Chapter 71: The Devil’s Sacrifice (21p1)
Yu Jiao was prepared for this.
After all, Helan Duo had said that Jiao Hongyue would be brutally murdered by Yu Fenghe on this day.
This might happen during this meeting.
Perhaps once this plot point was completed, this dream game would also end.
For this reason, Yu Jiao was prepared to die a heroic death—after all, her real self would not die.
Even so, facing this scene, she was still startled.
“Hongyue.”
His dark, heavy eyes were fixed on her, his thin lips colorless. He was like a vengeful ghost, summoned by a ritual.
His long, thin, black braids hung down, suspended before Yu Jiao, like the hangman’s noose.
A look of someone who was about to kill and silence.
—”My brother has been replaced by something, neither human nor ghost.”
Yu Fenghe reached out for Yu Jiao, and the blue veins on his pale hand were bulging, looking cold and fierce.
The hand that seemed to be about to take her life placed a steaming cup of tea on the table.
A faint, ghostly fragrance wafted up.
Yu Jiao blinked.
Only then did she realize: the Smart Brain had a privacy setting. Outsiders who were not the owner could not hear or see the panel messages.
As expected, Yu Fenghe just said gently, “Hongyue, drink your tea.”
—Yu Jiao could almost hear the meaning of ‘Da Lang, it’s time for your medicine.’
Yu Jiao looked up. “Stop beating around the bush. Just say it. What do you want?”
Yu Fenghe sat opposite her, his eyes lowered as he smoothed his sleeves.
A moment of silence.
He lifted his teacup and took a sip, then uttered words as bitter as the tea leaves. “Hongyue, what have you decided about the matter I mentioned before?”
…What matter?
This dream has no backstory. Yu Jiao was completely at a loss.
To avoid being exposed, she curled her lip coldly and said, in a noncommittal tone, “What do you think?”
Yu Fenghe sighed, his long, slender, pale fingertips lightly tapping the table. Glistening characters appeared. He operated it twice, and Yu Jiao’s Smart Brain suddenly dinged, showing that she had received a new message.
She opened it and saw a file from a contact named ‘Psycho’.
At the top were four large words—
[Divorce Agreement]
Yu Jiao: “?”
She looked up at the ‘psycho’ himself.
The latter covered his mouth and coughed twice, looking sickly and pitiful. He lifted a pair of eyes that were full of unspoken words:
“You should have received the file. If there are no problems, then sign and agree.”
“…”
“Hongyue, my time is short. I won’t hold you back anymore. Let’s… part on good terms.”
Yu Fenghe closed his eyes and sat upright, his shoulders broad and flat, his features as sharp as a desolate, craggy mountain.
“If you want to maintain the marriage alliance with the Yu family, you can consider my second younger brother.”
“?”
Yu Jiao was stunned.
Yu Fenghe avoided Yu Jiao’s gaze. “He is not the… bastard that the rumors say. In fact, he, like me and Bingci, is of Mother’s bloodline. It was only for some unavoidable reasons that we claimed he was Father’s illegitimate son.”
An image of a person she had only met once flashed in Yu Jiao’s mind, that hanging, ghostly figure.
“His name is Yu Shui,” Yu Fenghe pressed his lips together, his voice hoarse and unspeakable. “He can, with you, marry into the Jiao family.”
“…”
…What… what is this?
Yu Jiao looked at him with a look of utter absurdity.
“If you want to maintain your connection with that… Mr. Chow Chow, Yu Shui will not interfere.”
Yu Fenghe paused and added in a low voice:
“I’ve asked Mr. Chow Chow. He has no objections either.”
Yu Jiao: “…”
…Huh?
So you two were discussing important matters, and this is what you talked about?
And, with Chow Chow’s petty, jealous personality, she didn’t believe for a second that he would agree to such a thing.
He must have been threatened or bribed, or he was just tired of being pestered and, thinking that it was just a virtual game, he had reluctantly agreed.
“Even if you want to have an open relationship, Yu Shui will cooperate. Of course, he will never betray you.”
Yu Fenghe was earnest and certain.
…He was like a salesman, trying to sell the “Yu Shui” product, or some enthusiastic matchmaker.
Just not like a normal husband.
Yu Jiao lifted her teacup.
The scorching heat spread through the cup, as if it could burn a mark in the cold room.
Yu Fenghe suddenly frowned and covered his mouth, coughing violently. His pale hands were tense, the light green veins bulging.
“…”
After a long moment, he was hunched over, his hands on the table. He raised his voice slightly. “Come in.”
The next moment, a vertical crack appeared in the snow-white wall, and then, a dark door opened, and a dark figure walked out.
So thin… the magnificent clothes were out of place on him. He was tall, like a crane, a gaunt skeleton.
He walked unnaturally, as if he were trying to hide a limp, with an air of awkwardness, both cold and proud and embarrassed.
When he got closer, he lowered his head, silent. His messy, black, medium-length hair covered most of his face, and his features could not be seen clearly.
“This is Yu Shui.”
Yu Fenghe introduced him.
Yu Jiao withdrew her gaze and said sarcastically, “Yu Fenghe, are you trying to get rid of me?”
The plot? The history? Jiao Hongyue had died before she could remarry this Yu Shui.
Yu Fenghe opened his pale lips, and before he could speak, he once again covered his mouth and coughed violently. This time, a few bright red bloodstains appeared on the snow-white silk handkerchief.
His falling hair hid his features. He panted:
“I’m a little tired. Yu Shui, you take Hongyue and go first.”
His voice was broken and heavy.
His large, pale hand was clutching his face, the blue veins on his neck bulging. His tall, handsome body trembled slightly, and his hair shifted a little, revealing the strangely shaped tips of his ears—like gnarled, withered wood.
He forced a few words from his throat. “Go… quick… quick… go…”
Yu Jiao was scared by him. “What’s wrong with you?”
His only response was an even more pained cough, and even a low, deep roar and hiss. The nails of the hand that was clutching the silk handkerchief were turning black and growing at a visible rate.
—Is it coming!?
Just as she was eagerly waiting, her wrist was suddenly seized by a warm hand. She was pulled up and forced away from the “secret to clearing the game.”
She looked up and met a pair of deep, fluorescent purple eyes.
“Go.”
Yu Shui was concise. He pulled Yu Jiao and ran, leaving the strange, earth-shaking cough behind.
The two of them ran down the snow-white corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing.
“Stop!”
Yu Jiao shook off his hand and questioned this spoiler. “What’s going on?”
He was clearly an insider.
But he was silent, as if he had been burned by her gaze. He suddenly lowered his head.
The hand at his side was slightly clenched, and he secretly rubbed it, as if he were savoring the soft, smooth touch of their skin contact.
Yu Jiao didn’t notice his little move. She crossed her arms and looked up at him impatiently. “Are you mute?”
“…”
“Fine. If you won’t talk, I’ll go and see for myself.”
With that, she turned and was about to return to that dangerous, fatal place.
Yu Shui immediately blocked her, silently shaking his head, his firm body showing his attitude.
His tall, thin body blocked the path completely.
“…”
Yu Jiao paused, her tone strange. “You don’t have to block me—”
“…”
“—He’s coming himself.”
Through Yu Shui’s bony shoulders and neck, she saw Yu Fenghe, his head bowed, his expression dark, stumbling not far away.
Strangely, though he was alone, it was as if he were carrying a host of ghosts.
As if he had dyed the clean, empty corridor a dark grey.
“Hongyue…”
Struggling, pained, and suppressing a craving and excitement.
Yu Fenghe was walking with a strange gait, like a string puppet, or a spirit that had just taken human form and was not yet familiar with a human body.
Under his wide robes, his five fingers were claws, his nails black and sharp.
Crimson blood was dripping from between his pale fingers, blooming into a tragic flower on the smooth, metal floor.
Yu Shui was on high alert, standing in front of Yu Jiao.
The man, who was neither human nor ghost, looked up, revealing a cold, resolute, indifferent face.
As if a machine had malfunctioned, he called her name, haltingly:
“…Jiao. Hong. Yue… Jiao… Yue… Jiao… Yu… Jiao… Jiao… Yu… Jiao.”
We’ve finally met.
Yu Jiao.
“…”
—A familiar expression, a familiar voice.
The Yu Fenghe she was familiar with, the one from eleven years later, had appeared.
His figure was like a ghost. In the blink of an eye, he appeared in front of Yu Jiao. An ominous black gas swirled around him, and he sent the attacking Yu Shui flying.
The weak second son of the Yu family immediately fell to the ground, spitting blood.
Yu Fenghe looked down at Yu Jiao coldly, his terrifying black claw raised high.
A scream.
In the distance, a guest who had stumbled in was shocked to see this scene of a husband, about to kill his wife. The next moment, a few servants, completely covered in black robes, suddenly appeared and, like ghosts, dragged the guest away.
The murder was interrupted.
The dangerous black claw was frozen in mid-air.
On Yu Fenghe’s otherworldly face, as if a digital image had flashed, a hint of a struggle appeared.
“…No.”
In an instant, it was replaced by a blank expression.
He swung down fiercely—
Not far away, Yu Shui propped himself up. This scene fell into his dark purple eyes, and his pupils constricted. A few long, thin legs shot out from the air, but because of the distance, they just managed to hook the corner of his robes.
The attack came.
Yu Jiao closed her eyes.
—It’s finally over.
A cool breath brushed past, like a spring breeze, and stopped in front of Yu Jiao.
With a squish.
A sharp blade pierced through flesh.
“…”
Yu Jiao opened her eyes in shock and met a pair of pale green, affectionate eyes. The bottom of his eyes held a pain, but he forced them into the shape of a crescent moon.
—Helan Duo, no, it should be the eighteen-year-old ‘Helan Duo’ from the dream.
He was covered in a cold sweat, his voice dry.
“Yu Jiao, don’t look. It’s too bloody.”
At the same time, Yu Shui’s sharp pincer-like legs had already pierced Yu Fenghe’s body, pinning him in place.
Crack, crack.
A scalp-numbing, cracking sound.
Yu Fenghe lowered his eyes coldly and, with a brutal force, broke the few troublesome legs.
The legs trembled.
Yu Shui coughed up a mouthful of blood, his expression pained, but he still struggled to fight back.
The blood of the few of them had dyed this clean space red.
Yu Jiao caught ‘Helan Duo’s’ limp body.
He leaned weakly against Yu Jiao’s shoulder and said in a hoarse voice, “I’m sorry. Even though I know everything is fake, I don’t want to see you die in front of me.”
He took a deep breath and said in a heavy voice:
“eleven.”
At that moment, in the pale white corridor, a refreshing blue light lit up, and an ethereal voice sounded:
“I am here.”
‘Helan Duo’s’ gaze was clear and sharp. He said quickly, “Father has gone mad from an unknown aberration reaction and almost hurt Mother. Twenty minutes ago, I gave you the highest authority. Now, deal with it.”
At this moment, he already had the composure of someone in power, eleven years later.
“Alright, sir.”
eleven answered.
A blue light was projected, covering the sky and the earth, like a cage, forming glistening blue characters. The electric light flashed, like a talisman, and surrounded Yu Fenghe.
The characters… seemed to be from the Holy Bible?
When he tried to break through these annoying characters, the moment he touched them, a sizzling, burning sound was heard. Helpless, he could only glare at Yu Jiao, like a trapped beast.
He said coldly, “You think you’re safe now… one day…”
“Don’t mind him.”
‘Helan Duo’ propped himself up and, facing Yu Jiao, opened his bloodless lips, as if he wanted to say something.
But he had no more strength. He just asked, his voice as thin as a thread, intermittently:
“Yu Jiao, do you know about the double-slit experiment?”
Yu Jiao was covering the bleeding wound on his heart. Her stunned, unbearable expression had a hint of confusion. Before she could ask him what he meant, a gentle force pushed her consciousness out—
The dream was over.
…