Su Yu sat cross-legged on the black Warm Jade Bed, a soft velvet blanket beneath her. With eyes closed, she attempted to enter the “state of tranquility” described in the beastskin manual, yet her thoughts drifted uncontrollably toward the last words You Li had left behind.
Sister… How long had it been since she last heard that address from You Li’s lips? From the moment You Li fell into the demonic path, transformed into You Li, and dragged her into this endless hell with bloodstained hands, “Senior Sister” had become a mockery, “Su Yu” had become a prisoner’s code name, and “Sister”… had long been buried beneath the peach blossom tree in Qing Yin Pavilion, dead alongside that cheerful, lively Qing Li.
Did the current You Li still regard her as a “sister”?
Su Yu recalled the cold torments in the dungeon, the soul-searing pain of the Blood Mark Pact being branded into her, the humiliation of being forced to kneel, and last night’s “chess lesson” filled with scrutiny and amusement… Were these the ways to treat a sister?
Yet she also remembered those “nourishing” soups, the ointment secretly applied to her knees, this “prison cell” that, though opulent, was no longer gloomy and cold, You Li’s clumsy yet meticulous movements while tying her hair, that extremely soft sigh when You Li closed her eyes to feel her awkward touch… and even that fleeting, almost admiringly complex glimmer in You Li’s eyes when she allowed her to reconnect with spiritual power.
The hatred was real, the torment was real, the desire for control was real.
But those subtle, contradictory, almost “caring” actions were also real.
And that “sister” buried beneath the cruelty… Could it have been merely an illusion meant to bewitch?
Su Yu’s heart was in turmoil. Hatred and fear intertwined, confusion and expectation entangled. You Li was like the deepest fog, seemingly heartless, yet occasionally revealing elusive glimmers through the cracks, allowing her to catch glimpses of illusory warmth in the abyss of despair, only to plunge her into deeper bewilderment.
She could not dwell on this any longer. Su Yu forced herself to regain focus. Regardless of what You Li thought, regardless of what she saw her as—an enemy, a prisoner, a plaything, or a “sister” in a distorted memory—it changed nothing about her current predicament. Surviving, preserving the last shred of her self, even within shackles, was the only thing that mattered.
And survival, perhaps even the faint, slim hope of changing her circumstances in the future, might lie within this strictly limited, newly born, feeble spiritual power.
She once again sank her consciousness into her body. With her previous experience, avoiding the core areas occupied by the Gu poison and the Blood Mark Pact had become slightly more familiar. Carefully, she guided that faint yet pure Innate Qi, following the remote and narrow collateral meridians designated by You Li, and began its slow circulation.
This process was extremely arduous. Her meridians, weakened and parched from prolonged confinement and Gu poison erosion, brought needle-like stinging pain as the spiritual power flowed through them.
Even more taxing was the mental exertion. She had to concentrate fully, as if walking a tightrope over a cliff—maintaining the circulation of spiritual power while remaining vigilant at all times, ensuring not a trace of it dispersed or approached the forbidden zones. You Li’s warning still echoed in her ears, and the Blood Mark Pact hung over her like a sword suspended above her head. She dared not show the slightest negligence.
After completing a full Zhou Tian cycle, Su Yu’s face was pale, her clothes soaked through with sweat, more exhausted than after a hard-fought battle. Yet, at the same time, a long-lost sensation quietly stirred within her parched spiritual core.
It was the feeling of power. Even if this power was as faint as a firefly’s glow, confined within a cage, it truly existed—it belonged to her, not a “gift” from You Li or the erosion of Gu poison.
It was like a seed buried deep in frozen soil, struggling in desperation, trembling, to push out a barely visible sprout, relying on the faintest glimmer of light and moisture seeping through tiny cracks.
This feeling sent ripples across the stagnant lake of her heart. This faint power, reawakened by herself, became her last connection to the identity of “Su Yu.”
She slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air and opened her eyes. Her gaze remained weary, but deep within, there was now a faint glimmer of light. It was no longer the lifeless emptiness of the dungeon, nor the panicked numbness of her early days in Xue E Gong, but a focus that was beginning to coalesce anew under immense pressure.
Just then, the stone door slid open. Without the warning of footsteps, You Li’s figure appeared in the doorway.
Instead of walking straight in as usual, she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her blood-red eyes fixed on Su Yu with an appraising gaze. She had clearly been there for a while, perhaps witnessing Su Yu’s entire cultivation process.
Su Yu’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively wanted to conceal her aura, masking the faint fluctuations of spiritual power she had just circulated. But she immediately realized that such concealment was futile in front of You Li. She could only sit rigidly, meeting those deep, inscrutable eyes.
You Li’s gaze shifted from Su Yu’s pale, sweat-drenched face to her slightly heaving chest, finally settling on her trembling hands, still folded on her knees. That gaze seemed capable of piercing through flesh to see the faint flow of spiritual power that had just settled within her body.
“Three minor celestial cycles?”
Su Yu lowered her gaze, her throat dry. “…Only one and a half… It’s too slow. The meridians…”
She trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. Complaining about fragile meridians? That would be no different from reminding You Li that her current physical state was precisely her doing.
You Li, however, seemed unconcerned with her unfinished words. She walked into the room, her steps slower than usual, as if pondering something. She stopped before Su Yu, still looking down at her from above.
“Slow is good. Newborn spiritual power is like a child learning to walk—the faster you go, the easier it is to stumble. Your foundation is damaged, your meridians fragile. Forcing speed will only backfire, even triggering a backlash from the Gu poison. The gain wouldn’t be worth the loss.”
Her tone was flat, as if stating an objective fact, but the content of her words carried a faint hint of… guidance.
Su Yu looked up in surprise, her eyes meeting You Li’s. But You Li shifted her gaze, looking out the window at the eternal crimson slit, her profile blurred in the dim light.
“Back in Qing Yin Pavilion,” You Li’s voice was soft, as if speaking to herself or to Su Yu, “you always complained that my progress was too slow, saying I wasn’t diligent enough. But Master said my foundation was steadier than yours.”
Su Yu’s heart clenched violently. Qing Yin Pavilion… Master… These long-buried memories belonging to “Qing Li,” brought up by You Li in such a matter-of-fact tone, stirred her emotions more intensely than any deliberate torment, leaving her with a tumult of mixed feelings.
You Li seemed to realize she had spoken out of turn, her words cutting off abruptly. The air in the room instantly grew still, leaving only the faint sound of their breathing.
“Continue your cultivation,” she commanded, resuming her authoritative demeanor. “Follow the route I gave you—three minor celestial cycles per day, no more, no less. I will be watching.”
With that, she did not linger, turning and leaving. The hem of her dark robe brushed the ground, stirring an almost imperceptible chill.
The stone door closed once more.
Su Yu sat alone on the bed, unable to collect her thoughts for a long while. The coolness of the ointment on her knees, the faint flow of spiritual power within her, You Li’s words that seemed both like guidance and reminiscence, and that final phrase, “I will be watching”… countless pieces of information clashed and intertwined, making her already chaotic mind even more unsettled.
What exactly did You Li want? Giving her a trace of spiritual power, yet imposing strict limits; appearing to offer guidance, yet maintaining constant surveillance; bringing up the past, only to immediately cover it with coldness…
And that nearly uttered “sister”? Was it a test? Sarcasm? Or… beneath that icy demonic form, was there a lingering trace of attachment?
Su Yu did not know. All she knew was that she felt as though she were walking on an even narrower tightrope, with bottomless chasms on either side. One end of the rope led to complete downfall, becoming the fully tamed “flower” in You Li’s palm; the other end led to a vague, unknown “surprise” that might shatter her to pieces.
Slowly, she clenched her fingers, her nails sinking into the soft velvet of the blanket.
Cultivation had to continue. Even if only for this faint sense of existence, even if the path ahead grew even more shrouded in mist.
She closed her eyes again, took a deep breath, and tried to clear her mind, focusing her consciousness once more on the designated meridians within her body. Guiding that faint, firefly-like spiritual power, she began the second arduous cycle of Zhou Tian.
Sweat beaded on her skin again, the pain in her meridians persisted, and her mental energy was heavily drained.
But this time, beneath the heavy exhaustion and the ever-present sense of surveillance, there seemed to be something more.