240: Chapter 240 When did I ever say I was a good person?

The afternoon of the next day, Imperial City dungeon.

Hun Feng had come again.

Footsteps sounded on the stone stairs, unhurried and steady. The soles of his boots landed on the steps carved from volcanic rock, each step possessing a fixed rhythm.

Xue Wei sat on the stone bed, her back against the wall. Upon hearing these footsteps, she opened her eyes.

Having been locked up for over a month, she could already distinguish every type of footstep in the dungeon—the heavy tread of the guards, the light patter of the maid delivering food, and the footsteps of Hun Feng, which were neither light nor heavy but landed on the exact same beat every time.

The iron door pushed open, and Hun Feng walked in.

Today, he held something extra in his hand—a black brocade box the size of a palm. The lid was closed, making it impossible to see what was inside.

He waved his hand to dismiss the guards, then dragged a chair to the center of the cell and sat down, facing Xue Wei on the stone bed.

"Darling Wei Wei, it seems you are in good spirits today."

He crossed his legs and rested the brocade box on his knee.

Xue Wei remained leaning against the wall, not moving. Her gaze lingered on the brocade box for a moment before shifting back to Hun Feng's face. "Hall Master, you have been coming to the dungeon for two days in a row; as a prisoner, I am starting to feel embarrassed. What is it? Have you come up with some new tricks today?"

"I wouldn't call them tricks."

Hun Feng patted the brocade box on his knee, his tone as casual as if he were chatting about daily life. "I'm just here to give you one last chance. How have you considered the matter of abandoning the darkness for the light?"

"Consider?"

Xue Wei tilted her head, her blood-red hair sliding off her shoulder. "Hall Master, you asked yesterday, and you ask again today. I said I needed to consider it, and only one night has passed—"

"Hey! One night is long enough."

Hun Feng interrupted her, a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth—an expression different from yesterday, containing something extra that Xue Wei couldn't quite name, only feeling a slight chill run down her spine. "My patience is limited. Give me a definitive answer today. Are you joining or not?"

Xue Wei narrowed her eyes.

She was a smart person, and smart people have very accurate intuition regarding danger.

Hun Feng's tone today was different from yesterday, as was his posture—yesterday he had leaned against the doorframe to banter with her, but today his posture while sitting in the chair was exactly like a hunter watching his prey.

"That's quite a way to put it, Hall Master."

She remained calm on the surface, her voice still carrying a lazy, teasing tone. "What if I don't join? What else can you do to me? Kill me?"

"You are so beautiful! Such a pretty face! It truly makes one feel pity! It would be such a pity to kill you."

Hun Feng slowly opened the black brocade box on his knee.

The moment the lid was lifted, a strange, sweet fragrance permeated the air.

Inside the box lay a black pill, the size of a longan, its surface smooth as a mirror, glistening with a cold, eerie sheen.

The scent was sweet at first, but upon inhaling it, it transformed into a bone-chilling coldness that burrowed straight into the dantian.

Xue Wei's gaze was pinned to the pill, her pupils slightly constricted—she did not recognize this medicinal pill, but the aura was a fluctuation of Spirit Qi, extremely strong, extremely domineering, and it carried a corrosiveness that made even her, a Spirit Grade Heavenly Sovereign of the Evil Race, feel her hair stand on end.

"What is this?"

"A good thing."

Hun Feng picked up the black pill between two fingers, slowly rotating it at his fingertips. The eerie light on the surface of the pill traced cold, sharp arcs in the dim cell. "It took me three months to refine this."

"I haven't named it yet, but its effect is simple—once taken, the medicinal power penetrates the sea of consciousness within half an hour, erasing all autonomous consciousness."

"From then on, if I tell you to go east, you won't go west; if I tell you to kill, you won't do anything else."

"It is cleaner than puppet arts and more thorough than a soul contract."

"As for the only side effect—"

He paused, the smile at the corner of his mouth deepening. "It's that while the person is still alive and the soul is still there, 'you' are gone. There will only be a completely obedient shell left."

The smile on Xue Wei's face stiffened for a moment.

She stared into Hun Feng's eyes, trying to find any trace of posturing.

She looked for one breath, two breaths—she found nothing.

Hun Feng's gaze was calm and focused, like a physician explaining a surgical procedure to a patient—no exaggeration, no threats, just stating facts.

"Hall Master," Xue Wei's voice tightened involuntarily, but she still maintained that cynical smile on her face. "You are the dignified Hall Master of the Spirit Hall and the Sixth Elder of the Great Thousand Palace; using such low-down methods, wouldn't it look bad if it got out?"

"If it got out?"

Hun Feng seemed to have heard something amusing and laughed softly. "Little Wei Wei, have you forgotten one thing?"

He stood up, holding the pill in his hand, and walked step by step toward the stone bed.

His shadow was stretched long and heavy in the dim light of the lava crystals, enveloping Xue Wei completely.

"When did I ever say I was a good person?"

As his voice fell, an invisible force of the Law of Space suddenly pressed down.

Xue Wei felt her limbs firmly restrained by an irresistible force, as if an invisible hand were pressing her against the wall, making her unable to even lift a finger.

Her pupils constricted sharply. She wanted to mobilize the remaining demonic energy in her body to struggle, but her dantian was sealed tight, not a single trace of Spirit Qi could leak out.

Hun Feng stood before her, his left hand pressing down in the air; the Law of Space fixed Xue Wei's head against the wall.

His right hand held the black pill between two fingers, slowly bringing it closer to her lips.

The eerie light on the surface of the pill cast a small, cold reflection against her deep purple lips.

"Bastard! Stop!"

Xue Wei finally couldn't hold it together anymore.

She turned her head, trying to avoid that hand, but the Law of Space held her completely immobile.

The pill was only three inches from her lips, and that sweet scent drilled into her nasal cavity, making the back of her head numb.

She had seen the methods used within the Evil Race to deal with traitors—extracting souls and refining spirits, ten thousand demons devouring the heart—but none of them made her as terrified as this pill.

Death is not terrible; what is terrible is not even being able to be "yourself" anymore.

"You can't do this! You are the Sixth Elder of the Great Thousand Palace; you are a righteous person—if you do this and it gets out, the Great Thousand Palace won't let you off!"

"Righteous?"

Hun Feng's hand stopped for a moment. He looked down at her, his expression carrying a trace of genuine confusion. "Who told you that an Elder of the Great Thousand Palace must be righteous?"

"Besides, if I erase your autonomous consciousness, who can prove you didn't join the Spirit Hall voluntarily?"

"Your body will stand obediently behind me, it will smile, it will speak, it will kill for me, heh heh! It might even be able to do other things."

"Outsiders will only see Miss Xue Wei abandoning the darkness for the light, understanding the great righteousness."

"As for whether your soul is still there—who would be able to tell?"

Xue Wei felt cold all over.

She had seen ruthless people, but she had never seen anyone who could make ruthlessness sound so justified.

The black pill came an inch closer.

"I'll give you three breaths."

Hun Feng's tone suddenly became flat, as if announcing an unchangeable rule. "One, open your mouth and take the medicine. Two, nod and agree to join the Spirit Hall. Three—"

"I agree!"

Xue Wei practically roared it out.

Her voice reverberated in the narrow cell, shaking the lava crystals on the walls until they trembled slightly.

She gasped for air, her long blood-red hair sticking messily to her cheeks. In those deep purple eyes, the cunning ease from before was finally gone, leaving only a thin layer of terror that she did not want anyone to see.

"Bastard, stop—I'll join your Spirit Hall!"

Hun Feng's hand stopped.

The black pill stopped just before Xue Wei's lower lip, another half-inch forward and it would have touched her skin.

He stared into Xue Wei's eyes for two breaths, confirming that the fear in her gaze was not faked, and then the corner of his mouth curled up slightly.

"You should have said so sooner."

He withdrew his right hand but did not immediately lift the spatial restraint.

His left index finger traced a few runes in the air, and as the Spirit light flashed, it condensed into a complex soul mark—this was the soul brand that all core members of the Spirit Hall had to be marked with; it was both a restraint and a mark of identity.

The patterns in the mark fused with Hun Feng's Law of Space and the origin aura of the Heaven-Slaying Flame. Once branded, it would be bound to the soul and could not be erased by external forces.

He pinched the mark between two fingers and pressed it into Xue Wei's forehead. The Spirit light flashed and vanished as the brand merged into her sea of consciousness.

Xue Wei shuddered.

She felt a very faint restraining force settle deep within her soul. It didn't hurt or itch, but her lifeline was now in the hands of the person before her.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, her gaze was complex.

"Are you satisfied now?"

"Satisfied."

Hun Feng lifted the spatial restraint, threw the black pill into his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed it.

Xue Wei was stunned.

"You—"

"Chocolate bean."

Hun Feng licked his lips. "It's sweet. Do you want one too?"

Xue Wei's complexion turned from pale to livid, and then to an angry flush within a mere three breaths. She stood up abruptly, raised her hand to point at Hun Feng's nose, her fingertip trembling for a long time: "You tricked me?!"

"Correct."

"That pill wasn't some poison to erase consciousness at all?"

"Chocolate beans. My daughter loved eating these when she was little. Grabbed them from the kitchen." Hun Feng spread his hands, his expression looking very innocent. "But don't feel like you've been taken advantage of. That soul imprint from just now was real; you are indeed a member of the Spirit Hall now. Welcome aboard."

Xue Wei took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, her chest heaving violently several times, her lips moving as if she were silently greeting Hun Feng's ancestors for eighteen generations. Then she opened her eyes and gave Hun Feng a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Hun Feng. You are shameless."

"I know." Hun Feng turned and walked out of the cell, his tone as light as if he had just completed a profitable deal. "Rest well today. Tomorrow, Hun Qian will come to coordinate with you. You can report the intelligence on the Evil Race slowly; there's no rush. By the way, if you want to eat that chocolate bean, there are more in the kitchen."

A stone pillow flew out from the cell, slamming into the iron door behind him with a dull, loud thud. Hun Feng didn't look back, but the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened slightly.

When he walked out of the dungeon, Hun Qian was waiting at the end of the corridor. He was holding a stack of rosters and went up to meet Hun Feng when he saw him come out.

"Hall Master, about Xue Wei—"

"It's settled. Go coordinate with her personally tomorrow. First ask her about the distribution of the Evil Race's strongholds in the Chaotic Demon Sea area; take your time with the rest. Be polite; she's one of us now."

Hun Qian nodded and made a note of it. He hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth to ask: "Hall Master, what did you say to her in the dungeon just now? Your subordinate heard the sound of things being smashed inside."

"Nothing. Just played a joke on her."

Hun Feng patted Hun Qian's shoulder and walked past him. Hun Qian stood where he was, watching his Hall Master's back disappear at the end of the stone steps. For some reason, he always felt that the scale of that joke might not have been very small.

The same evening, Sword Domain.

In the east of the Great Thousand World, Sword Mountain Continent.

This continent had no plains, no basins, and not even decent hills. The entire continent was just a boundless stone mountain, the body of which presented a peculiar iron-gray color. For hundreds of millions of years, it had been scoured by sword intent, leaving it angular and sharp; every ridge was like a drawn sword lying between heaven and earth.

The edge of the land was not a beach or coastline, but a ten-thousand-foot cliff plunging straight into the sea of clouds. The air was filled with a thin but sharp metallic scent—that was not real metal, but the remnants of sword intent left by countless sword cultivators practicing here for tens of thousands of years. If a mortal took a breath, their lungs would sting as if pricked by fine needles; if a sword cultivator took a breath, they could gain insights into the sword dao left by predecessors.

The highest peak was called Sword Abyss Peak, reaching ten thousand feet high, its summit shrouded year-round in clouds and mist condensed from sword intent. Deep within the clouds and mist, one could vaguely see countless sword qi shuttling back and forth like swimming fish, occasionally colliding and emitting crisp sounds of metal clashing.

The Green-Shirt Sword Saint's thatched cottage was built on a natural stone terrace on the west side of the peak. Although it was called a thatched cottage, it was actually just a few small huts built with bluestones from Sword Mountain, with roofs covered in a layer of dry thatch, an old pine tree in front of the door, and a stone table with two stone stools under the pine. The mountain wind howled, blowing the thatch until it rustled; apart from that, there was no other sound.

The Green-Shirt Sword Saint stood at the edge of the stone terrace, his green shirt fluttering, his silver hair motionless in the wind.

Xiao Xiao stood three steps behind him, with two swords on her back, her fiery red immortal-style dress pressed tightly against her body by the mountain wind. She had not said a word since the moment she set foot on the Sword Mountain Continent—not because of fear, but because the impact this place had on her was too great. She had seen the rolling volcanoes of the Burning Heaven Mountain Range and the raging waves of the Chaotic Demon Sea, but the scene in the Sword Domain was completely different. Every stone here carried sword intent, and every gust of wind felt as if it had been sliced by a sword. She looked down at the edge of the stone terrace beneath her feet—the cliff dropped straight down, with clouds and mist surging, unable to see the bottom.

"Scared?" The Green-Shirt Sword Saint did not look back.

"No." Xiao Xiao lifted her chin, "Just feel that this place—is a bit cold."

"The sword dao is cold by nature." The Green-Shirt Sword Saint turned around, his gaze falling on the faint, flickering black fire seed in her dantian. "How long will it take for you to refine the thing your father gave you?"

"I already refined one-third of it on the road." Xiao Xiao said, "The rest—Dad said to take it slow, can't rush."

"He knows." The Green-Shirt Sword Saint nodded slightly, his gaze shifting from her dantian back to her face, "From now on, put away your identity as the Young Master of the Spirit Hall. On this mountain, you only have one identity—my disciple. Wake up at the Hour of the Rabbit in the morning to practice sword, meditate at the Hour of the Horse, and spar with me at the Hour of the Monkey. If you don't get up at the Hour of the Rabbit, go to the Sword Abyss to face the wall for an hour. If you slack off during sword practice, add two hours of practice. Do you understand?"

"Understood." Xiao Xiao stood straight.

"Settle in for today first." The Green-Shirt Sword Saint pointed to a smaller stone hut next to the thatched cottage, "That is your living quarters. See you at the Sword Practice Terrace at the Hour of the Rabbit tomorrow."

After speaking, he turned and walked into the thatched cottage, the bamboo door closing gently, and there was no more sound.

Xiao Xiao stood alone on the stone terrace. The mountain wind blew her skirt, making it roll incessantly, and the crisp sound of sword qi colliding came from the distant Sword Abyss sea of clouds, like countless wind chimes swaying in the valley. She looked around—a thatched cottage, a stone hut, an old pine, a stone table. There wasn't even anyone to talk to. From childhood to now, there had never been a lack of sounds around her: her mother's reprimands, her father's laughter and scolding, the noise of her younger sisters, the shouts of the disciples training on the square of the Imperial City. But here, there was only the sound of the wind and the sword qi.

She walked into her stone hut. The furnishings inside were extremely simple: a stone bed, a stone table, an oil lamp, and a small stone stove in the corner. A thin straw mat was spread on the stone bed, and a thin gray cloth quilt was folded on the mat. She stood at the door, stunned for a long time, then walked in, took the two swords off her back, placed them on the stone table, and sat on the edge of the stone bed.

A slight warmth came from the black fire seed in her dantian. She looked down at her dantian, and even through her clothes, she could vaguely feel the pulse of that sliver of child fire—like a tiny heart, beating unhurriedly. She reached out and pressed on the position of her dantian, her palm able to feel that familiar temperature, like the hand her father had patted on the back of her head when she left home.

Outside the window, the night in the Sword Domain slowly descended. The night here was much quieter than in the Imperial City; there was no roar of volcanic eruptions, no shouts of disciples' night training, not even the sound of insects. There was only the low whimpering of the mountain wind blowing through the pine branches, as if someone were plucking a very thin string from a very, very far place. The starry sky overhead was much brighter than in the Imperial City, with the Milky Way crossing the horizon, dense stars crowded together as if someone had scattered a handful of crushed diamonds on black velvet. A meteor streaked across the zenith, dragging a very thin silver trail, disappearing in an instant.

Xiao Xiao turned over and wrapped the quilt tighter. The quilt was a bit chilly from the mountain wind, and wrapped around her, it wasn't as soft as the cotton quilts in the Imperial City, but it wasn't uncomfortable either. The fire seed continued to radiate heat in her dantian, dispersing the cold air that had invaded her body little by little.

"Hour of the Rabbit." She muttered to the stone wall and closed her eyes.

Imperial City.

Hun Feng stood alone in front of the study window, holding the brocade box of chocolate beans brought back from the dungeon. Outside the window, the volcanic group of the Burning Heaven Mountain Range was spitting out dark red magma in the night, reflecting half the sky into a dark red color. In the distance, on the square of the Imperial City, there were still disciples in night training, and the crisp sound of weapons colliding and the rhythmic shouts drifted up with the night wind, vaguely audible.

He stood for a long time before putting the brocade box on the bookshelf.

The next day at the Hour of the Rabbit, before the sky was fully bright, the sound of breaking through the air had already sounded on the Sword Practice Terrace of Sword Abyss Peak. The Green-Shirt Sword Saint stood under the old pine, watching the fiery red figure in the terrace waving a wooden sword over and over again. Xiao Xiao's sword stance still carried the fierce and violent style of the blood abyss sword, but between the ten-thousand-fathom cliffs of the Sword Domain, that fierce violence was being polished bit by bit.

She was not late. She even arrived a quarter of an hour earlier than the Hour of the Rabbit.

The Green-Shirt Sword Saint looked at the girl's back, a faint arc flashing across the corner of his mouth. It was fleeting.