CHAPTER 248: CHAPTER 217: PREGNANT

The two stared at each other for a long time.

The nun, holding her staff, smiled out of nowhere and asked:

"You used to hate those two so much you wanted to eat their flesh raw. Now that you’ve truly tasted it, how was it?"

Her tone was serene and unhurried, like an old friend reunited after years apart.

Chen Yi recalled briefly and said:

"Zhu E was as gentle as water, tasting like the smoothness of a lotus flower, whereas Qin Qingluo was like a small horse pulling a heavy cart, you had to tug on her hair to drive her, truly flavorful. So, the taste was quite good."

Dong Gong Ruoshu blinked and stared at Chen Yi with confusion and a hint of horror.

"What tasted good?"

The young Miss Donggong exclaimed:

"You ate people?"

Chen Yi froze for a moment.

This Miss Donggong truly had the making of a killer’s sword.

Chen Yi turned to glance at Dong Gong Ruoshu and said softly:

"Miss Donggong, why don’t you head back first?"

Dong Gong Ruoshu hesitated for a while, glanced at the nun, then at Chen Yi.

"Don’t worry, nothing will happen to me," Chen Yi said.

Upon hearing this, Miss Donggong nodded deeply, then trotted down the steps with small, quick strides.

Chen Yi walked over to the nun once more and asked:

"Why are you asking me this?"

The nun did not respond but countered instead: "Regarding those two, don’t you have any... interesting thoughts?"

Chen Yi narrowed his eyes, finding it meaningless to banter with someone like her, especially with such circular conversation.

So, he stroked his chin and teased:

"With just a mere inch of glaze light, I’ve always felt my revenge against that woman prince wasn’t... satisfying enough."

The nun lightly nodded, her expression serene and sacred, and said:

"Even if you don’t say it, more or less, I can guess."

"Go ahead, let’s hear it."

"Qin Qingluo is no ordinary person; even if her martial will crumbles temporarily, she may rise again someday. If that happens, even with the Demon Sect Saintess involved, she wouldn’t let you off easily."

The nun spoke with the tone of someone revealing profound truths, then waved the mandrake flower in her fingertips and said:

"But, what if Zhu E is pregnant?"

A chilly breeze poured down from Medicine Temple, cutting through the eighty-eight stone steps and sending shivers through the air.

The nun spoke lightly:

"The one relative she cares about above all else willingly gives birth to her enemy’s child. Upon seeing him, Qin Qingluo would have her heart cut by knives night and day, and this incident would haunt her every waking moment. Thus, even if her martial will rises once more, it wouldn’t last long."

Chen Yi burst into laughter.

The nun watched, clearly seeing how much pleasure he took in her idea.

"Quite the scheme,"

The nun was about to nod but then heard him add:

"But not quite bold enough."

The nun squinted, both curious and questioning, and asked:

"Oh?"

Chen Yi didn’t glance back at Medicine Temple but instead grinned and said:

"If Zhu E gets pregnant, no matter how much it torments Qin Qingluo at first, eventually she’ll grow numb. She might even pretend not to see it—invisible, untormenting—raising a dead weight within the Prince of Annan Mansion, a being neither living nor truly cared for.

But what if Qin Qingluo herself were pregnant?

Now tell me, would the relative she cherishes most, Zhu E, try everything to persuade her to stay?"

The mandrake flower at the nun’s fingertips trembled slightly as her gaze locked intently on the man before her.

He truly grasped the essence of the killing sword.

If one is not deaf or blind, one does not become the head of the house. Many matriarchs from prominent families cannot restrain themselves, indulging in sordid matters resulting in illegitimate offspring. And yet, the family head always admits it begrudgingly, growing numb over time because those illegitimate children are not their own. Beyond humiliation, they hold no feelings for them.

Likewise, the woman prince might eventually feel the same.

But if this enemy child were borne by her, delivered into the world through her own body...

A child of her own flesh and blood—how could she grow numb? How could she remain indifferent?

Moreover, her nominal princess Zhu E—the Saintess, who reveres Chen Yi as the Bright Venerable and always puts his interests first—would surely persuade Qin Qingluo to care for this enemy child.

Human hearts are flesh-made, and over time, would Qin Qingluo not feel some genuine affection for this enemy child?

Perhaps even for the one who destroyed her martial will, Chen Yi...

As the nun gazed at Chen Yi’s towering figure, merely imagining the proud woman prince unintentionally revealing maternal instinct made the mandrake flower at her fingertip quiver.

Her eyes glimmered faintly, and Chen Yi spoke:

"An idea, after all, is just an idea. One attempt wouldn’t guarantee pregnancy. But talking of ideas, Master, why ask me questions like these?

What’s this, Master tempted by mortal lust, thinking of offering oneself as sacrifice to the tiger?"

The nun recovered quickly, chuckling lightly:

"Once, Guanyin used the red-painted skeleton to guide mortals, showing the peak of desire revealed as a painted skeleton form. Why couldn’t I guide you likewise? I only fear you cannot bear it."

As she spoke, the kasaya on her body danced with the wind, tracing ripened contours, as if it might untie itself.

Then, she heard a single phrase.

"That’s fine, skeletons suit me just as well."

Even a seasoned nun flinched slightly upon hearing those words.

The kasaya stopped moving altogether, drooping lifelessly to the ground.

Chen Yi rubbed his chin and smiled impishly:

"So, shall we give it a try?"

After a long silence, the nun laughed again:

"Let’s forget about it."

Chen Yi’s face fell dramatically, showing intense disappointment:

"If you plan to guide me, why refuse to sacrifice yourself to the tiger?"

"If sacrificing myself to the tiger cannot guide you, then why should I sacrifice myself?"

Still clutching her staff, lotus in hand, the nun said:

"The Bodhisattva guides only those who can be guided."

Chen Yi then asked:

"So who in this world cannot be guided?"

With that, he walked slowly, closer, standing on a step one level above the nun.

"Those who cannot guide themselves cannot be guided." The nun twirled the lotus, smiling subtly.

"And who cannot guide themselves?" Chen Yi adopted an expression of partial understanding, tinged with perplexity, and asked again.

"Those who cannot be guided cannot guide themselves."

The nun continued smiling with her lotus in hand.

Chen Yi reached out and slapped her across the face.

The sharp slap echoed, silencing the very air around them.

"Here’s a slap—let’s see if you’ll keep twirling that lotus and smiling."

Chen Yi sneered and said,

"Quit speaking circles—why not just speak plainly?"

Though struck fiercely, the nun’s eyes did not betray even a hint of anger.

She remained calm, devoid of joy or sorrow, and replied lightly:

"I possess profound Buddhist Law, its essence difficult to articulate. Even when forced into words, I regret you cannot grasp its subtleties."

Chen Yi listened to these ambiguous remarks and didn’t get angry; rather, he laughed and said:

"I’m quite curious to see how you plan to guide me."

The nun waved her mandrake flower, its crimson petals swayed gently, mesmerizing like the world’s most captivating vista, impossible to resist.

Chen Yi took effort to wrench his gaze from the flower.

And in that instant, he suddenly felt no pain in his severed left arm.

Turning his head, Chen Yi realized his left arm had regained movement.

He flexed slightly and gripped his hand, confirming it was fully functional.

Were the shattered woman prince Qin Qingluo to see this sight, a new shadow might descend over her already embattled soul.

Not only had her martial will been destroyed, her body defiled, and her sole cherished relative turned toward another—now, even the grievous damage she inflicted had been undone.

She had lost nearly everything, while Chen Yi had gained nearly everything.

As he pondered this, imagining Qin Qingluo’s golden snake-like eyes darkening further upon witnessing this reversal, he couldn’t help but laugh.

"Why do this?" Chen Yi asked, flexing his left arm with amusement.

The nun replied simply:

"To guide you. Guiding is not about causing harm, but helping one achieve realization."

Chen Yi mulled over this.

It appeared restoring his left arm was indeed part of her guidance.

So, he said, "Then, Master, why not rid me of the poison from the sarira broth as well?"

The nun laughed without answering, seemingly unwilling to respond.

Seeing this, Chen Yi fell silent.

"I’ve said enough; now, I feel like killing Zhao Bai."

Rarely did the nun’s gaze visibly tighten.

Chen Yi caught this detail.

Evidently, this Joyful Sect heir was a critical chess piece in the games of gods and immortals.

After all, it intertwined with the Demon Lord Bo Xun’s daughter, as well as the eventual rift opening at the gates of heaven.

Reflecting on these, Chen Yi glanced at his newly restored arm, developing some theories about the nun’s method of guidance.

In a calm tone, he said:

"Master, I suggest you make a choice—decide whether it’s I, the Heaven-Repairing Stone, or Zhao Bai, that’s more important."

The nun closed her eyes.

Her Bodhisattva-like lips parted slightly as though chanting silent mantras.

Patiently, Chen Yi waited.

After a long while, the nun seemed to receive some unseen message and spoke faintly:

"Alright, I will let you kill him. But the karmic consequences afterward..."

"I’ll bear them alone." Before she could finish, Chen Yi interrupted her.

Chen Yi feared no karmic burden; wielding the killing sword’s essence, decisions were best direct and firm. Hesitation served no purpose, and Zhao Bai had already schemed against him. Why spare him?

The nun’s gaze drifted past Chen Yi, gazing distantly toward Medicine Temple.

Seeing she had nothing to add, Chen Yi bypassed her and prepared to leave.

After descending about thirteen steps, the nun suddenly asked:

"Do you remember what you said earlier?"

"What words?"

Chen Yi asked in return. He had said so much, how could he know which phrase she referred to?

The nun, with a slight smile, revealed a bit of celestial wisdom:

"The Prince of Annan, Qin Qingluo."

Chen Yi paused, his eyes slightly widened.

At the time, it had been little more than casual, crude talk—a moment of reckless speech, in truth.

The nun merely said: "Your obsession will come true, and moreover... it will be a daughter."

As the breeze brushed Medicine Temple, Chen Yi turned to look back, but the nun had vanished without a trace, impossible to find.

Her words clarified how she intended to guide him.

For now, though, he chose not to dwell deeply but instead narrowed his eyes, taking an enigmatic glance back at Medicine Temple.

That gaze seemed to pierce through dozens of stone steps, landing squarely on the despair-laden figure of the woman prince.