Chapter 281

Chapter 281

Su Yi hadn’t dreamed in a long time. To be precise, whenever she did dream, the experience was always unpleasant.

She always dreamed of the past.

Once, the towering roots of a divine tree had snapped and toppled, withering completely. The trunk was riddled with cracks, as brittle as dried, shriveled leaves—just a light touch would turn them to dust.

The scorched earth stretched endlessly, fractured and lifeless.

Yet the air still reeked heavily of the stench of slaughter.

A young girl in an immortal's robe sat atop the fallen, dead tree. The hairpiece on her head was gone, and the once luminous star-embedded gems on her robe had dulled under the stains of blood. Swathes of dried blood nearly obscured the robe’s original color, as if she had been dragged out of a pool of blood.

Her fair face bore two thin, crescent-shaped streaks of blood trailing from the corners of her eyes down to her chin. Sorrow and hatred brimmed in her eyes.

The stark contrast between blood and snow-white skin cast a shadow even over her radiant beauty, making her resemble a vengeful spirit risen from hell.

A single tear rolled from her eye, sliding down the bloodstain on her cheek before landing on the bead in her hand. The crimson tear was slowly absorbed by the bead.

It was a thumb-sized, translucent bead resembling glass, filled with flecks of warm golden light—as if starlight had been trapped inside.

Even in broad daylight, the bead still glowed softly, its radiance undiminished. Its glow pushed back the darkness, enveloping the girl like moonlight’s gentle shimmer.

At this moment, it seemed like the only source of brightness.

*"These are all gifts for A-Yi. What’s inside is for A-Yi to find out herself."* A plump-cheeked child, holding a basket of beautiful beads, beamed mischievously as she patted the head of another child who looked just like her but was sulking.

When crushed, the beads would release the gifts hidden inside—like unboxing a mystery gift. Even with divine sense, one couldn’t tell what was inside until it was revealed.

There was even a burst of miniature fireworks when they shattered.

At first, Su Yi had found it a bit childish, but blind boxes had their own peculiar charm.

Later, when newer, more amusing things came along, Su Yi—ever restless—quickly moved on to her next "favorite."

Now, seeing it again under such circumstances...

Su Yi couldn’t even summon any expression, let alone respond to what was supposed to be her sister’s last gift.

This wasn’t like the childish squabbles of their childhood.

She crushed the bead. After the sparkles dissipated, what appeared was something Su Yi hadn’t expected—yet, in a way, she wasn’t entirely surprised.

The trapped Nascent Soul within the bead tried to flee the moment it shattered, but even after breaking free, it was immediately ensnared by the magic circle.

A spell array strong enough to trap even a Divine Transformation cultivator would have no trouble with a mere Nascent Soul—even if it had been set up hastily.

Only when she realized escape was impossible did she finally look at Su Yi. Seeing Su Yi’s current state, understanding seemed to dawn on her, and she let out a shrill, grating laugh.

After taking in the devastation around her, she spoke with eerie excitement: *"She’s dead!"* Her tone was utterly certain, her laughter growing even more shrill. The face that had always looked pitiful now contorted hideously.

*"Even Su Ruo couldn’t change everything in the end. What a shame I couldn’t see it with my own eyes."* Her voice thick with malice dripped from her words.

*"But seeing you now is just as good."*

Su Ruo was dead. Even if she had succeeded in binding her at the last moment, so what? It might hold her for now, but not forever.

She glanced upward, a flicker of fear flashing in her eyes. Once she broke free, she’d dispatch Su Yi to the afterlife. Without Su Ruo, Su Yi was nothing to fear.

If the feelings towards Su Ruo were jealousy and hatred for possessing too much, then towards Su Yi it was resentment—even though she lazed around and played all day without cultivating, she could still effortlessly obtain everything.

She stared at Su Yi, her eyes already tinged with crimson, a precursor to succumbing to demonic qi. The conflicts in the Demon Realm made human cultivation struggles look tame by comparison. How could useless trash like Su Yi possibly survive in the demon realm? Her malice only grew, as if she could already envision Su Yi’s inevitable downfall.

"Yes, Li Ke," Su Yi slowly curled her lips into a stiff, eerie smile, the twin trails of blood on her face making her expression even more unsettling. Yet the crimson in her eyes receded.

Li Ke's trapped miniature yuanying spirit saw that instead of being provoked into accelerating her fall into demonic cultivation, Su Yi seemed to have suppressed it halfway, despite the agony that had brought forth bloody tears.

"Do you know why A-Ruo gifted you to me?" Su Yi asked softly, her tone gentle.

Hearing this, Li Ke realized with dawning horror something was terribly wrong. The Magic Circle imprisoning her suddenly seemed to "come alive," silver tongues of Spiritual Fire encircling her. The instant the Spiritual Fire licked at her, the miniature yuanying spirit was instantly scorched, and Li Ke couldn’t help but scream in agony.

She tried to break free from the formation, only to be violently rebounded by formation backlash, forced to writhe in pain. She assumed A-Ruo had kept her alive until now just so Su Yi could witness her soul dispersion.

Su Yi knew her true nature too well—pleading for mercy would be useless, and Li Ke refused to beg before Su Yi anyway.

Instead, she shouted defiantly, "With A-Ruo and those beasts as my company in death, even if my soul disperses here today, it’s worth it!"

Even if her soul were to disperse, the Dao permitted—a remnant of her spirit or consciousness could still be nurtured by the world, allowing her eventual reincarnation.

But A-Ruo had truly perished, with no afterlife left. Such was the will of the Dao.

"A-Ruo was always compassionate. She wouldn’t let you meet such a fate—your soul dispersion into nothingness. You’re her final gift to me," Su Yi said, watching the Magic Circle, her words sharp as blades meant to wound Li Ke. "You'll remain with me forever."

As Su Yi’s words fell, Li Ke’s features contorted in agony and confusion. How could A-Ruo have been merciful towards her? The idea was laughable.

Hadn't A-Ruo intended for her to perish before Su Yi, just to ease Su Yi’s grief?!

Su Yi said nothing more, silently observing as if patiently waiting for something.

Soon, Li Ke realized with shock and dawning horror something was terribly wrong. As the Spiritual Fire continued to burn, she felt like cultivation materials being refined in a crucible—her miniature yuanying spirit was forcibly fused into the silver flames while the Magic Circle’s patterns gradually transformed into a mark.

A familiar yet loathsome mark—the silver flame sigil of the Beast Lord's Royal Seal.

Impossible!

A-Ruo had perished—shouldn't the Royal Seal have been destroyed along with her?!

Had A-Ruo actually separated it from herself?!

But Li Ke no longer had the chance to voice her shock. As the silver flame sigil took shape, her miniature yuanying spirit vanished completely.

She had been smelted into the mark, forever imprisoned within it as long as the sigil existed.

The silver flame sigil transformed into a streak of light, embedding itself into Su Yi’s forehead, where the fiery pattern shimmered clearly.

The dam of her grief finally had a release, continuously draining away—not sealed, but redirected elsewhere.

The sigil itself couldn’t bear the pain, but the spirit refined within it could.

Even knowing that time might blunt her sister’s pain, the soft-hearted older sister still sought ways to protect her little sister's happiness.

When Kangxi awoke, he glanced at the Imperial Noble Consort and noticed she remained still curled up with her face buried as before.

Wondering why she was so unusually still tonight, he sat up to leave the bed but suddenly reached out to touch Su Yi’s neck. His fingers came away damp from her sweat-drenched hair, his expression darkening. "Call the servants!"

He gripped her shoulders and turned her over, only to see her face unnaturally feverish and clammy with sweat, her lips so dry they were nearly peeling.

Not only were her hair strands damp, but her inner garments were also damp.

Kangxi could feel the heat just by holding her wrist; no wonder she’d slept so soundly without stirring. Even when he moved her earlier, she hadn’t reacted.

The palace maids, hearing the tension in the Emperor’s voice, didn’t dare delay and rushed in.

Liang Jiugong saw His Majesty holding the Imperial Noble Consort, but before any untoward thoughts could surface, he noticed the Emperor's grim expression and instantly realized something was wrong with the Consort.

The throbbing in his head had already started.

And so, that morning, the servants here were swamped.

The busier they got, the more mistakes cropped up.

The maids dressing Kangxi, under the oppressive atmosphere, faltered under the pressure—one dropped the chain of his ceremonial belt while adjusting it, the clang of it hitting the floor turned her face ghostly pale. She knelt to beg for mercy.

“Quiet.” Kangxi’s patience was wearing thin.

“Liang Jiugong.”

Liang Jiugong quickly stepped forward to take over, shooting a glance to have the others hustle her out. Normally, a reprimand and punishment would suffice, but now, saying more might just make things worse.

Once everything was finally in order, even the usually unflappable Liang Jiugong couldn’t help but exhale in relief—no shaky hands had botched things further.

Then, His Majesty walked back into the inner chamber, leaned over, and straightened the already-perfect quilt corners around the Imperial Noble Consort. In a lowered voice, he ordered, “Keep all disturbances away from her.” Only then did he rise to leave.

“Yes, Your Majesty. This maid will see to Her Highness’ care,” Qinxin promptly responded.

Meanwhile, over at Consort Ping’s quarters, she awoke to the sight of her maids’ faces lit up with relief, all crowding around her bedside.

A chorus of voices erupted—

“Your Highness, you’re awake!”

“Thank heavens, Your Highness has finally woken!”

...

The cacophony of overlapping voices made Consort Ping’s head throb. “Silence—!” The moment she spoke, she realized her voice was horribly hoarse, scraping like a rusted hinge.

One of the maids quickly poured water and brought it over. Consort Ping, too thirsty to berate them for the earlier clamor, chugged it down hastily. One cup barely eased the dryness; only after another did her throat ease slightly.

Once recovered, she finally prepared to ask what had happened after she fainted—only to notice her usual chief maid was nowhere to be seen.

Irked, she snapped, “Where is Xiu Jin? Why isn’t she here attending to me?” She was ill, and yet her maid wasn’t even by her side?!

At this, the questioned maid stammered, “Your Highness, Xiu Jin, she… she…” Her voice faltered, her expression fearful and hesitant, as if terrified to speak. At a time like this, it was testing Consort Ping’s last nerve.

Especially since Consort Ping had suffered greatly the night before, just now catching a break from the agony.

Already ill and uncomfortable, waking to the maids’ noisy crowding had worsened her headache. And now, that useless Xiu Jin wasn’t even here—had she slacked off while her mistress was sick?

The maid’s stuttering was the last straw. Consort Ping could no longer restrain her fury and backhanded the girl, growling, “Straighten your tongue and speak properly!”

The struck maid, terrified, immediately begged for mercy, “Spare me, Your Highness! This servant dares not hesitate anymore! Xiu Jin—she’s dead.” Consort Ping nearly thought she’d misheard. Xiu Jin—dead?!