By the time Mr. Yi arrived at Anzhi Courtyard, Wang Sandong had just finished a session of practicing the Huitian manual.
She had assumed Mr. Yi would be too busy treating her father, Wang Zhongyi, to visit her courtyard today.
However, Mr. Yi was not alone; Wang Sandong’s Second Uncle, Wang Zhongli, accompanied him.
Seeing the gentle, kind smile on Wang Zhongli’s face, a single phrase immediately sprang to Sandong’s mind: ‘He comes bearing ill intent.’
Recalling Mr. Yi’s meaningful gaze from before, his current solemn expression, and the sudden appearance of her Second Uncle, Sandong sensed a flicker of danger.
A moment later, Mr. Yi withdrew his hand from her pulse.
Sandong asked jokingly, “Sir, how many days do I have left to live?”
Mr. Yi sighed, hesitating for a long moment before answering, “Your pulse is even weaker than before.”
“Oh, then it seems I really don’t have much time left.” Sandong spoke with a smile, showing not a hint of sorrow despite her impending death. She even teased, “It looks like I should start writing my will.”
Mr. Yi’s eyes dimmed at her words, and he remained silent.
“Heh…”
Wang Zhongli chuckled.
“To be so indifferent to life and death, my nephew is truly a person of character.”
He then pulled back his smile, his face clouding with worry as he sighed.
“Your father is the same. He never cared much for life or death. He often said that if one lives without regrets, one can die without fear. Then you were born, and he lost that carefree spirit. I know him well; he’s afraid that if he dies, you’ll be bullied by others.”
Sandong suspected that her uncle’s “ill intent” was related to her father.
“Sigh, your father loves you most of all,” Wang Zhongli remarked emotionally.
“Even your elder brother and sister have to take a back seat.”
Sandong didn’t want to hear any more of his rambling.
In her weakened state, she had no patience for nonsense.
“Second Uncle,” she interrupted, “how exactly is my father doing? Just tell me straight.”
Wang Zhongli stopped beating around the bush.
“Your father’s meridians are fouled and must be cleansed if he is to survive. However, cleansing meridians is no simple task. The risk is immense, even greater than a heart transplant. One wrong move and his meridians will be destroyed beyond the help of the gods. Even with Mr. Yi’s skill, there is no guarantee of success.”
Sandong remained silent, waiting for the catch.
Seeing her reaction, Wang Zhongli continued, “Someone suggested using ‘Rootless Blood’ to perform the cleansing. It would minimize the risk. Furthermore, because Rootless Blood lacks the ‘obstruction’ of a Spiritual Root, it can more easily absorb the Demonic Qi clinging to the meridians.”
Sandong froze.
For a brief, hazy moment, she felt as if she had returned to that purgatory-like day 16 years ago.
She had thought such a thing would never happen again.
Heh…
Sandong actually let out a short laugh.
“This ‘Rootless Blood’… is it my blood?”
“Yes.”
“Will it kill me?”
“It involves drawing the Demonic Qi from your father’s body into your own,” Wang Zhongli replied.
“You are already weak. If the Demonic Qi hits your system…”
He looked at Sandong’s pale, handsome face with a flash of hesitation, but he forced himself to continue.
“You might… die.”
‘Will I die?’
Sandong doubted it.
There was already Demonic Qi inside her.
“Absorbing” the Demonic Qi from Wang Zhongyi’s meridians would be more like devouring it.
There shouldn’t be any life-threatening danger.
“A life for a life.”
Sandong’s expression remained calm as she smiled again.
“Well, I’m dying anyway. I might as well make use of myself. It can be considered a final act of filial piety to repay him for raising me, right?”
Wang Zhongli was speechless.
“I didn’t expect a waste like me to have this kind of value.”
Sandong continued to smile.
Recalling Wang Zhongli’s words, he had said “someone” suggested it.
Who was that “someone”?
It had to be the old butler.
‘It’s him again. Just like back then. What a loyal servant.’
“Very well,” Sandong said.
Wang Zhongli frowned deeply, looking at Sandong as he sighed.
“Nephew, this method is indeed somewhat improper. Your mother is also against it, saying that if your father wakes up and learns the truth, he will be furious. However…”
“There’s no need to explain.”
Sandong cut him off.
“Is it urgent? If not… I have a girl I like at Fengyue Tower. I’d like to see her one last time.”
Although she guessed that absorbing the Demonic Qi wouldn’t kill her, Sandong decided to consult Yuan Di just to be safe.
If it really wasn’t fatal…
Even though he had taken her Spiritual Root, he was still her biological father and had treated her quite well over the years.
But if it would kill her…
She wondered if Yuan Di would be willing to help her escape.
Wang Zhongli looked at Mr. Yi.
The physician sighed.
“We can wait 30 minutes at most.”
“That’s enough.”
Of course it was enough.
She was only going to ask a question, not engage in a long, romantic farewell.
—
The carriage left the mansion.
Young Wang Tong gripped the whip tightly, unsure whether to make the horse run faster or slower.
Not even 12 years old, he felt as if he were facing a massive life trial.
He realized with a shock that no matter what he wished for his young master to choose, it felt wrong—even though his wishes wouldn’t change a thing.
His chest felt tight with a suffocating pressure.
Suddenly hearing his master’s weak, weary sigh from inside the carriage, the boy’s nose stung, and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
“Young Master…”
Wang Tong choked out.
“Mm.”
Wang Tong just cried.
He felt like an ant facing the descending foot of an elephant.
Whether he ran or stayed, whether he resisted or surrendered, it was all meaningless.
Finally, the carriage stopped outside Fengyue Tower.
Wang Tong helped Sandong down.
Noticing his tear-stained face, Sandong pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to him.
“You’re a grown man. What is this behavior?”
She laughed, patted his shoulder, and turned to enter Fengyue Tower.
Yueniang greeted her with a smile and helped her upstairs.
Inside the room, Yuan Di was sitting cross-legged on the bed, meditating.
Sandong sat down across from her.
Glancing at the male clothing Yuan Di wore, she joked, “It’s so hot out. Wouldn’t it be better to wear a dress? It would be much cooler.”
“Why don’t you wear one?”
“I’m a man.”
“I am as well.”
“Tch.”
In Sandong’s heart, she had never truly seen Yuan Di as a man, even if she technically was one.
“Let’s talk business. My father’s meridians were injured by a disciple of the Demon Sovereign. My Second Uncle wants to use my ‘Rootless Blood’ to absorb the Demonic Qi from his body.”
Yuan Di went silent for a moment before praising, “A clever idea.”
Sandong’s eyelids drooped.
Yuan Di glanced at her and suddenly flashed a mischievous, successful smile.
“If you hadn’t practiced Demonic Arts, this would certainly be a death sentence. But since you have… it will be all benefit and no harm.”
“Oh, then I can relax.”
Sandong laughed loudly.
“Not only will I not die, but I’ll even gain something? Perfect! Hahaha!”
Yuan Di narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Sandong.
Her lips curled into a smirk as she hummed, “Why force a smile?”
“What are you talking about?”
Sandong continued to laugh, retorting, “I get to be a filial son and earn Demonic Qi at the same time. I’m genuinely happy. How is this a ‘forced smile’?”
Yuan Di was silent for a moment, perhaps projecting her own feelings onto the situation.
She then sighed.
“Suppressing your emotions is not beneficial to your cultivation.”
“You’re one to talk. Last time you told me to control my emotions.”
“Control them, do not suppress them.”
Sandong rolled her eyes at Yuan Di.
“Are you playing word games with me?”
Yuan Di didn’t answer, closing her eyes to resume her cultivation.
“Wait a second,” Sandong said.
“One more thing. When I use my blood to absorb the Demonic Qi, won’t people find out I’m a Demonic Cultivator?”
“Don’t worry.”
Yuan Di kept her eyes closed, focusing on her breathing.
“The Huitian manual is extraordinary. Unless you actively use your Demonic Qi, no one will be able to tell.”
“Good.”
Seeing that Yuan Di had stopped talking and was deep in meditation, Sandong took the hint and left the room.
Her father, Wang Zhongyi, was waiting to be saved; she couldn’t afford to waste any more time.
—
Inside the carriage, the smile Sandong had held for so long vanished instantly.
Her gaze turned cold as she breathed slowly.
Her body began to tremble.
Before long, the carriage returned to the Wang Mansion.
Wang Tong, still sobbing, helped Sandong toward the inner residence.
It felt like an escort to an execution ground—or perhaps a funeral.
Sandong frowned and scolded him in a low voice, “Enough, enough. Stop crying. You’re ruining the atmosphere.”
Wang Tong didn’t know what atmosphere he was ruining, but he obediently tried to stifle his tears.
However, crying is a difficult thing to stop.
The more one tries to hold it back, the more the urge builds.
Passing through an arched gate, Sandong saw a crowd of people waiting in the courtyard.
“My son!”
Madam Wang cried out, approaching her with a sob.
She threw her arms around Sandong and began to weep.
Sandong sighed.
She hesitated before raising her hand to gently pat Madam Wang’s back.
“Sister-in-law, there is no time to lose,” her Third Uncle, Wang Zhongxin, reminded them.
Standing beside him was his son, Wang Yunteng.
His eyes were red as he looked at Sandong.
He took a step forward, about to speak, but Wang Zhongxin suddenly grabbed his arm.
Wang Yunteng clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as he met Sandong’s eyes.
His throat worked as if he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.
Observing this, Sandong gave Wang Yunteng a small, smiling nod.
She gently pushed Madam Wang away and turned to Mr. Yi.
“Sir, let’s begin,” she said with a smile.
Without waiting, she was the first to enter the room.
“Third Sister! You don’t have to—”
Wang Yunteng suddenly roared just as the door was about to close.
However, his voice was cut short.
The door finally slammed shut.
Wang Yunteng’s face was pressed against the ground, veins bulging on his forehead.
He opened his mouth wide, trying to scream, but not a single sound came out.
Only his exhaled breath disturbed the dust on the floor.
His father, Wang Zhongxin, had his knee pressed into his son’s lower back to keep him down.
One hand gripped the back of the boy’s neck.
A faint white light flickered on his fingers.
Though the light was weak, it was enough to sustain a Silence spell.
Wang Yunteng’s eyes were bloodshot.
Knowing it was futile, he continued to howl soundlessly.
Looking at the shape of his mouth, he wasn’t shouting “Third Sister.”
He was calling for “Big Brother.”
His eldest brother, Wang Jinghong, loved Sandong the most.
If he were home right now, he would never have allowed this choice to be made.
Never!