A realization struck her. Could it be that this woman hadn’t been sleeping at all before? Had she been lying silently in bed, merely resting her eyes while pretending to sleep?
And now, perhaps because she was afraid of talking in her sleep, she had been drugging Feng Yun’ai to prevent her from hearing things she shouldn’t hear.
Feng Yun’ai speculated for a moment, then lifted her blanket and stood up. Holding her breath, she walked to Sang Chencao’s bedside, wanting to hear the fragmented murmurs clearly.
What was she saying? What was so secret that no one else could hear it?
Feng Yun’ai gathered her long hair in her hand and leaned down cautiously, making sure no loose strands would brush against Sang Chencao and wake her.
As she leaned in, a single word reached her ear.
“Kill.”
Unlike how it was described in books—where a person’s nightmare-mumbles are slurred and nonsensical—Sang Chencao was different. Her pronunciation was crisp and clear, as if her words were steeped in frost.
A chill ran down the back of Feng Yun’ai’s neck. For a moment, she thought Sang Chencao was faking sleep again.
But the words didn’t stop.
The person on the bed lay perfectly still, her lips parting slightly as she spoke again: “Cliff Lord, kill her. Don’t kill me yet.”
Feng Yun’ai heard it clearly and suddenly felt that Sang Chencao’s earlier words weren’t lies. Wen Lanxin might truly have “raised” people.
But “raising” in this context was not what it seemed. From these few fragments, Feng Yun’ai was certain: Wen Lanxin raised people for the sake of killing.
She couldn’t even imagine that beneath the eternal spring of Yellow Sand Cliff, such cruel slaughter had taken place. It smelled like an endless fragrance of medicine, but hidden beneath it were countless layers of ancient, bloody scents.
Feng Yun’ai didn’t want to pry too much and intended to pull away, but she was rooted to the spot by a sudden sentence.
The woman wearing someone else’s face suddenly spoke again: “I can survive a hundred days in the Snake Pit. I will live longer than them. Cliff Lord, believe me.”
Why stay in a Snake Pit for a hundred days?
Feng Yun’ai had read many books and seen secret methods where various poisonous insects were placed in the same jar to kill each other—without exception, this was to breed a King Gu.
But putting a person into a pile of venomous snakes… could it be to create a Human Gu?
Thinking of Sang Chencao’s strange constitution that made insects and beasts fear her, and the medicinal fragrance she had caught a whiff of last time…
Feng Yun’ai was almost certain that Wen Lanxin’s intentions were nefarious.
A moment later.
Sang Chencao spoke again: “The Cliff Lord raised me. I will give my bones and flesh to the Cliff Lord to eat. When I grow bigger, I’ll have more flesh. Killing me now would be a waste.”
Her words were spoken through gritted teeth, carrying a faint, indiscernible plea. She was begging in a low voice.
Why raise a person to be eaten?
Medicinal fragrance, immunity to all toxins, and having one’s bones and skin stripped and eaten…
It wasn’t a Human Gu. She was a Medicinal Human!
So, Sang Chencao hadn’t been lying.
Feng Yun’ai froze in place, her heart feeling as if it were submerged in seawater—stifled and bitter. She guessed that the incense burning now was likely what Wen Lanxin used to control the people she “raised.”
That was why even Sang Chencao, who dared to taste a hundred poisons, had to drink the antidote first.
This knockout incense was powerful; no wonder it could drug the entire Alliance.
Feng Yun’ai seemed to understand why Sang Chencao hated Wen Lanxin so much. If someone had been treated like that since childhood, how could they ever feel love?
She hadn’t intended to hear so much; she had only wanted to know what the woman was hiding. After a while, she simply used her inner energy to block her ears and lay back down, her heart pounding like a drum.
She couldn’t help but wonder how Sang Chencao managed to act so carefree after suffering through so much. She couldn’t help but feel… a sense of pity.
She must be forcing a smile, Feng Yun’ai thought.
As dawn approached, the incense on the table burned out, and the rising blue smoke finally withered away.
Feng Yun’ai sat up without moving. Not wanting to appear too obvious, she lowered her head and began putting on her shoes and socks.
In her peripheral vision, she saw the other person staring at her unblinkingly. After a long time, the woman suddenly scoffed and asked slowly, “Did Xiuxiu sleep well last night?”
Feng Yun’ai paused and said softly, “Quite well.”
Sang Chencao leaned back against the wall, her hand resting on her knee as she gestured for Feng Yun’ai to come over. She sneered, “What do you know now, Xiuxiu? Why don’t you tell me?”
Feng Yun’ai slowly turned her head and looked at her, pressing her lips together.
“If I hadn’t stepped into the trap on purpose, how could you have possibly fooled me?” Sang Chencao sighed nonchalantly.
