Wang Ya pinched a Vermilion Bird Burns Evil Talisman and slapped it toward the roots at her feet. Suddenly, without warning, a streak of verdant green chill light whipped through the air and struck her wrist squarely. The chill light came so fast and sudden that Wang Ya only saw a flash of green before her wrist burned with pain. The Vermilion Bird Burns Evil Talisman in her palm dropped to the ground without activating, swallowed by the dense, writhing roots surging from the earth. In the next second, Wang Ya felt countless more chill lights striking her. They were so fast that she was hit the moment she saw them—face, hands, feet, back, waist, all struck. Her face suffered the worst; Wang Ya felt innumerable chill lights pummeling it, the pain making her howl “Ow ow!” Then her mouth stung like pinpricks, and her face burned fiercely. Furious and in agony, she reached for the ancient bronze coin in her pants pocket, only to find her lower body buried in the soil. Dozens more thumb-thick roots then wrapped around her wrists, binding her tightly. Dense roots erupted from the earth, lashing relentlessly at her face and body. The pain was unbearable, drawing one agonized cry after another from her. She was wrapped head to toe in roots, struggling futilely, feeling herself sinking rapidly. Soon even her mouth was stuffed with roots, making breathing difficult—she couldn’t cry out anymore.
Was the Flower Demon going to drag her underground, bury her alive, and turn her into flower fertilizer?
Her chest was squeezed so tightly she could barely breathe. Wang Ya even felt her already modest breasts flattened, her nipples throbbing with intense pain as if squeezed into the flesh. A surge of rage boiled up inside her: You damn demon flower, what are you squeezing! Let go of my tits, or we’re not done! She bit down hard on the mud-stinking root shoved into her mouth. A stream of qi rose from her dantian, permeating her meridians. Then the burning pain from before returned, her head aching as if it would explode. She thrashed desperately. She felt as if she were combusting—bones, meridians, organs, even skin all aflame. The pain drove her to claw and struggle, her vision blacking out in waves. Suddenly, blinding red light exploded before her eyes—blood-red light! She saw powerful qi surges roiling. In a daze, she even glimpsed the missing Other Shore Demon Flower manifesting. The flower flashed once and vanished again, plunging the surroundings into darkness. That light, floating sensation returned, so light she felt like a feather blown into the sky. She stared blankly at the air above—blood-red everywhere, Other Shore Flower leaves drifting through the sky, filling the heavens.
“Wang Ya…”
“Wang Ya…”
“Yaya…”
A familiar voice drifted into her ears.
“Hahahaha…” A mad laugh entered her ears. It wasn’t Old Tang’s—his voice wasn’t this thin. Zhang Qingshui? No. Zheng Yanxia? No. The mad laughter suddenly sounded delighted, full of joy, growing clearer, more distinct, closer—as if its owner was rapidly approaching.
Wang Ya suddenly felt intense pain at her philtrum, sharp as nails digging in. At the same time, she saw a massive green hand breaking through the crimson sky, reaching for her. The hand was slick green and enormous, at least three or four meters long. It casually scooped her up and crushed her to death.
“Wang Ya…”
“Wu… Yaya, what’s wrong with you…”
Was that her dad crying? Wang Ya saw the giant palm extending toward her face, but it suddenly blurred. Her dad’s voice grew clearer, the crimson sky rapidly fading. She heard Huang Qi shouting “Wang Ya…”, Old Tang calling her too. Light gradually returned to her vision—the bright beam of a flashlight. Then Zhang Qingshui’s face appeared before her.
Old Tang’s voice rang in her ears: “She’s awake, she’s awake!”
Wang Ya felt her philtrum throbbing with pain and saw Zhang Qingshui slowly withdrawing her hand. Wang Ya cried, “Zhang Qingshui, you pinched me?”
Zhang Qingshui yanked her hand back, and Wang Ya thudded heavily to the ground, grunting in pain and struggling for breath for a long while. Eventually, she climbed up and found pitch blackness around them, lit only by the white beam from a tiny flashlight in Old Tang’s hand. Wang Ya eyed the mini phone-sized flashlight—it didn’t seem like something a big guy like Old Tang would carry. As for Zheng Yanxia, who’d ever seen a blind person carry a flashlight? Maybe it was Zhang Qingshui’s? She turned to look at Zhang Qingshui and found her standing, peering into the darkness. Sensing the gaze, Zhang Qingshui suddenly turned back, their eyes meeting. She quickly glanced away, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward—she smiled!
Wang Ya admitted Zhang Qingshui looked good when she smiled, but why did it seem so weird? Wang Ya huffed irritably, “Zhang Qingshui, pinching my philtrum is that funny?”
Old Tang shone the flashlight into Wang Ya’s eyes and said, “Good, she’s fine.” He looked at her strangely and said, “You don’t remember what happened just now?”
Wang Ya noticed Old Tang staring at her as if her face had a flower on it. She turned to Wang Cheng’an and saw him pouting at her, fists clenched like he wanted to fight someone. Wang Ya asked, “Dad, is there something on my face?”
Wang Cheng’an huffed angrily, “Yaya, tell Daddy who hit you. I’ll beat them into a pig head too!”
What does ‘too’ mean? Wang Ya suddenly felt something wrong—her cheeks burned fiercely! She touched her face with both hands and found it no longer smooth and palm-sized, but swollen hugely. Touching it made her whole body shudder with pain! Rage surged to her chest. She jumped up and bellowed, “Damn it, Other Shore Demon Flower, this isn’t over between us!” Damn! Her chest hurt too, nipples throbbing! Wang Ya instinctively wanted to rub them but glanced at the two “uncles” before her and forcibly stopped, standing there on the verge of tears.
Seeing tears welling in Wang Ya’s eyes, Wang Cheng’an hurriedly cooed, “Yaya don’t cry, Daddy will hit them back for you. Even if you’re swollen like a pig head, you’re not a pig. If anyone calls you Er Zhu, I’ll beat them into an Er Zhu too.”
Wang Ya glared at Wang Cheng’an through gritted teeth, her face—covered in blood marks, bruises, and swelling—twisted ferociously. What enraged her most was that everyone else’s faces were fine, no injuries on anyone but her. Her face was so swollen she couldn’t be seen in public. She glanced at her arms—every exposed bit of skin was marred. Though she hadn’t checked under her clothes, she knew her body was probably covered in wounds too! Wang Ya trembled all over! Other Shore Demon Flower, what grudge do you have against me? Even if there is one, the Feng Family’s direct bloodline is right here—Cheng An. And I at least released you from the scroll. Why only beat me? What the hell?! Pain stabbed from the two fragile little points on her chest. Furious and aching, she truly wanted to burn that damn demon flower hiding in some corner! As a woman, face and chest were most important—and both ruined by this demon flower! I admit I’m pretty and good-looking, but there’s Zhang Qingshui right next to me—big tits, perky ass, face on par with mine. Why not her? And Huang Qi, soft and cute, everything a woman should have. Why not go for Huang Qi? Am I Wang Ya that hated—hated by people, ghosts, and demons alike? Unable to stomach it, Wang Ya bellowed hatefully, “You damn demon flower, come out here!” Her voice rang loud, but no echo returned, nor any sign of the demon flower.
