He Is Afraid of Me

However, Ye Xuan was not tortured into submission.

Quite the opposite.

Every cleansing only made him hate more.

He began to escalate.

When Bai Qiangu cut off his right hand, he used his left hand to touch other women once it healed.

When Bai Qiangu burned his lips, he whistled at passing female cultivators right in front of her once they healed.

When Bai Qiangu stabbed out his eyes, he closed his eyes once they healed and relied on scent to seek out other women.

It wasn't that he was truly lecherous.

He didn't even really want those women.

He just wanted to make Bai Qiangu suffer.

He had discovered her weakness: she could endure the betrayal of the entire world, but she could not endure him touching other women. It was her only, fatal flaw.

So he struck at that flaw relentlessly, again and again, without regard for the cost.

Even if every cost was the pain of severed limbs and the agony of scorched soul.

He no longer cared.

Pain had become his daily routine, as natural as breathing.

He even began to savor that pain, because every time he screamed, he could see a fleeting flash of heartache and despair in Bai Qiangu's eyes.

That was his only weapon.

Using his own flesh and blood to pierce her heart.

Bai Qiangu cut off Ye Xuan's left ear.

Because he had pressed that ear against a female cultivator's chest to listen to her heartbeat.

"You say you were listening to her heartbeat?" Bai Qiangu's voice was as calm as still water, the Duanhun Blade in her hand gleaming with a cold light in the candlelight. "Then I'll cut off this ear, so from now on, you can only hear my heartbeat."

Ye Xuan gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, but he forced himself not to scream.

He had learned not to scream.

Because he discovered that the more he screamed, the more excited Bai Qiangu became.

This morbid excitement made her eyes glow and her breath quicken, making her look like a child who had received a beloved toy.

So he stopped screaming.

He used silence to resist her.

This was more effective than any curse.

Sure enough, when Bai Qiangu cut off his ear and didn't hear the expected scream, her movements paused.

She looked down at the ear still warm in her hand, then at Ye Xun's clenched jaw and the dense beads of sweat on his forehead.

"You're not screaming?"

Ye Xuan did not answer.

"Scream." Bai Qiangu's voice suddenly became urgent, with a pleading tone. "Scream. Curse me, at least. Say something."

Ye Xuan remained silent.

He closed his eyes and turned his head away.

The ear fell from Bai Qiangu's hand to the ground.

She stood there, as if all her strength had been drained away.

The secret chamber was eerily quiet, save for the occasional crackle of candle flames.

A long time passed.

Bai Qiangu crouched down, picked up the ear, and carefully placed it into a jade box.

Then she took out a Regeneration Pill, silently fed it to Ye Xuan, silently channeled demonic energy into him, and silently watched as a new ear grew back.

Throughout the entire process, she did not speak a single word.

When she was done, she turned and walked out of the secret room.

The moment the heavy door closed, Ye Xuan heard an extremely suppressed sound—like the whimper of a wounded beast.

Very brief.

So brief that he almost thought it was an illusion.

After the forty-second full-body cleansing,

Bai Qiangu suddenly stopped.

Without any warning, without any explanation.

She just abruptly stopped torturing Ye Xuan.

That morning, when Ye Xuan woke up, he found Bai Qiangu sitting by the bed, holding a steaming bowl of congee.

It wasn't spirit rice congee, nor was it a tonic laced with magical herbs.

It was just ordinary congee, made from common japonica rice of the mortal world.

"You must be hungry?" Bai Qiangu's voice was very soft, as if afraid to disturb something. "I made congee. Try some."

Ye Xuan regarded her warily, his body instinctively shrinking back.

Bai Qiangu saw his retreat.

Her eyes dimmed for a moment, but quickly regained that cautious tenderness.

"It's not drugged," she said. "If you don't believe me, I'll drink first."

She really took a spoonful of congee, put it in her mouth, and swallowed slowly.

"See? It's fine."

Ye Xuan stared at her for a long time.

Finally, he took the bowl.

Not because he trusted her, but because he was truly hungry. After forty-two consecutive cleanings, although his body had been continuously regenerated by spiritual pills, there was a bone-deep weakness that such pills could not remedy.

He lowered his head and drank the congee.

The congee was very hot, but it tasted good. The rice grains had been boiled until soft and mushy, melting on the tongue with a faint, fragrant rice aroma.

Bai Qiangu sat beside him, watching him drink, her gaze as tender as if she had never been the female demon who cut off people's fingers.

"Drink slowly, don't burn yourself."

Ye Xuan's hand paused.

Those words reminded him of a time long, long ago.

In that valley, he had also been feeding an injured "Big Sister" spoonfuls of dew.

"Drink slowly, don't choke."

That was what he had said to her then.

For a moment, Ye Xuan's eyes stung with emotion. But the bitterness was quickly drowned by a deeper hatred.

He lowered his head and continued drinking the congee, not letting Bai Qiangu see his expression.

From that day on, Bai Qiangu seemed to have changed into a different person.

She no longer tortured Ye Xuan. She no longer cut off his fingers, burned his lips, or stabbed out his eyes.

She began to care for him like a normal wife.

Every morning, she would personally prepare breakfast for him. Not rare delicacies, but the homely dishes Ye Xuan had eaten as a child in the mortal world—steamed egg, stir-fried vegetables, millet congee.

She didn't know how to cook. The supreme master of the demonic path had never even touched a stove. But she forced herself to learn.

She burned countless pots, blew up the kitchen many times, and even once nearly set an entire side hall ablaze.

But she didn't give up.

She gritted her teeth and practiced over and over. When her fingers were blistered by burns, she would use spiritual energy to speed up the healing and continue stir-frying. When the millet congee burned, she would pour it out and start over. When the vegetables were overcooked, she would wash a fresh batch.

The demon cultivators who served her watched in astonishment as their sect master, the female demon who could make mountains and rivers overturn with a single rage, tied a grease-stained apron around her waist, crouched in front of the stove, and frowned worriedly at a pot of smoking millet congee.

"Sect Master, let this subordinate do it..."

"Get lost."

Bai Qiangu spat out a single word without turning around, releasing a burst of demonic energy that sent the meddling demon cultivator flying far away.

"He can only eat what I make," she muttered to herself, scraping the scorched bottom of the pot clean, refilling it with water and rice. "What others make isn't clean."

In this way, after about half a month, Bai Qiangu was finally able to produce a table of barely edible meals.

When she entered the secret room carrying a tray, her face bore a kind of cautious anticipation that she herself didn't even notice.

This expression was exactly like a young girl bringing her first meal to the one she loved.

But when she saw the look in Ye Xuan's eyes, that anticipation vanished.

Fear.

Bone-deep fear.

When Ye Xuan saw her walk in carrying the tray, he instinctively shrank back into the corner of the bed, wrapping his arms around his knees and curling his body into a tight ball.

His eyes were fixed on Bai Qiangu's hands; what he saw in his pupils was not a woman carrying food, but a demon that might lash out and harm him at any moment.

"Don't... don't come closer..."

His voice was trembling.

The man who once dared to draw a sword and stab her, who once called her a lunatic to her face, who once used silence to defy her—now, like a wildcat with its spine crushed, he crouched in the corner, trembling all over.

Bai Qiangu stopped walking.

She stared into Ye Xuan's eyes—eyes that had once shone brighter than the stars, now filled with nothing but terror and defensiveness.

The way he looked at her was like looking at a wild beast.

No.

It was even more fearful than looking at a beast.

Because a beast's cruelty can be predicted, but Bai Qiangu's unpredictable, repeated savagery was the kind of torment that destroys a person's mind.

Ye Xuan no longer knew how to face her.

When she was gentle, he feared it was the calm before the storm.

When she was silent, he feared that the next second would bring a blade to sever his soul.

When she smiled, he feared what new torture lay hidden behind that smile.

His spirit had been worn down to a hollow, battered wreck.

Bai Qiangu gently set the tray on the low table beside the bed and took two steps back, keeping what she thought was a safe distance.

"I won't touch you," she said, her voice as soft as possible. "Eat it yourself."

Ye Xuan stared at the bowl of porridge for a long time.

Then he slowly reached out, picked up the bowl, lowered his head, and took a sip.

His hand was shaking. Some of the porridge spilled onto his collar.

Bai Qiangu watched his trembling hand, and her heart ached as if someone had gripped it tightly.

She wanted to step forward and wipe away the spilled porridge from his clothes, but as soon as she moved one step, Ye Xuan jerked his head up like he'd been shocked, his eyes filled with terror.

She stopped.

"…I'll wait outside."

Bai Qiangu turned and walked out of the secret chamber.

After the door closed, she leaned against the cold stone wall and slowly slid down to sit on the ground.

She raised her hand and looked at her long, fair fingers.

These hands had once cooked porridge for him, combed his hair, and braided him an identical grass ring.

These same hands had also cut off his fingers, burned his lips, and stabbed out his eyes.

"He's afraid of me," Bai Qiangu murmured to herself, her voice carrying a fragility she herself found unfamiliar.

"He really is afraid of me."

She buried her face in her knees, her shoulders trembling slightly.

She didn't cry.

She hadn't cried in many years.

Tears like these had already dried up on the day she was thrown into the blood pool at the age of five.

But now, she felt something inside her chest shattering.