Chapter 551: Chapter 532: The Heart Has No Desires

Waning clouds obscured the moonlight as it filtered through at the edge of night, a gentle breeze stirring a fine mist of flower petals and light rain, casting a hazy moonlight through the clouds.

Upon these tumultuous cloudbanks that crowned the city’s palace, a solitary figure of utter beauty and isolation glided to the edge of the glazed roof tiles, her movements graceful and agile.

Perhaps it was the slippery tiles, slick with a light drizzle, but that figure, as ethereal as smoke, stumbled, nearly plunging from the eaves.

A hand suddenly reached through the rain, firmly grasping her arm and pulling her back to safety atop the roof.

As Ning Feiyan steadied herself, she glanced at the hand on her arm, narrowing her eyes slightly but saying nothing.

The figure that emerged from the shadows under the cover of night was the assassin Hong Zhuang from the Demon Clan, wearing a new Waning Moon Mask that concealed most of her face within her cloak.

Noticing Ning Feiyan’s gaze, she slowly released her grip, concern lacing her voice, “You… are you alright?”

Ning Feiyan’s eyes, previously narrowed, opened slightly; her gaze was clear and contained the coolness of annihilation, devoid of any worldly warmth or desire.

She brushed off her sleeve calmly, replying, “What could possibly be wrong with me?”

Yet, a closer inspection of her peaceful demeanor revealed a hint of venom and ferocity that could not be easily ignored.

Hong Zhuang looked on stiffly, seeing Feiyan’s lavender attire shredded as if by countless blades, barely covering her form, her long legs and waist exposed to the eye, her usually fair skin now marked with traces that Hong Zhuang could not understand.

The skin was mottled blue and red, as if she had been cruelly abused.

Her expression was pallid and weak, her eyes foggy, lips cracked, and even her voice was hoarse.

Standing appeared to be a struggle, as if half her life had been wrenched away.

Her usual radiant appearance had faded, and the fiery red pearls dangling beside her ears had lost their luster.

Having never seen her in such a state before, Hong Zhuang took in her outwardly cool and frosty appearance, which belied an unmistakable helplessness and disarray.

Hong Zhuang’s heart ached, “I’ve been hiding in the city, waiting for your command, as you instructed. But you have been in the inner hall for three days. Although that young man’s cultivation is not high, his methods are quite peculiar. I have been worried for you for a long time.”

As the rain intensified, icy beads beat down on them chillingly. Hong Zhuang quickly removed her outer cloak and draped it over Ning Feiyan. Inadvertently, she noticed the fresh bite marks on Feiyan’s shoulder beneath the torn clothes.

The wind lifted her sleeves, carrying a faint fragrance of flowers from her body. Hong Zhuang’s pupils slightly dilated as she tilted her head, sensing another incredibly faint scent that the raindrops could not mask.

A blush quickly rose to the cheeks that were not covered by the mask. Her fingers stiffened, unable to comprehend, but driven by the keen instincts of her lineage as an Enchanting Demon, she had an inkling of what might have happened.

Ning Feiyan gave her a casual glance, carefully arranging her outer garment to conceal her disheveled and humiliated state, then casually tossed out a purple Divine Talisman. The talisman transformed instantly into a gilded, cloud-stepping carriage that hovered in the air.

“Let’s talk inside the carriage,” she commanded.

Both of them lightly touched the eaves with their toes before leaping into the carriage.

Inside, the carriage was set with burning incense and tea. Ning Feiyan reclined elegantly on the couch, taking a sip of clear tea, finally soothing her hoarse throat.

Hong Zhuang stood silently by her side. While Ning Feiyan’s movements were no different from usual, Hong Zhuang could sense that her mood was incredibly foul.

Hong Zhuang dared not contemplate what Feiyan had endured over the past three days, for she could not believe there was anyone in this world who could have dealt her such a humiliating blow.

Even in the year of the clan upheaval, when the former River Lord had slaughtered and purged the Enchanting Demon Clan, at the time, her people were not yet powerful enough to battle the formidable River Lord of Si He.

Ning Feiyan, as the chosen sacrificial offering of her people, was sent to serve in the Royal Hall of Si He to appease the River Lord’s wrath and secure a lifeline for her clan.

The former River Lord was notoriously brutal and merciless, killing countless Enchanting Demons, not a single one of whom ever left his Royal Hall intact.

He loved to toy with his “prey,” promising the Enchanting Demon Clan that if the plaything they sent to his Royal Hall survived three days, he would spare the lives of thousands of their people.

Hong Zhuang remembered the night before Feiyan was sent to the Royal Hall, being force-fed countless elixirs that pushed her body beyond its limits, her family indifferent to the pain akin to knives scraping her bones, just so Feiyan could endure those three days for the survival of their entire clan.

When everyone assumed that she would be devoured by the River Lord to the point of leaving no bones behind,

The doors of the hall opened on the third day to reveal a scene of appalling bloodshed.

Ning Feiyan sat elegantly by a window, wiping the blood from her fingers with her usual calm and composed demeanor, her gentle and amiable gaze as tender as ever.

Her clothes were as pristine as they had been three days prior—yet it was this unwavering composure and friendliness that truly sent shivers down one’s spine.

For the beauty that one perceives is often just superficial, while the true malevolence is hidden deep within, unseen and unfelt, and that’s what truly inspires endless dread.

It was then, Hong Zhuang felt as if she was truly meeting her sister for the first time.

The once-feared River Lord of Si He was strung up in the middle of the Royal Hall, covered in blood, his entire skin flayed off and impeccably spread out to dry on the windowsill.