Out of all expectations, Mu Daoying did not avert his gaze.
Liu Qiao’e’s slap made his entire body sway. In the next second, he straightened up again, calmly and fixedly staring back at her.
Mu Daoying looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time.
Just like Liu Qiao’e’s current state of mind, Mu Daoying’s mood was also extremely complicated.
Liu Qiao’e was actually the Immaculate Old Mother—he could not tell whether his heart held more shock or more disappointment and anger at being deceived.
His gaze scorched her skin like tongues of flame.
She was too sensitive to everything about him.
This made her feel very unaccustomed.
It was as if she had been offended, even humiliated.
Liu Qiao’e flew into a rage out of shame and swung another slap. “Keep staring, and believe you me, I’ll dig out that pair of eyeballs of yours!”
Upon hearing this, Mu Daoying’s thick eyelashes trembled slightly. Two clear, limpid gazes emerged from beneath them and met hers straight on again.
He said faintly, “Ying’s this pair of eyeballs failed to recognize the true Buddha; keeping them is useless anyway.”
Liu Qiao’e erupted in fury.
How could she not hear the sarcasm in Mu Daoying’s words?
This man appeared gentle like water, yet he was so vicious!
Detestable!
Liu Qiao’e forced a cold laugh onto her face. “What? You didn’t expect me to be the Immaculate one?”
Mu Daoying remained indifferent. “How would Ying dare to mistake a female servant of Joyous Union Palace by his side for the Old Mother?”
“Pa!”
Another slap landed on his left cheek.
Liu Qiao’e shouted angrily, “Insolent!”
Sharp-tongued, a mouth full of venom—this man was utterly dishonest!
Mu Daoying slowly pursed his lips and stubbornly fixed his stare on Liu Qiao’e once more.
Meeting those clear, ink-black eyes, Liu Qiao’e’s heart skipped a beat. She could not help but reach out with a pair of slightly cool hands and lift Mu Daoying’s chin.
“Don’t you have anything to say?”
“Are you resenting me—” She paused inexplicably. “For deceiving you?”
“Or are you dissatisfied with how I just dealt with Han Yunche and Bai Mengli?”
Mu Daoying’s eyes did not dodge or evade. He said word by word, “Ying dares not. Or does the Old Mother also feel that the punishment was too much, and out of guilt and shortness of breath, asks this question?”
He actually dared to retort to this extent! Liu Qiao’e’s face turned ashen. She viciously pinched his chin tighter.
Mu Daoying was young after all and had no beard; his chin was smooth and fair like congealed fat. Soon, a red mark appeared from her grip.
She could feel that ever since she revealed her true form, Mu Daoying’s attitude toward her had changed.
The sympathy and tolerance he had shown her before, while annoying, was nothing compared to the disgust now, which stung her eyes even more.
Was it because of the shift in status? That sword she had thrust into him? Or was he blaming her for being too ruthless toward Bai Mengli and Han Yunche?
Liu Qiao’e stared at him, looking left and right for a moment. “Mu Daoying, ah, Mu Daoying. Everyone says you’re gentle and kind, but I see you’re not as honest as you pretend to be.”
“Others love to step on the lowly and fawn on the mighty, curry favor with power. Yet Daozhang here has unyielding integrity, pities the poor and cherishes the weak, disdains wealth and scorns nobility.”
“Don’t you fear that I’ll beat you to death right here?”
Mu Daoying fell silent.
How could he not know that the wisest course right now was to submit to her?
In the Eastern Florescence Realm, the strong reigned supreme. The Immaculate Old Mother had clearly stepped into the cave nether realm.
With his injured and guilty body confronting her, it was like an egg striking a rock.
Yet even he himself was not clear where this clash of pride had come from. Was it anger at the Old Mother—or rather Liu Qiao’e—for deceiving him?
A trace of disgust finally emerged in Mu Daoying’s eyes. Unwilling to look at her anymore, he closed them.
But when he truly stopped looking at her, Liu Qiao’e became dissatisfied instead.
She coldly patted his cheek. “Look at me!”
Mu Daoying kept his eyes closed and said softly, “This kid is the Old Mother’s prisoner; naturally, he is at the Old Mother’s mercy.”
Liu Qiao’e sneered, curled two fingers, and lightly stroked his eyelid.
With his eyes closed, his bodily senses became especially acute.
Mu Daoying felt as if a small snake were slithering over his eye, sending chills down his spine.
Liu Qiao’e crooked her finger and tapped lightly, making a gesture as if to gouge out his eye. Leaning close to his ear, she asked softly, “I’ll ask you. Where exactly is Ling Yuan now?”
Mu Daoying said softly, “Ying truly does not know Ling Yuan’s whereabouts.”
“You’re quite perceptive. When the Ling Yuan incident broke, to keep distance, you don’t even call him Master anymore?” Liu Qiao’e mocked.
Mu Daoying said, “The Ling Yuan case has many suspicious points. Whether he is innocent or not, this kid has no certainty and also wants to investigate thoroughly.”
“What about the Soul-Returning Lamp?” Liu Qiao’e changed the subject. “Did Ling Yuan ever reveal anything about the Soul-Returning Lamp to you?”
Mu Daoying replied, “I hope the Old Mother understands. This question has already been asked of this one countless times, whether by Jade Clarity Temple or the Immortal Alliance. Even your sect’s former deputy leader inquired.”
Liu Qiao’e said coldly, “Then your answer.”
Mu Daoying: “This kid truly does not know.”
No sooner had he spoken than the hall fell quiet.
Though Mu Daoying appeared calm and composed on the surface, in reality, facing someone like Liu Qiao’e with profound cultivation and unpredictable moods, he truly did not dare to be careless.
After a while, he heard Liu Qiao’e’s voice ring in his ear again.
“There are some people in this world who are born to endure pain better than others. This Seat wants to see if Daozhang is one of those people.”
Mu Daoying’s mind tensed.
In the next second, a whooshing sound cut through the air.
The youth finally opened his eyes and had no choice but to face the crisis right before him.
He saw two fiery red objects emerge from Liu Qiao’e’s sleeve—neither quite whips nor flying swords.
The two blood snakes came extremely fast. Mu Daoying hastily retreated, but the tip of the “whip” still grazed him, tearing his lower garment and drawing a bloody mark on the outer side of his thigh.
Only then did he recognize the true nature of these things.
They were a pair of intricately crafted soft swords, marvelous works of heavenly skill.
But before Mu Daoying could think further, Liu Qiao’e whipped out another strike.
He was already injured, so his movements were sluggish.
Liu Qiao’e’s cultivation was a full three realms above his.
His reactions were already quite fast. As a disciple of Jade Clarity Temple, Mu Daoying’s footwork incorporated many variations of the Qimen Dunjia array formations—ethereal steps like an immortal, profound and unpredictable.
Against ordinary people, this pair of blood snakes would have been fatal on the spot.
Yet Mu Daoying could only struggle to preserve his life under them; injury was inevitable.
A beat too slow, and the blood snake bit into his back.
The soft sword concealed serrated grooves. Each time it struck Mu Daoying, it gouged out a string of flesh before relenting.
Mu Daoying’s face paled from the pain, yet he stubbornly held onto his pride and refused to cry out in weakness.
The more obstinate he was, the more Liu Qiao’e wanted to see him scream and beg for mercy.
Under her control, the blood snakes twisted nimbly like living creatures, striking from all directions at his waist, back, chest, and thighs.
At first, Mu Daoying only frowned slightly. Until one strike hit his already wounded back—agony upon agony. His body trembled all over, and a low, soft groan finally escaped through his teeth.
With keen eyes and a ruthless heart, Liu Qiao’e targeted that spot with her whips, striking while saying coldly, “Do you know what my sword is called?”
Mu Daoying’s lips nearly bit through from clenching, yet he could not suppress the successive groans leaking out.
“This kid does not know.”
What Liu Qiao’e did was less torture for confession and more venting her anger.
Mu Daoying did not understand where this hatred and disgust toward him had come from since they met.
Even if there had been occasional friction before, it should not have reached this point—as if they had accumulated grudges from past lives.
“My sword is called Blood Rakshasa, though the world has given it another name: Enchanting Slaughter.”
As she spoke, another strike hit his knee pit. Blood splattered as a large chunk of flesh was torn away.
Mu Daoying’s legs gave out, and he staggered to the ground. Amid the excruciating pain, he even thought that for a man-eating hungry ghost rakshasa, that fleeting cold and bewitching killing intent was quite fitting.
The blood snake slithered up to his neck.
Mu Daoying shuddered all over, his breathing froze, and he did not dare move.
The hidden barbs on the sword body lightly pressed against his throat. Mu Daoying had no doubt that in the next second, the Blood Rakshasa would shred it.
But Liu Qiao’e did not do so.
At the ninth realm’s cave nether realm, a cultivator’s divine soul had already comprehended the Heavenly Dao and begun to commune and fuse with all things.
At this point, even non-sword cultivators could achieve unity of man and sword.
With mere intent, she could retract the barbs hidden in the sword body, turning it completely into a smooth soft whip.
She tightened the Blood Rakshasa and coldly watched as Mu Daoying’s expression grew more pained, his breathing more rapid.
It was as if an invisible hand gripped his chest and lungs. Like a drowning man, Mu Daoying’s vision began to blacken. He struggled to breathe with all his might, but his breaths grew weaker and weaker. In his hazy consciousness, he could only see that floating, sinking splash of gorgeous color.
Like flames on the water’s surface.
In the last second before his consciousness left his body, he heard Liu Qiao’e’s cold, detached voice.
“The whereabouts of the Soul-Returning Lamp.”
“Ying—” Mu Daoying pursed his lips and, with his last breath, stubbornly insisted, “truly does not know.”
In the next second, the faint light before his eyes dispersed, and he finally plunged into thick darkness, thoroughly passing out.
When Mu Daoying woke again, he was no longer in the deep, cold main hall.
What met his eyes was a dim, icy prison cell with thick walls and high windows, no sight of sun or moon.
Only a few lamps embedded in the moss-covered walls illuminated the space within a few feet before him.
His hands and feet were bound. He tested the chains—made of profound water essence steel—and could not break free; they only tightened further.
If imprisonment had levels of experience, Mu Daoying had certainly gained some. He did not panic much and even breathed a slight sigh of relief.
Compared to facing Liu Qiao’e, he would rather stay in the dungeon facing those tortures he had endured a thousand times over. Axes cleaving, fires burning, lightning striking—nothing more.
Moreover, a cultivator’s physique was not comparable to a mortal’s. Any injury, as long as not fatal, could be healed; even severed limbs could be reattached.
Thinking of Liu Qiao’e, Mu Daoying involuntarily pursed his lips.
His nature was gentle yet slightly cold, always treating others kindly. Being as aggressive and sarcastic as he had been earlier was rare in his life.
Precisely because he had once treated her with sincerity, the betrayal now felt all the more ironic.
He rarely despised anyone, but now, toward this Immaculate Old Mother, a genuine disgust welled up from the bottom of his heart.
At that moment, a middle-aged scholar in azure robe and white shoes arrived hurriedly with several young men.
The man had a fair face without a beard and a kindly appearance. Upon seeing Mu Daoying bound to a pillar, he even cupped his hands in salute. “Immortal Mu, this one Manager Xing pays respects to Immortal.”