Feng Yun’ai froze instantly. Her ear was scorched by the sudden rush of hot breath, feeling as though she had been dropped into a boiling pot with no room to struggle.
Sang Chencao lowered her voice. “Wen Lanxin hasn’t left Yellow Sand Cliff for years. Aside from Feng Rong, I fear there is nothing else in this world that could drive her to step out of that place. Initially, I was just curious about what happened to Feng Rong that could make Wen Lanxin vanish in such a panic. I wanted to see her suffering and alone. The more lost she feels, the happier I am. If I can find an opportunity to strike, all the better.”
Feng Yun’ai had expected something like this, but hearing it directly from the woman’s mouth still sent a chill down her spine.
Sang Chencao touched the small blue-black mole beneath her left eye and sneered. “Do you know what this is, Little Xiuxiu?”
“A mole,” Feng Yun’ai answered honestly.
“This is a mark left by lethal poison. The reason I do not fear toxins is that I have been tested against a hundred poisons. The tiny bit that couldn’t be expelled was eventually driven out by Wen Lanxin using her internal power, where it condensed into these two moles,” Sang Chencao explained.
Feng Yun’ai’s pupils trembled slightly.
“The life I led as a child was barely human. It was only later—I don’t know why her nature suddenly changed—that she stopped tormenting me. She even began teaching me medicine, poisons, and martial arts,” Sang Chencao said languidly.
Feng Yun’ai understood Sang Chencao’s resentment, but now she found she couldn’t understand Wen Lanxin.
“Now, I don’t want Wen Lanxin to die. I want to watch her suffer. I want to know… now that Feng Rong is gone, will she follow her into death?” Sang Chencao spoke slowly, as if she were a dull saw gradually hacking the person she hated into seventy-two pieces.
This was an intensity of emotion Feng Yun’ai had never touched. The most overwhelming thing she had ever experienced was the death of Feng Rong, which had left her head spinning and ears ringing.
But that feeling arose from reverence and attachment, never from hatred.
Aside from those feelings of reverence, all other emotions in her heart were like a spring. She could see the water bubbling up, but she had no idea how deep or cold it truly was.
Thus, she didn’t quite understand Sang Chencao’s hate; she only knew that, logically, the woman should hate her.
After a long pause, Feng Yun’ai finally asked, “If Wen Lanxin does choose to die with her, what will you do then?”
Sang Chencao remained silent for a brief moment before saying indifferently, “I’ll just find a random place and do whatever I’m supposed to do.”
Having said that, she paused slightly and teased with a smile, “And what about you? Feng Rong is dead. If you can finally give her the justice she deserves, what will you do then?”
Feng Yun’ai didn’t know. Her heart felt hollow and bottomless, as if she couldn’t find anything to fill it.
Sang Chencao scoffed and said no more.
Feng Yun’ai had no answers. She thought for a long time but didn’t know what else she could do. Since leaving Listening Goose Peak, she felt like a stray goose separated from the flock, not knowing where to go.
“It’s time to go get the meat to feed the flower,” Sang Chencao said lazily.
As Feng Yun’ai stood up, she stole a glance at Sang Chencao. She felt that the woman seemed no different than usual, as if the scab had been ripped off only to be covered up once more.
It couldn’t be that the wound had healed. If she could heal and let go, how could there still be such hate?
Just like any other day, the carriage left the Alliance headquarters without hindrance.
After arriving at the tavern, two waiters struggled to carry the wooden barrel out. Drenched in sweat, they placed it onto the carriage and smiled cheerfully, clearly unaware of what the contents of the barrel actually were.
Having retrieved the meat, they had to return to the Alliance to melt more ice. There wasn’t much ice left in the cellar, just enough to last until the flower bloomed.
Feng Yun’ai said nothing as she circulated her internal power to warm and melt the ice. She took a lotus leaf and slowly guided the water into a pot.
This ice cellar was not far from the Sword Trial Stage, and it happened to fall within the boundaries of the formation Zhou Gui had set up yesterday.
Initially, Feng Yun’ai didn’t think much of it, but as she turned around, she suddenly noticed some strange scorched black marks on the ceiling of the cellar.
This place was used for storing ice, yet those marks were undoubtedly left by charcoal fire. If someone used fire here, the ice cellar would be ruined. If that happened, what would become of the Golden-Wanderer Eternal Flower?
Sang Chencao, who was outside getting some fresh air, called out from a distance, “What’s taking so long?”
“Come down and look.” Feng Yun’ai looked up to inspect the ceiling. She decided to use her lightness skill, hanging upside down from the roof of the cellar.
