Chapter 9: Shattered His Something

Just as the man tumbled to the ground with a series of yelps, the woman on the bed rolled over with fluid grace. Her slender fingers, though delicate, gripped his pulse point with immense strength.

A twist, a dodge, and a sudden, violent burst of power from her wrist...

*Crack...*

The crisp sound of a bone snapping rang out, followed immediately by the man's agonized scream.

"Feng Laowu, you dare break my hand..."

"Even with a broken hand, you still have the strength to talk to me. You truly are quite the man..." Feng Qingcheng let out a sudden, cold laugh. Her gaze fell upon his seat of lust, and a flash of murderous intent rose at the corners of her lips. "But to dare harbor impure thoughts toward me, Feng Qingcheng—that is your misfortune..."

Her toes flickered, stepping between the man's legs. Before he could even fully regain his senses, she had accurately and ruthlessly stomped down upon the source of his evil.

"Ah...!"

Another heart-wrenching scream pierced her ears. Feng Qingcheng curled her lips in a disdainful sneer. "With just you, you thought you could take advantage of me?"

Ignoring the man before her, who was now hunched like a shrimp and screaming incessantly, she slowly clapped her hands and stood up.

Although her body was still weak, perhaps due to having slept, she had managed to recover some of her physical strength.

As her gaze swept the room, Feng Qingcheng's eyes suddenly locked onto a copper basin sitting atop a wooden rack in the distance. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward it with hesitant steps.

Her figure was so provocative; she only wondered if her face was equally breathtaking. Otherwise, she wouldn't have ended up with this lecher in front of her.

There was no water in the copper basin, but when her disheveled face was reflected in the rough bottom of the basin, she was instantly stunned into place.

Ink-black hair, a pale complexion... as expected, this face was decidedly not the face she remembered.

What made her want to vomit blood even more, however, was whether this could even be called a face.

With puffy lower eyelids, short thick eyebrows, and a rugged, martial appearance, the corner of her right eye drooped so low it was almost a slit, while her left eye slanted upward in a wide, angry glare. The corner of her mouth sagged to the right, with saliva uncontrollably trickling down her chin. While her only satisfactory feature—a high, perfect nose—stood out like a crane among chickens, it only served to make the whole look even more grotesque.

*Holy crap, what is this?*

Even if they had given her a new body, even if they wouldn't grant her peerless beauty, at the very least, her features should have been symmetrical, right?

How did they end up with such a crooked, lopsided appearance?

No wonder that man dared to mock her just now. It turned out that when he had forced himself on her, he was actually feeling pity and compassion for her.

And she hadn't even thanked him; she had gone straight to crippling him with a kick. She had truly been ungrateful.

With this face of hers, she feared that even if she begged another man to force himself on her, no one would want to.

If she had known it would be like this, she might as well have just submitted to him earlier.

She instantly felt a throbbing ache, and a nameless, wicked fire wandered through her heart, seemingly tempting her to go out and pounce on a man.

Her eyes shifted, slowly landing on the man lying motionless on the ground, the one whose "something" she had just crushed with a single kick.

He seemed to have said something earlier about this body being affected by some kind of aphrodisiac and sedative.

Even though this was a different world, the effects of certain things should still be the same.