Chapter 7: Chapter 6: Wolf's Den

“Come back to my manor with me, and I’ll find someone to help you detoxify. How does that sound?” Although his tone was one of consultation, the man showed absolutely no intention of negotiating.

He turned around abruptly, acting as if Feng Feixuan wouldn't kill him even if he ate her alive. Completely ignoring the short blade in his back, he seized the nearby Feng Feixuan and pulled her into his embrace.

“What are you doing?” This broken, weakened body, which was already pushed to its absolute limit, caused Feng Feixuan's reaction to lag by half a beat. In the blink of an eye, she found herself held in a warm embrace, her neck gripped tightly by someone.

She struggled violently, striking at the man's vital points with ruthless precision, but having long been prepared, he easily dodged her attacks. His speed was so great that, with Feng Feixuan's current vision, she couldn't see his movements clearly at all.

“Truly a fiery beauty.” With one hand, the man pinned Feng Feixuan's restless hands behind her back, while his other fair, well-proportioned hand shamelessly brushed against her pale cheek. He smiled flirtatiously, “The texture is quite nice, too.”

“Go to hell...” Feng Feixuan was incensed. She lifted her head and glared sharply at this man who looked like a demon. She bared her teeth, wishing she could bite him to pieces.

Yes, a demon. If his profile's smile just now was cunning and evil, then at this moment, his narrow phoenix eyes were half-lidded. The lines, as clear as if drawn with eyeliner, added a profound sense of charm to his gaze. With a high bridge of the nose and warm, red lips, his opening and closing mouth held a seductive quality, exuding an air of languidness.

His disheveled clothing revealed perfect collarbones, and his lean yet well-defined chest flickered in and out of view, inviting speculation. If he wasn't a demon, what else could he be?

Yesterday, Feng Feixuan had accidentally caught a glimpse of her own face in a mirror, and its beauty had shocked her for a long time. Even just now, when she woke up in the lake, she had narcissistically checked her reflection in the water while washing the filth from her face. She believed her face was already very beautiful, but she hadn't expected that in front of this man, it would be nothing more than mud.

“What is it, little beauty? Are you looking for a marriage proposal?” The man stared leisurely at Feng Feixuan's dazed eyes. Within those phoenix eyes, which had been somewhat misty just a moment ago, a trace of lustful longing had somehow dyed its way in.

“Pah, you beast!” Feng Feixuan was consumed by rage. Her only mobile limbs—her feet—quickly rose, and she struck down at the man's head with resentment. This kick used almost all her strength; its speed, ferocity, and accuracy were actually no inferior to those of a master with profound internal strength.

However, the man still caught her leg with a single hand without the slightest effort. A powerful current of air swirled around her, nearly swallowing her whole. At this moment, Feng Feixuan realized just how profound his cultivation was. She had to admit that the short blade aimed at his heart just now had posed no threat to him at all.

The man raised an eyebrow, a sudden flash of sinister coldness appearing in his phoenix eyes. “Have you played enough? If you don't want to die, obediently follow me back to my manor. Considering you still have a bit of charm, I'll find a doctor to detoxify you. If you continue to lose your temper, I'm afraid you'll die of exhaustion before we even reach the capital.”

Feng Feixuan clenched her teeth and closed her eyes unwillingly. If you can't win, accept your fate; either die or wait for another chance to counterattack. This was the survival rule of a soldier on the battlefield.

Moreover, she was already physically and mentally exhausted. If she grew more angry, she feared the Worrygrass in her body would consume her. Ha! Out of the tiger's den and into the wolf's lair—truly bad luck. Even if she resisted to the death now, it would be futile. Her only course of action was to follow this demonic man back to the capital, neutralize the poison in her body, and then look for an opportunity to escape.

As for whether the man truly intended to save her, who he was, and what his motives were—she would plan accordingly once she had rested enough.

And so, without any other distractions, Feng Feixuan fell asleep in the man's arms.

Her skin was like ice and jade; even without makeup, her complexion was as vibrant as morning clouds reflecting on snow. The oversized black clothing covered her body, yet it could not hide the superficial wounds covering her. The contrast of red and white, tender and dripping, was heart-stirring. Looking at her now, the beauty in his arms slept peacefully with long, elegant brows, looking so moving and delicate that he couldn't help but feel an instinctive urge to draw close and taste her sweetness.

“Master, let Shu Niang bandage your wounds.” The woman huddling in the corner finally found her courage, though she did not understand why the man would so easily forgive the female thief who had injured him, nor why he would look so dazed by this disheveled woman who was barely recognizable.

The man seemed to startle. Coming back to his senses, he said languidly, “It matters not. Help her clean her wounds first.”

Lifting the woman's slender, fair hands, the wounds were jagged and overlapping, clearly having been repeatedly hooked and slashed by something. They had been soaked in water, leaving no trace of blood, only flesh that had been turned inside out and turned white, looking as if the bone were visible. Her right thumb was wrapped in a piece of black cloth, appearing to be severely injured.

What kind of woman was this, and what kind of background and story did she possess? These wounds and the poison seemed as if she had crawled out from the gates of hell.

Nearby was the famous Death Mountain, Mount Duanhu. Without a doubt, she had escaped from there. With only agile movements but no support from internal strength, how on earth had she managed it?

The man's eyes were deep as he gazed at the distant mountains; as sharp as he was, he seemed to sense an unusual conspiracy. And this woman was the key to it.

“Yes.” Shu Niang responded. She took out high-quality golden sore medicine and gauze prepared for the journey from a hidden compartment behind her. She first carefully cleaned the wounds on Feng Feixuan's hands before sprinkling a layer of medicinal powder over them.

“Shh...” Perhaps due to the pain, the sleeping Feng Feixuan furrowed her brows and suddenly snapped her eyes open. There was not a hint of sleepiness in her beautiful eyes; instead, they were sharp and cold, startling the unprepared Shu Niang.

The man, who had been feigning sleep, said nonchalantly, “Don't panic. I'm just having Shu Niang bandage your wounds. Otherwise, they will become inflamed and leave scars. Such beautiful hands would be ruined.”

Hearing the man's words, Feng Feixuan saw that the wounds on her palms had indeed been cleaned. The medicinal powder that had been sprinkled was only just beginning to sting, and as it was slowly absorbed, the wounds seemed less gruesome and painful. Furthermore, the ring wrapped around her finger did not feel hot, which seemed to prove there was no danger.

Seeing this, Feng Feixuan relaxed and said to Shu Niang, “Thanks.” Feng Feixuan was not a cold-blooded or heartless person; she naturally would not repay kindness with enmity toward those who helped her.

Shu Niang shook her head gently, thinking she had been given permission, and stepped forward to continue helping Feng Feixuan unwrap the black cloth on her thumb, intending to clean this final and most serious wound.

But unexpectedly, as Feng Feixuan's expression softened, her hands quickly retracted, and she refused flatly, “There is nothing wrong here. No need for medicine.”

She had not yet figured out what was going on with the ring on her finger and did not want anyone to discover its uniqueness.