Chapter 67: First Fortress 19

An He opened her eyes once more.

The adjustable mechanical bed beneath her lifted up, and An He found herself in a slumped sitting position. She raised her head. Though she’d only lost consciousness moments ago, her scattered hair was already soaked with sweat.

For a moment, An He couldn’t tell if this was a nightmare.

It felt… different from usual.

She still had control over her limbs, but binding straps secured her wrists, waist, and ankles, robbing her of mobility in another way.

Gu Xianqing was gone.

The scene was still the Test Room, but only the surgical light overhead provided illumination. Beyond it, the floor stretched into endless darkness.

As she awoke, a despairing gloom descended quietly. Countless intangible vines emerged from the shadows, slithering along the cracks in the tiles, coiling around the cold bed legs, wrapping up An He’s ankles.

It was as if her sense of smell had just returned—she suddenly caught the acrid tang of rust in the air, mingled with the stench of damp soil, as if the Babel Tower around her had crumbled into a parched ruin.

Then came hearing.

Ethereal chants echoed in her ears—now a single voice, now a chorus. Human voices, beastly howls, and the pounding of heartbeats wove into an absurd symphony, bombarding her with feelings of solitude, clamor, grandeur, and death. An He felt, irrationally, that every story of life ended here.

Was this a scene constructed by Gu Xianqing?

To punish her?

An He wasn’t sure.

At the same time, she had no energy to pursue what Wen Yewang had done to her, or where this hazy aura of death came from.

Now, her body felt like a riverbed, her blood carrying some unknown thing surging through her meridians.

It was as if the ocean had rushed through her, the torrent of life, the sun’s flames—and then flowed away, never to return.

She simply sat there quietly.

Feeling… bewildered.

Until someone parted the distant Black Fog with a streak of red, dispelling the deathly haze. Like a flower bursting forth from a hellish crevice, blooming magnificently.

Gu Xianqing had finally arrived. Her face was grim as she surveyed the surroundings, drawing closer to the only lit area.

There, the bound An He sat alone, peering at her through damp strands of hair.

“You lost,” Gu Xianqing said.

An He blinked in slight surprise. She could feel the chants in her ears fading with Gu Xianqing’s arrival, leaving only the thump of her own heartbeat.

Not just that—the decaying scent was driven away by a trace of vitality. Gu Xianqing’s hard-soled boots crushed the entwining vines, which writhed twice before dissipating like smoke.

The atmosphere here was shifting, yet Gu Xianqing offered no explanation. Her first words pursued their bet.

So indifferent—surely this was a scene built by Gu Xianqing!

What did it mean? Punishment? Intimidation? A show of force?

An He twisted her wrists slightly, gritting her teeth, watching Gu Xianqing’s expression with a hint of trepidation.

Tonight’s Gu Xianqing came with ill intent—her eyes icy, her low voice suppressing anger. She clearly still remembered how An He had settled a personal score an hour ago.

The woman was fully geared up too, a pouch added to her belt containing a gun An He had never seen.

Snatched from Lower City? That fast?

Gu Xianqing was already right in front of her, brushing aside the hair on An He’s forehead. Cool fingertips glided over her brow, sending an indescribable shiver: “Still pretending now?”

It looked like it was time to settle accounts.

So petty!

An He stared at the gun and gritted her teeth. She could still move a little, but as Gu Xianqing raised her hand, An He’s leg went numb on one side. Beneath the gentle motion lurked an unyielding threat—

If Gu Xianqing wanted, she could make An He’s body perform any horrific act. Or, true to form, construct a mental prison to shatter An He’s spirit.

This was Gu Xianqing’s domain. She was the sole god controlling everything.

An He understood Gu Xianqing’s intent now. A warning. A punishment. In the dream, An He had no power to resist.

Annoyance surged through her, and in a fit of anger, she said gravely, “Have you ever heard that beating is a sign of affection, scolding is love…”

“Never,” came the merciless interruption.

“Fine.” An He blinked, starting to quibble. “That slap was just for dramatic effect. No personal grudge.”

“Is that so?” Gu Xianqing’s jaw tightened at the insincere excuse, her anger flaring. She cupped An He’s face, her five fingers pressing against the skin of her left cheek—the exact spot An He had struck.

Playing nice now? How convenient…

The more she thought about it, the madder she got.

“Fine, I admit it was personal. Revenge.” An He tried to turn her head away, escaping the threat. This woman isn’t easy to placate tonight.

An He shifted topics: “Where are you right now?”

She knew Gu Xianqing could enter others’ dreams while awake. The woman looked fully equipped, like she’d been stirring up trouble somewhere.

Has the robbery business expanded to First Fortress?

“Don’t change the subject.” Gu Xianqing didn’t reveal her location. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed beside An He’s leg, leaning down to pinch her chin, forcing her to look up.

An He met her gaze and saw Gu Xianqing’s pupils contract slightly. Then, she heard her speak slowly: “Time is precious. I’ll collect on your deception later. Now, honor the bet.”

“Here?” An He struggled a bit. “Not the best setting, is it? My body’s enduring who-knows-what agony out there, and you want me to kiss you?”

What, make her body and mind experience conflicting emotions? Not afraid of splitting her psyche?

“Isn’t it perfect?” Gu Xianqing cupped An He’s cheek again with her cool palm, though her eyes held little amusement.

Perfect how? An He could still hear the muffled heartbeat. Beyond the dream, in this once-bright Test Room, two mad researchers were drawing her blood, stimulating her nerves.

And in this hidden dream, Gu Xianqing demanded intimacy.

Turns out you like it like this.

No morals at all.

An He leaned back desperately, but the cold bed blocked her retreat.

Gu Xianqing’s downward gaze was emotionless, her anger not fully dissipated. Yet that relentless pressure, that teasing proximity hovering over An He…

She spoke softly, in a commanding tone: “Come on, kiss me.”

An He’s heart skipped several beats. The woman said such an embarrassing demand without batting an eye.

She saw Gu Xianqing’s fallen strands brushing her temple, hot breath caressing her skin, sticky and syncing with An He’s quickening breaths. It was an intimate pose, yet An He felt no sincerity from Gu Xianqing.

Does she really need this kiss? An He doubted it. Probably just wants me to admit defeat.

She could sense Gu Xianqing’s genuine anger this time—no playful smile hiding it. Her attempts to act cute hadn’t defused it.

Why?

An He glimpsed the truth in Gu Xianqing’s eyes and brows.

She suddenly realized: Gu Xianqing got angry both times because she was “disobedient.”

First, reading the Church’s Scripture against advice. This time, slapping her off-script. Plus, An He’s bold idea for infiltrating First Fortress had irked her.

All because her actions slipped Gu Xianqing’s control and guidance.

Epiphany. Only now did An He understand—Gu Xianqing didn’t want her acting cute. She wanted submission.

Would submission reassure her?

In other words, was Gu Xianqing afraid of her strength?

Afraid that her betrayal, her lies, meant An He might deceive and harm her later?

So she commanded her, teaching subservience and compromise.

A thrill of insight sparked in An He’s eyes. She stopped leaning back, inching forward toward Gu Xianqing’s parted lips, hovering just before contact: “Ha, you really like controlling me, don’t you.”

“Yes.” Gu Xianqing lowered her gaze, admitting it outright.

Their breaths mingled. An He leaned into her palm, rubbing gently. But those eyes so close burned with fierce combativeness.

Like it? Gu Xianqing wasn’t sure. Strangely, An He’s refusal to yield now made her own heart race. If An He truly became her willing dog… that would be boring.

This little lamb’s got me rattled.

The mobile one held the advantage. Gu Xianqing’s hand slid down, loosely gripping An He’s chin, the skin she’d caressed now feverishly hot, intoxicating.

An He felt Gu Xianqing’s other hand pin her wrist—she’d just raised it to grab her clothes within the limited range, but was caught.

Gu Xianqing was on guard. Her fingers slid over the palm, interlacing tightly, denying escape.

In that moment, An He desperately wanted to define their relationship.

They were so in sync, embracing in hidden wilds and corners multiple times. Yet Gu Xianqing always hid behind that smiling mask.

Not true comrades fighting side by side. The thought intruded uncontrollably, amplifying the discomfort in her body. Something flowed through her blood, souring her chest inexplicably.

The awe from Gu Xianqing’s brilliance, the thrill of their scheming—now they mocked her.

After all their life-and-death struggles, suspicion outweighed trust.

This twisted bond might never allow true hearts to meet.

Fine. Then kiss without emotion.

“Alright.” An He honored the bet. She tilted up gently, foreheads touching, lashes fluttering like feathers. But she didn’t close her eyes. She watched Gu Xianqing’s expression—who would succumb to a fake kiss?

Gu Xianqing didn’t close hers either. Half-lidded eyes betrayed her stare at An He’s lower lip.

“What? Afraid I’ll bite?” An He whispered.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Her voice had lost substance, just disturbed air. The teasing distance itched at her heart, fleeting.

The dream’s discomfort flooded back—some drug at work. An He felt scorching blood surging through her limbs again, pulses thundering louder.

Her mind hyperactive, signals surging like a deathly intoxication amplified in the dream, roaring waves demanding release. But it crested… gently.

Into a kiss.

Silently resolved.

So light.

Warm lips met, soft—not the life-or-death struggle An He imagined. The unfamiliar sensation made them both shiver, electric tingles. Whose breath, whose heartbeat skipped?

The surroundings fell deathly quiet, like Shatterblade Time. They’d forgotten their standoff, frozen.

Only the relentless pulse.

Faster.

Faster.

Just one second.

Then the halted blood roared again. A unstoppable heat and sting flashed through An He’s brain.

What the—? Gu Xianqing playing dirty?!

An He grunted, impulse driving her to bite Gu Xianqing’s lower lip. Squeezed, a sweet tang of blood seeped. Gu Xianqing bit back mercilessly, then shoved her away.

Their eyes met. In that second, lingering infatuation in each other’s gazes?

Must be an illusion.

Then An He fell backward, as if the bed vanished, plummeting into bottomless void.

Weightlessness hit. The dream smeared black like ink. An He looked up, seeing only Gu Xianqing’s panicked eyes and reaching hand.

Her heart skipped. Not Gu Xianqing’s doing.

That was Wen Yewang, that damned knife-stabbing bitch! What the hell did she do to me?!