After picking himself up, he earnestly grasped the wrists of several elderly men.

"Can you push harder and refine a toxin strong enough to kill a Half-Saint?" Yi Feng said solemnly. "I just want to dedicate my life here."

Witnessing this, the group of poison masters were moved to tears.

Just look at this!

What a noble sense of sacrifice!

"Hero Yi, your righteousness is truly admirable. We’d love to fulfill your grand wish of sacrificing yourself for humanity, but you are, after all, a Half-Saint."

"As a Half-Saint, you should understand better than any of us just how terrifying someone of your level truly is. We simply lack the capability."

One by one, they wore expressions of shame.

Meanwhile, Yi Feng felt utterly hopeless...

Several days passed in the blink of an eye.

After days of wallowing in despair, Yi Feng had packed his belongings and was waiting for the ship arranged by the Poison Sky Island to take him away the next day.

Under the starry sky, atop the Poison Sky Peak, Night Owl stood with her hands behind her back, clad in black robes, gazing at the distant crescent moon.

Her delicate face betrayed a mix of hesitation and conflict.

After a long, long while, she finally gritted her teeth and took to the skies.

Soon, she arrived outside Yi Feng’s courtyard.

With a flick of her hand, a letter pierced through space and embedded itself into the gate.

Then, Night Owl swiftly vanished.

"Hmph."

"Daring to order me around, and even asking for late-night snacks? Hope you choke on it."

"A Half-Saint? So what?"

"My little Night Owl is also a Half-Saint—one even true Saints fear! Once we’re officially together, I’ll make you kneel and lick my feet."

Zhang Zhishan muttered curses under his breath as he carried a basket of food.

Just as he was about to push open the courtyard gate, he spotted a white letter stuck into it.

He glanced left and right, confirming no one was around, then couldn’t resist pulling it out and opening it.

The moment he read it, his entire body trembled, and his face lit up with joy.

The letter contained only a dozen or so words, but they were neatly written—clearly penned with great care.

The message read:

Young Master, if you have time, please meet me by the eastern shore—Night Owl.

"HAHAHAHA!"

"My darling couldn’t hold back any longer and finally asked to see me!"

"And at the secluded shore under the cover of night, no less. How... how thrilling!"

Zhang Zhishan smirked smugly, hands clasped behind his back as he tilted his chin up slightly.

The night breeze rustled his white robes, his hair fluttering at his temples.

In this moment, he felt exceptionally dashing.

Moved by the scene, he couldn’t help but compose a poem.

"The moon is especially fair,"

"A dashing time is now here,"

"A scholar matched with beauty rare,"

"Out in the wild—oh, what a pair!"

"Ah!"

After reciting this nonsensical verse, Zhang Zhishan wore a satisfied expression, utterly lost in self-admiration.

Just then, Yi Feng emerged, having heard the earlier commotion.

"What was that noise just now?" Yi Feng couldn’t help but ask.

"Nothing."

Zhang Zhishan quickly composed himself and replied deferentially. Though he cursed Yi Feng in his heart, the man was still a Half-Saint, so surface-level courtesy was necessary.

"Oh." Yi Feng nodded, then noticed the letter in Zhang Zhishan’s hand. "And this letter is...?"

Yi Feng’s question made Zhang Zhishan’s lips twitch. What’s it got to do with you?

Outwardly, he explained, "This letter is for me."

"I see."

Yi Feng nodded again, picked up the late-night snacks from the ground, and turned to leave.

Watching Yi Feng’s retreating figure, Zhang Zhishan sneered in disdain.

The next instant, he bolted toward the eastern shore like a mad dog.

When he arrived, sure enough, he saw that graceful silhouette bathed in moonlight.

His eyes brightened instantly, and he slowed from his frantic sprint.

Smoothing his hair and adjusting his white robes, he transformed into the image of a refined gentleman, hands behind his back as he approached the figure with a gentle expression.

Night Owl stood with her back to him.

Hearing footsteps behind her, her heart tightened, anxiety flooding her chest.

"Young Master... have you come?"

She tried to keep her tone neutral as she spoke softly.

Zhang Zhishan’s eyebrows rose.

So she’s already this deeply infatuated with me?

But as a seasoned charmer, he knew better than to say much. A slow approach, a meaningful glance, and a subtle gesture would suffice.

So he merely replied with a faint, "Mhm."

Too nervous to notice anything amiss, Night Owl’s heart pounded wildly.

Yi Feng’s appearance and his closeness had been like a flame, melting her frozen heart—a heart that had been encased in ice for years.

She killed without hesitation, treated life as a plaything, but that didn’t mean she lacked emotions.

Having grown up starved of affection, she yearned for it more than anyone else.

She didn’t know how to play games or weave intricate schemes—she only followed her instincts, blunt and direct.

Like that day in Yi Feng’s room, when he’d made that outrageous request.

To most, it would’ve been unforgivable, grounds for hostility at the very least.

But not for her.

If she was willing, then she was willing.

Now that Yi Feng was leaving tomorrow, she—a woman so powerful even Saints feared her—felt lost and afraid.

If a Saint came to kill her tomorrow, she wouldn’t feel this way.

It was as if something precious she’d only just obtained was slipping away.

She didn’t want to lose it.

So she decided to write a letter, asking him to meet her one last time.

And so, she did.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke her mind without reservation.

"Young Master, do you know... ever since that first day we met, I haven’t been able to forget you."

Her face flushed, but saying it aloud brought her immense relief.

Zhang Zhishan, however, was stunned.

Am I really this charming?

She couldn’t forget me after just one meeting?

They hadn’t even spoken that day, and there had been so many people around!

"Could you... stay tomorrow?"

Now that she’d bared her heart, she went ahead and voiced her deepest wish.

As she spoke, she nervously turned her head.

Night Owl’s glance over her shoulder made Zhang Zhishan’s spirits soar.

What an exquisite face!

He immediately shot her what he thought was a smoldering look, then struck his most debonair pose, flashing a smile brimming with affection.

But Night Owl’s next words plunged him into an icy abyss.

"Why... is it you?"

"How could it be you?"

Her tender expression twisted into fury in an instant. The temperature around them plummeted, as if winter’s frost had descended.

The very air seemed to solidify, cracking audibly under the pressure.

Zhang Zhishan, caught in the brunt of her aura, felt as if a mountain weighed down on him. His legs buckled, knees hitting the ground.

"I—it’s me, of course!"

"Didn’t... didn’t you call me here?"

Utterly bewildered, Zhang Zhishan stammered under her overwhelming presence, nearly wetting himself in terror.

"When did I ever call you?"

Night Owl closed the distance in an instant, her ice-cold, bloodless hand clamping around his throat as she slowly lifted him off the ground.

"Why... is it... you?"

Night Owl's eyes burned crimson as black mist visibly seeped from her neck, swirling into a towering cloud of toxic vapor. Her entire being seemed demonized as she uttered each word with icy precision.

"Ni... Night Owl, my lord, wasn’t it you who summoned me here for a meeting?"

Zhang Zhishan wept openly, snot and tears streaming down his face as he stammered, "You called for me, so I came!"

"When did I ever summon you?"

The frigid voice tore from Night Owl’s lips, her frostbitten fingers tightening relentlessly around his throat.

Crack.

Under the crushing force, Zhang Zhishan’s neck creaked audibly. His eyes bulged, his face turned a violent shade of red, and inky black blood began oozing from all seven orifices.

Night Owl’s fury knew no bounds.

She had awaited his arrival with eager anticipation.

Mustering every ounce of courage, she had finally spoken the words buried deep in her heart.

Yet instead of him, this worthless, contemptible fool had appeared—someone she wouldn’t even deign to glance at.

"You deserve to be torn limb from limb. No one can save you now."

Her voice dripped with malice as tendrils of black mist crawled from her arm, swarming over Zhang Zhishan’s body like a horde of ravenous ants.

"Ahhh!"

The moment the mist touched him, Zhang Zhishan let out a soul-rending scream.

In that instant, agony consumed not just his body—but his very soul and Dao heart as well.

"Why... why wasn’t it you?"

Night Owl didn’t spare him a single glance, tossing him aside like a lifeless dog. Her voice trembled with desolation as she muttered,

"Why wasn’t it you?"

Dazed, she repeated the words, turning away in despair.

Just then, a familiar voice called from behind her—

"Island Master Night Owl, care for a drink?"