By the time she came to her senses, every last person in the kitchen had gone. The final servant to leave had even thoughtfully pulled the door shut behind them.

Leng Yue snapped back to attention and looked up — and found Feng Jiu already watching her, wearing that same expression hovering between a smile and something else entirely.

If Feng Jiu were furious, Leng Yue might not have been quite so afraid. If Feng Jiu truly dared to strike and kill her, she only needed to cry out for help.

At that point, His Highness might even come to stop it — though, truthfully, Leng Yue suspected His Highness was probably far too occupied right now.

But the expression on Feng Jiu’s face at this moment was, to her, absolutely terrifying.

“What… what are you trying to do?” She instinctively edged toward the doorway. “This is the Ninth Prince’s manor. Don’t think you can just do whatever you please here.”

“Am I not here to teach you how to prepare a medicinal broth?” Feng Jiu stepped forward, and Leng Yue stumbled back two full steps in fright.

Feng Jiu gave a cold laugh. “Want to leave? You’re welcome to — and then I’ll go tell your beloved Ninth Prince that you refused to attend to the Empress Dowager.”

“What exactly do you want?!” Leng Yue was nearly shouting now. Just say it plainly — stop wasting her time. Did she not know that Leng Yue’s time was precious?

“Do I need to say it again? You lowly woman — how is it that even your hearing is this poor?”

“What did you say?” Leng Yue’s expression darkened, fury flashing through her. This despicable creature dared to humiliate her like this?

“Nothing much. I simply said you are lowly — not even worthy of carrying my shoes in the Ninth Prince’s presence.” Feng Jiu curved her lips into a smile. “Surely I was clear enough?”

“You—”

Suddenly, the figure before her blurred. Feng Jiu crossed the kitchen in swift strides and, with a sharp click, bolted the door.

She had locked the door!

Leng Yue’s legs nearly gave out beneath her. She did not even fully understand why she was so afraid — but in that moment, she simply was.

“What do you want?! If you dare do anything, I’ll — I’ll — mmph—”

The rest of her words never came. In one fluid motion, Feng Jiu flicked her fingertip, and a pill she had concealed in her hand shot through the air — straight into Leng Yue’s open mouth.

The pill struck deep and dissolved on contact. Though Leng Yue moved as quickly as she could to spit it out, the greater part had already slid down her throat.

“Mmph — mmph—” Leng Yue felt with horror that her voice had been stolen from her. She could no longer speak.

“Mmph — mmph — mmph!” The white-robed figure before her seemed to loom larger. Leng Yue reflexively struck out with her palm, desperate to push her back — but her martial arts were woefully inadequate against Feng Jiu.

A sharp crack rang out as Feng Jiu’s palm connected with her face. Half of Leng Yue’s face swelled immediately.

More strikes followed in rapid succession. Leng Yue’s face burned with a searing, relentless pain. She tried to dodge, but Feng Jiu had seized a fistful of her hair at the crown of her head. Every attempt to flee sent a jolt of agony through her scalp, forcing her to stop short.

She tried to gather her inner energy and strike back, but every time the force began to coalesce in her palms, Feng Jiu knocked it apart with a single blow.

Leng Yue was no amateur — she was a capable fighter, and her reputation in the martial world was not nothing. And yet here she was, hair yanked back and held in place while blow after blow landed across her face, utterly powerless to retaliate.

How had she been reduced to this?

“Mmph — mmph — mmph—” All she could manage after taking that pill were weak, muffled sounds. Even if the guards outside heard, they would have no reason to suspect she had been so badly injured.

Feng Jiu pinned her hair back with one hand and pressed her foot down onto Leng Yue’s right hand.

“Mmph—” Leng Yue’s eyes flew wide. Her face convulsed. She bit down and nearly vomited white foam.

“Disgusting.” Even now, Feng Jiu’s expression retained that faint, almost-smile — though to Leng Yue, that smiling face was more terrifying than a demon from the depths of hell.

Feng Jiu withdrew her foot and pressed it to Leng Yue’s torso instead, grinding the sole of her shoe across it at length before finally pulling away.

As though her hands had been dirtied by the encounter, she drew out a square cloth, carefully and elegantly wiped her hands clean, and then dropped the cloth to the ground.

The look she gave Leng Yue was the same look she gave the discarded cloth — filled with such contempt that she seemed to fear even another glance might dirty her eyes.

“From now on,” Feng Jiu said, her lips curving upward into a smile that was achingly beautiful and bone-chillingly cold, “I will be coming to see you regularly. Every time I see you, I will beat you. Truly — I am not joking. Ha.”

Truly. She meant every word.

Leng Yue’s face had gone the color of ash. For the first time, a thread of genuine regret crept through her — regret for ever having provoked this person.

How could a young woman be this vicious?

She was terrifying. Truly terrifying. And perhaps most terrifying of all — after Feng Jiu walked out, she told everyone outside that Leng Yue was preparing the medicinal broth and was not to be disturbed for a full hour.

An hour of suffering through this agony? Would no one come to save her? She was on the verge of losing consciousness from the pain.

Someone — please, someone come. Find Mo Bai. She was in so much pain. She truly was.

Mo Bai — come and save her. Your Highness… Your Lordship — Your Lordship, come and see what she looks like right now, how pitiful she is.

It was Feng Jiu’er. It was your beloved Feng Jiu’er who did this to her.

Feng Jiu’er — so savage and brutal. Had Your Lordship truly seen what she was?

Feng Jiu’er — so ruthless and cruel. Could Your Lordship still find it in himself to care for her?

Someone — please, someone come. She was truly dying…