-nine full days.