Chapter 284

Chapter 284

The bedchamber was almost entirely devoid of anything intact or untouched by the impact. If not completely shattered, everything was in tatters. The vanity table, barely held up by its last two legs, teetered precariously.

Two figures clashed within the hall, their movements blurred into streaks, leaving only ghostly trails. What had once been a spacious room now felt cramped for combat, forcing them into close-quarters exchanges.

The white-clad figure slashed with a sword-like left hand, its sword aura slicing the air with a faint gleam. The black figure dodged at close range, yet invisible blades shredded its robes, revealing not human flesh but shimmering black scales beneath.

As the black figure evaded, it morphed its palm into a taloned claw, shattering the golden light conjured by the white figure’s right hand. Clearly, it pressed forward to disrupt the white figure’s one-handed hand seals to complete the spell.

The scales proved remarkably resilient—sword aura struck them without leaving a trace, their glossy surface unmarred.

The slender white-clad figure was nearly forced against the wall.

In the next instant, it stepped back, the impact collapsing part of the wall. Using the surface as leverage, it flipped midair and delivered a spinning kick—in a single fluid motion.

The powerful kick, infused with overwhelming force, launched the black figure backward. The latter braced just in time, narrowly avoiding crashing into it.

In that split second of recovery, the white figure vanished from sight. Yet the black figure didn’t glance around—instead, it instantly raised an arm to block the mountain-like force crashing down.

The shockwave of the impact rippled outward, shattering the vanity table at last. The rest of the furnishings met the same fate, collapsing into splinters.

Fragile porcelain had shattered long ago, now reduced to razor-sharp fragments littering the ground.

A foot landed firmly—not on the black-scaled arm but atop a levitating magic circle. Tiered rings of pressure stacked downward, each layer bearing the weight of peaks despite the weight of a single person.

Beneath the black figure’s feet, a mirroring magic circle flared to life, resonating with the one above. Under such gravity, an ordinary person would have been crushed into pulp—yet the black figure was no ordinary being, standing firm despite the force.

The exposed arm of the black figure was now fully covered in black scales, far more visible than the fleeting glimpses before—an irrefutable mark of the inhuman.

Su Yi’s fingers moved rapidly, layering seal upon seal. Golden rings of energy stacked downward, pressing with increasing intensity. Her smile softened, but the killing intent in her eyes was razor-sharp.

Yet none of the chaos within the chamber reached the outside world, all sound and fury sealed away by an unseen ward. Otherwise, not just the furnishings—the entire hall would have collapsed by now.

Both combatants remained frozen mid-struggle.

Su Yi was furious at the constant interruptions to her close combat. Her head throbbed with feverish heat, and fighting in this state was beyond aggravating—especially against something so thick-skinned.

It was scrambling her thoughts. She’d known this wretched creature’s appearance heralded disaster.

“You never show up without a reason,” Su Yi chuckled softly, though her eyes held no mirth. “Come to relive the past? What are you searching for in this dream?”

There was no past to return to.

*Feel my sorrow—even if my flesh crumbles and my soul fractures, we shall never be separated.*

Because she loved you—so desperately—that letting go was unthinkable.

Her voice dripped honeyed venom. “You’re not trying to—” She cut herself off, her eyes sharpened, locking onto the door as if she could see straight through the barriers.

At the same moment, the black figure did the same.

Both combatants, frozen mid-struggle that could have escalated unpredictably, now paused in unison, silently waiting.

Like twin hunters coiled to spring, they bided their time in perfect stillness—waiting for the moment to deliver a fatal blow, granting no quarter.

Consort Ping had the palace servants she brought block the maid named Qinxin, then swiftly strode toward the bedchamber where Rong Noble Consort resided, putting on a concerned visitor's act.

Originally irritated at being kept waiting, Consort Ping had wanted to see how long this maid could stall. Did she think Consort Ping wouldn’t notice? Using the imperial physician’s treatment as an excuse to buy time—how blatant.

When the imperial physician, who shouldn’t have arrived so quickly, appeared, Qinxin’s expression remained unchanged, but inwardly, she was somewhat surprised.

Truth be told, when the physician saw Consort Ping, though he had some prior warning and should have tactfully avoided her to delay further, Rong Noble Consort had already dismissed everyone. The physician didn't dare overstay his welcome.

The oppressive atmosphere, usually only felt by Kangxi, now weighed on the physician too. Even the palace servants didn’t dare disobey at this moment.

The physician knew better—after years of practice, he had never seen someone who had burned with such a high fever that it might have damaged her mind wake up so furious. Most people would be weak and barely able to speak, if not half-dead.

Compared to that, dealing with Consort Ping seemed almost manageable.

The physician, a palace old hand, wore a stern and rigid expression beneath his long beard. Upon seeing Consort Ping, he first offered the proper courtesies, his demeanor betraying no trace of guilt or unease—as though he'd done nothing underhanded.

Just as he had begun to relax slightly upon hearing that Her Highness had awakened—ah, so Sister Noble Consort was awake—

This very moment gave Consort Ping the opening she needed to break the stalemate. Sensing the opportunity, she spared no words with the physician who had tricked her and declared,

"Since Sister Noble Consort is already awake, and my purpose here was to visit her, there’s no need to trouble her to come out. I shall go to her myself." As she spoke, Consort Ping was already rising to her feet, signaling discreetly to her maids to block anyone who might interfere.

Her people knew their mistress's mind. Catching her signal, they immediately stepped forward, whether by design or accident, obstructing Qinxin. Though they didn’t resort to shoving, their sheer presence effectively cut off the maid.

Consort Ping knew she couldn’t stall for long—with only a handful of servants, she had to focus on stopping the most troublesome one.

How could a mere maid stop her?

As for the other palace servants, though they wanted to intervene, none dared to physically restrain her. Consort Ping easily shoved aside those who tried to block her, barking sharply, "You wretched curs! How dare you lay hands on this consort? Out of my way!"

Her preemptive scolding cowed the hesitant servants, and with an imperious air, she swept past them.

The remaining servants could only trail behind, their faces pale with panic.

But the initiative was now firmly in Consort Ping’s hands. Seizing the momentum, though it was her first time here, she quickly deduced the direction of the bedchamber.

The paths taken by those who rushed over upon hearing the commotion only confirmed her route.

In the end, none of them managed to stop her. Not a hairpin was out of place on Consort Ping, whose platform shoes still clicked confidently against the floor.

As the bedchamber came into view, a glint of triumph flashed in Consort Ping’s eyes. She had long understood—palace servants were useful for menial tasks, but when it truly mattered, numbers meant nothing. Just like her last night, and Rong Noble Consort today.

Those servants were only effective against the obscure, powerless minor consorts—mere ants. But at their level, such tactics were useless.

The thought of Rong Noble Consort’s forced composure upon seeing her—furious at her intrusion yet unable to vent—made the trouble worthwhile.

Just a few steps more, and she would reach the door.

Then, without warning, Consort Ping’s entire body convulsed. Her platform shoes wobbled unsteadily, and she fell heavily.

Having stormed ahead with such domineering confidence, she had even shaken off the maids who usually supported her. This time, no one caught her in time, and she hit the floor hard. But the pain of the fall was the least of her concerns. Her features contorted horribly as her limbs continued to jerk uncontrollably. The servants who rushed over to help froze in horror, too terrified to come nearer.