A Single Word Awakens the Dreamer

These words struck like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, detonating with explosive force within Wu Lingxiao's consciousness.

She stood frozen, as if struck by lightning.

Yes... why?

As a former empress who had kept a harem of concubines and male consorts, who had regarded the handsome men of the world as mere playthings, she had always been fickle and heartless by nature. If the "Eternal Conquest" had truly been fully lifted, if her feelings for Ye Xuan were truly nothing but pure hatred, she could have summoned ten or twenty handsome men to share her bed that very instant—proof of her freedom, a way to wash away the humiliation of being conquered.

But she hadn't.

She hadn't even entertained such a thought, not once. It had never even crossed her mind.

For the past ten days, Ye Xuan had consumed her every waking thought.

The way he bled. The way he sneered. The sound of his gentle voice calling her name...

"Could it be... that I still harbor feelings for him?"

Once that thought took root, it gnawed at her heart like a venomous serpent.

A wave of unprecedented panic and agitation washed over her—the terror of being betrayed by her own heart left her teetering on the edge of madness.

Just then, the dozen or so handsome men behind her, seeing the Female Emperor's silence, assumed this was their moment to shine.

One man with an alluring, almost feminine face dared to step forward, his voice honeyed as he cooed, "Your Majesty, this little girl doesn't know what's good for her. Why not let this humble servant attend to you..."

As he spoke, he reached out, attempting to brush his fingers against the sleeve of Wu Lingxiao's robe.

Several other men pressed closer, a torrent of fawning flattery spilling from their lips. The cloying scent of perfume and deliberately projected masculine allure mingled in the air, assaulting Wu Lingxiao's nostrils.

In the past, perhaps she would have found it enjoyable.

But now, Wu Lingxiao's stomach churned with violent revulsion!

"Get away! Don't touch me!"

Wu Lingxiao's agitation had reached its breaking point. Her eyes bloodshot, she violently swept her wide, dark-golden sleeve through the air.

BOOM!

The terrifying spiritual energy of a Mahayana-stage cultivator erupted like a tidal wave, manifesting as countless razor-sharp gilded wind blades.

The dozen or so handsome men who had been vying for her favor moments before didn't even have time to scream. They were instantly reduced to clouds of blood mist—shredded flesh and gore spray arcing through the air, only to be halted inches from Ying'er by an invisible barrier of spiritual force.

The metallic stench of blood flooded the great hall.

Wu Lingxiao panted heavily, her chest heaving. She looked at the blood soaking the floor, then turned to Ying'er—unharmed, utterly untouched—and her gaze warped into something wild and savage.

"Listen to me!"

She lunged forward, both hands clamping down on Ying'er's shoulders with crushing force, her nails threatening to dig into the girl's tender skin. "You MUST hate Ye Xuan! You must see him for what he truly is! He's a liar, a demon!"

"If you don't... then I'll make you endure the most cruel torments this world has ever known! I'll sever your tendons, carve up that pretty face of yours, and leave you wishing for death!"

Confronted by the maddened, fiendish visage of the Female Emperor, Ying'er's brows knitted slightly in pain, but her eyes held no fear.

She looked up at Wu Lingxiao and asked softly, "Sister, keeping me locked in here, separated from my husband—isn't that already the most cruel punishment in the world? What else is there for me to fear?"

Wu Lingxiao froze.

The strength in her grip slackened, almost involuntarily.

She looked at this seemingly fragile girl, who was yet so impossibly resolute, and suddenly her vaunted imperial dignity felt like an absurd joke.

Ying'er reached out and gently took hold of Wu Lingxiao's trembling arm.

"Sister."

Ying'er's voice was soft as a spring breeze, but every word pierced like a dagger. "You DO have feelings for my husband. And those feelings have nothing to do with the 'Eternal Conquest.' Your own heart has already taken him in."

"You're lying! I don't! How could I possibly love that demon!?" Wu Lingxiao recoiled as if burned by a branding iron, flinging off Ying'er's hand. She roared in fury, stumbling backward, her eyes filled with denial and terror. "I refuse to accept it! It's all his sorcery playing tricks on me! I'll torment you! I'll make you wish you were dead, and I'll make Ye Xuan kneel before me and beg for mercy!"

Hearing these blustering threats, Ying'er didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled gently.

"Sister, you can't even see the truth of your own heart," Ying'er said, shaking her head with quiet certainty. "You don't dare."

"What did you say?! I am the sovereign of this realm! There is nothing I don't dare!"

Ying'er met her gaze with a warm smile. "You only say that out loud. Every day, you go down to the dungeon to torment my husband, watching him bleed and suffer—that's just the two of you bickering like lovers. My husband knows this well. He won't truly blame you. He's just waiting for your anger to cool, waiting for you to recognize your own heart."

"But tormenting ME is different."

Ying'er's eyes turned serious: "I am my husband's bottom line. If you truly hurt me, truly torture me... then when that day comes, he will never, EVER forgive you. Sister, you know this better than anyone. You're afraid of his hatred. That's why, all these ten days, you haven't dared to lay even a single finger on me."

Wu Lingxiao's face went deathly pale. She bit down hard on her lip, staring at Ying'er with burning eyes, and snarled, "Ridiculous! I am the great Xia Dynasty's Female Emperor, sovereign of all under heaven! Why would I need forgiveness from a prisoner? What do I care if he forgives me or not?!"

"Sister..."

Ying'er let out a soft sigh, her gaze carrying a wisdom that seemed to see through the illusions of the mortal world.

"For us women, the happiest moment in life is never when we stand atop the peaks of ten thousand people, nor when we possess all the handsome men of the realm. It's... when we give our hearts completely and unreservedly to the man we love."

A tender smile bloomed at the corner of Ying'er's lips as she recalled the image of Ye Xuan shielding her in the Abyss of the Gods. "Now that you've experienced the joy of giving your whole heart away like that... there's no going back."

She looked into Wu Lingxiao's violently trembling eyes and delivered the final blow:

"You can never again be that coldhearted, callous Female Emperor of before."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut your mouth!!"

Wu Lingxiao completely shattered.

She clapped her hands over her ears, shrieking in a desperate frenzy to drown out Ying'er's words. She dared not listen any longer. If she heard even one more word, that icy fortress she had built to hide behind would crumble into dust.

"I am the Female Emperor! I have no heart! I love no one!"

She howled in rage, her hands flying through a rapid sequence of seals.

Torrents of spiritual power surged forth, weaving dozens of impenetrable barrier formations that sealed the side hall on all sides, locking it down completely.

When she was done, she turned and fled like a cornered beast, her imperial robes whipping violently in her wake, and charged out of the palace hall.

With a thunderous slam, the heavy doors boomed shut, and the hall plunged back into silence.

Surrounded by pools of blood, Ying'er sat quietly upon the soft couch, her gaze fixed on the sealed doors. She knew that this lofty Female Emperor, seated high above all others, was already teetering on the brink of collapse.

"Husband..." Ying'er clasped her hands together at her chest, silently praying. "You must get better soon..."

And deep within the imperial palace, in the study, Wu Lingxiao, who had fled back, slumped into the broad dragon throne.

She covered her face with both hands, and between her fingers, warm liquid slipped down uncontrollably, unnoticed.

She did not know how long she sat alone on that dragon throne.

Only when the searing heat suppressed in her chest gradually cooled, turning into a near-shameful clarity, did she abruptly rise to her feet. Her imperial robes stirred up a gust of wind as she strode with large steps toward the Demon-Suppressing Hall.

She wanted to see that man with her own eyes.

She had to beat him again.

Only then would she feel a little better inside.