Ying'er Shows Her Strength for the First Time

Wu Lingxiao was rendered speechless.

Over the years, countless faces flashed through her mind like scenes from a revolving lantern.

The men who had once fallen for her in earnest, the eyes that had burned with fervent love, the faces she had forgotten the moment she turned away—or whose names she had never even bothered to remember…

Her lips moved. She wanted to say, “That was their good fortune.” She wanted to say, “Falling in love with Me was their choice.” Yet those words caught in her throat, and she could not utter a single one.

She did not know what it was that had silently choked off those high-sounding excuses.

Wu Lingxiao’s gaze gradually turned cold.

She disliked being rendered speechless, especially when it was a seemingly frail little girl who had left her with nothing to say.

Taking a deep breath, she forcibly buried her embarrassment and discomfort deep within herself. Her gaze sharpened once more, dangerous and cold.

“Enough of this useless drivel.”

Her voice abruptly lowered, carrying a near-subdued chill. “I’ll put it another way. I know you’re pure and chaste. But what if I insist on defiling you? What then?”

The side hall fell silent for a brief moment.

Then Ying’er smiled.

“If I’m defiled, I’ll just wash myself.”

Her voice was gentle, but her tone was so calm it was almost indifferent. “As long as I was forced, my husband won’t blame me. He’ll only hate you.”

She paused. Those clear eyes lifted and fixed directly on Wu Lingxiao. Her expression shifted from calm to something deeper.

“But there’ll be no washing away the filth on you.”

“Because you did it willingly.”

Wu Lingxiao’s chest heaved violently. The rage and humiliation she had suppressed for far too long finally burst its banks.

She shot to her feet. Her imperial robes billowed in the sudden gale, and the black-and-gold dragon patterns shimmered beneath the lamplight. Her face—the face of an empress who had always stood above all under heaven—was now twisted into something almost feral.

“Ying’er, don’t blame me!”

Through gritted teeth, she formed a seal with both hands, and boundless spiritual power gathered, poised to erupt.

This was the full force of a peak Great Ascension cultivator—enough to reduce the entire side hall to dust in an instant.

Yet at that very moment…

A pressure descended without a sound.

It seemed light and casual, yet weighed upon her like the heavens themselves.

Wu Lingxiao felt her knees being pressed toward the ground by a pair of invisible hands, slowly and steadily from above.

She clenched her teeth and desperately drew upon the remaining power of her Temporal Dao Body, attempting to rewind this instant.

It was useless.

Her temporal power was like a moth flung against a boulder. It fluttered twice before shattering soundlessly beneath that pressure.

Her knees struck the ground without the slightest suspense.

Bang!

The black iron floor was hard and icy. The chill seeped through her imperial robes and into her flesh, jolting her awake.

Wu Lingxiao knelt on the ground, both hands braced against the floor, her knuckles pale. On the face of the Empress of Great Xia, a rare expression had appeared—fear.

It was not that she had never encountered powerful beings.

She was the Empress of Great Xia, a peak Great Ascension cultivator blessed with the innate gift of a Temporal Dao Body. In this world, there were only a handful of beings who could truly trouble her.

But the pressure before her was completely different from the aura of every powerful expert she had ever seen.

It did not resemble strength gained through cultivation. It did not resemble spiritual power accumulated through arduous effort, nor did it resemble any law-force she knew.

It was more like… something innate, something that had existed since the beginning of heaven and earth. Something primordial.

Something she could not name.

And the things one could not name were the most terrifying of all.

Ying’er rose from the soft couch and slowly walked over to Wu Lingxiao, stopping before her.

She lowered her head and looked down upon the kneeling Empress of Great Xia. The clear eyes that usually held a gentle smile now contained no warmth at all—only an indifference that sent chills down the spine.

At some point, her right hand had come to cradle a tiny flame.

A golden flame burned quietly on her fingertip. It neither leapt nor raged; it simply rested there, radiating a profound, inexplicably warm light.

Yet this tiny flame made every hair on Wu Lingxiao’s body stand on end.

As she stared at it, she felt an unprecedented, instinctive terror rising from the deepest part of her soul.

This was not the vigilance one felt when facing a powerful enemy. It was the primordial trembling of a living creature confronting an existence whose depths it could not measure at all.

She wanted to summon her spiritual power. She wanted to unleash the force of time. She wanted to resist in any way she could.

But that invisible pressure was like an impenetrable net, sealing away every method at her disposal within her body. She could not move—not even an inch.

For the first time, she truly understood what powerlessness meant.

It was not the powerlessness of having one’s cultivation suppressed. It was the utter helplessness of confronting an existence on an entirely different level—a helplessness so complete that even the instinct to struggle was extinguished.

Ying’er bent down and moved closer to Wu Lingxiao. Her usually gentle, smiling face was now only inches away. Within those clear eyes, something flowed quietly in the depths, bottomless and dark.

Her voice was soft, so soft that only Wu Lingxiao could hear it, yet every word was perfectly clear as it fell into her ears, carrying a calm that brooked no argument.

“Sister, I gave you a chance to save face. Don’t throw it away.”

Her gaze rested on Wu Lingxiao’s face, composed and icy.

“My body isn’t as filthy as yours. Apart from my husband, no one is allowed to touch me.”

Wu Lingxiao ground her teeth, blood vessels standing out in her eyes. The fury and shame trapped beneath the pressure surged like a flood with nowhere to escape, crashing wildly through her body. With no outlet, it nearly drowned her from within, leaving her gasping for breath.

“You… you…”

She panted heavily, trying to curse her, only to discover that even the strength to open her mouth had been crushed beneath the pressure.

Ying’er straightened. Her expression returned to calm, and she merely sighed lightly, almost carelessly.

The golden flame on her fingertip drifted down with a gentle tap.

It landed on Wu Lingxiao’s sleeve with effortless lightness.

Wu Lingxiao felt pain.

It was not a sharp, excruciating agony, but a slow, penetrating burn that seeped into her very bones—as though something were burning deep within her soul, unhurriedly and with pinpoint precision. It was not her flesh that was burning, but something deeper.

Instinctively, she summoned the power of her Temporal Dao Body, trying to reverse this instant and erase the flame.

Temporal power erupted forth, but the moment it touched the golden flame, it was like a handful of snow thrown into a furnace. It evaporated and dispersed, vanishing without leaving behind even the slightest trace.

Wu Lingxiao’s expression changed drastically.

She froze in place. For the first time, genuine, bone-deep panic appeared in those usually steady imperial eyes.

“How… how is this possible? Why can’t the power of my Temporal Dao Body extinguish even this tiny flame?”

Ying’er stood to one side, watching her with an impassive expression. Her voice was as calm as if she were speaking of something that had nothing to do with her at all.

“Just on the strength of your half-baked Temporal Dao Physique, you think you can extinguish my flames? Keep dreaming.”

She paused, lowering her gaze to the small golden flame burning quietly on Wu Lingxiao’s sleeve. The corners of her lips curved ever so slightly, carrying a kind of gentle tenderness that sent chills down the spine.

“This is my warning to you. My flame will continue to burn on your body until the day your life ends.”

“It won’t kill you,” she added calmly. “But every time you try to attack me, try to hurt me, or attempt one of your filthy tricks in front of me, it will burn a little deeper.”

Wu Lingxiao stared fixedly at the flame, her knuckles turning white. Her mind raced as she compared it with every ancient inheritance, mysterious flame, and peerless divine fire she knew.

Then, all at once, she realized something.

The color drained from her face, leaving it as pale as ash.

“There is only one flame in this world with such an effect.”

For the first time, all the thunderous force vanished from Wu Lingxiao’s voice. It became hoarse and trembling, filled with disbelief and horror.

She stared at the golden flame, her eyes quivering. Those imperial eyes, usually as cold and sharp as blades, were now filled with panic.

Ying’er did not answer. She merely raised her eyes, a faint smile glimmering in their clear depths—a smile of complete confidence, the calm of someone who needed no explanation.

“Good. At least you know.”

Her voice remained gentle, yet at that moment it carried a casual, overwhelming authority.

She turned and walked back to the couch. Sitting down once more, she picked up the cup of tea that had long since gone cold and took a small sip. Then she lifted her eyes and looked at Wu Lingxiao, who was still kneeling on the floor, with an almost languid gaze.

“Now.”

Her voice was calm and unhurried.

“Get out. Now.”