"Why are you crying?"
A voice floated through the mist like a seductive breeze—ethereal, soft, and sweet.
"Brother Lei... Brother Lei isn't... dead?" The voice trembled, painted with grief but laced with a hint of desperate hope.
"He's not dead," the voice assured, honeyed and slow. "His organs are severely damaged, his meridians shattered, and his brain has suffered a massive shock. He's merely... unconscious."
"When will he wake up?"
"No one knows. Perhaps a month. Perhaps a year. Perhaps... never. Those struck by the Heaven-Shrouding Palm are already half in the netherworld. Whether the King of Hell decides to return the other half of his life... remains to be seen."
"Heaven-Shrouding Palm? But how—how could Brother Lei be struck by that? He's the second young master of the Carefree Manor! Only his kin know that technique... Why would anyone in his own bloodline want to hurt him? Tell me—please—who did this?!"
"What will you do if I tell you?"
"I will avenge Brother Lei! Whoever hurt him—I swear—I will see them dead, a hundred times over!"
"Hah! A passionate woman, I see... But you're not strong enough. You couldn't even last one move against him. Do you remember Qin Ren? Do you remember what happened when you met him?"
"Yes... I remember. Qin Ren insulted me, so I tried to teach him a lesson... but he knocked me out. When I came to, Brother Lei was... was lying there, broken and bleeding."
"Hehe, poor child. Let me tell you the truth, though speaking it may bring me danger. It was Qin Ren who harmed Qin Lei. He coveted your beauty and wanted to take you while you were unconscious. Qin Lei tried to stop him, and so they fought. Qin Ren, as you know, has mastered one of the Three Forbidden Palms—the Heaven-Shrouding Palm. Your brother had no chance. He fled the city with you in his arms, gravely wounded, and finally collapsed."
"Qin... Ren?"
"Yes, Qin Ren." The voice turned softer, more hypnotic. "Qin Ren lusted for you. Qin Lei tried to protect you. And so Qin Ren nearly killed his own brother. You saw it with your own eyes. Many people in the earthen city did too. The word will spread quickly. Remember it well."
"I... saw it... with my own eyes…"
"Good. Now go. Qin Ren is close behind. His lightness skill is unmatched—you must flee! Head to the Carefree Manor, find Qin Xiaoyao. Only he can protect you now. Remember—you've never met me. Everything you know, you witnessed yourself…"
"Yes... I saw it myself…"
Far above, on the cliff's edge, two black-robed figures stood like shadows made flesh. Only their eyes, gleaming with an eerie, inhuman glint, could be seen beneath their hoods.
The taller one stood at roughly six feet; the other, a few inches shorter. Both gazed at Hua Linglong as she disappeared into the mist, carrying the unconscious Qin Lei.
"Supreme One," the shorter one finally spoke, voice reverent, "forgive my insolence, but... why frame Qin Ren? The third son of the Qin clan is skilled, yes, but not beyond our power to kill outright. And why leave Qin Lei alive? Hua Linglong could've ended him with ease."
"You understand nothing," the taller man said coldly. "If we do not push Qin Ren to the brink of despair, he will never submit to our will. As for Qin Lei, he's already as good as dead. The blow Hua Linglong delivered—that technique—has scattered his soul. His survival is irrelevant. In fact, his half-dead state serves our purpose far better—it will ignite hatred in Hua Linglong, and in Carefree Manor itself. Brother against brother... no clan will tolerate that."
"But why go through so much trouble for a mere Qin Ren? Even if we win him over, we lose the entire Qin clan. Wouldn't it be easier to aid Carefree Manor and eliminate him, curry favor with the family, and pull them under our banner?"
"The Qin clan will never bow to me. But Qin Ren... ah, that boy..."
The Supreme One chuckled darkly.
"Qin Ren is vile. Shameless. Lustful. Lacking in honor. But he possesses a gift not seen in a thousand years—the Asura Demon Eyes. With such a power, properly honed, he could become a living weapon. A one-man army. Have you not noticed? Every fight he enters, he wins. Swiftly. Brutally. No survivors. His eyes break the will of his enemies. His strikes ignore defense. With enough training, he could rival the might of an entire sect."
"The legendary eyes that once bathed the world in blood…" the subordinate whispered. "You are wise beyond compare, Supreme One! Ever since Qin Ren slew the Demon Buu and the Four Heavenly Kings, you've taken a great interest in him. Now I see why—this boy is a sleeping god of slaughter. Your insight cuts through darkness like lightning—nothing escapes your gaze! Your brilliance is a beacon, your wisdom a flood—I stand in awe, as one before the tide of a great river...!"
The Supreme One grinned, basking in the flattery, and raised his head toward the sky, his laughter cold and high.
"Spread the word," he said. "Let the rumors fly. In seven days, I want every ear in the martial world to hear: Qin Ren crippled his own brother to steal a woman. Let the world judge him! Wahahaha!"
Meanwhile, back at the inn...
Third Young Master had just carried the unconscious girl into his room and locked the door behind him. He told Qiao Wei not to disturb him—and meant it.
Qiao Wei, ever curious, pressed his ear against the wall. Hearing nothing interesting, he grabbed a teacup, flipped it over, and used it like a makeshift stethoscope.
Inside, Third Young Master muttered to himself, "Hmm... which medicine to use? No, this one's too potent. She won't handle it... But this one's too mild. Pointless... Which one, which one...?"
Qiao Wei grinned wickedly. So the Young Master has taste after all—knows how to spice up the bedroom. Not like us brutes, charging in blind.
Little did he know, Third Young Master's musings were strictly medical. On the table before him were several vials of high-grade wound medicine.
While he knew a great deal about aphrodisiacs and sleep-inducing powders, he'd never bothered much with healing salves. He knew some were for drinking, some for applying, but which did what? Who could say?
Honestly, with his skills, defenses, and enchanted gear, when had he ever needed healing? The bottles were mostly for show—or for saving the occasional damsel in distress, if he was feeling unusually charitable.
But chivalry wasn't really his thing. "Saving beauties with ulterior motives" was more his style. Saving ugly ones? That'd be true heroism—not something he aspired to.
After some more muttering, he gave up trying to figure it out and decided to wing it. "Ah well. A little on the surface won't kill her."
He approached the bed, inspected the girl carefully. No major injuries—just a bad bruise and a shallow cut near her ankle.
He cleaned the wound, applied the salve, and wrapped it neatly with a bandage. As he finished, his hand lingered on her delicate ankle.
Her shoe and sock were off. Her skin was pale as moonlight, her foot small and flawless, with veins like threads of light-blue silk. Her toes—each a tiny sculpture—were painted with pink nail polish, each toe a blooming lotus.
A soft fragrance wafted from her body. The scent made his pulse quicken.
"Should I just take her now?" he thought, battling his baser instincts. Her chest rose and fell gently with sleep, the soft curves beneath her torn clothing glowing like milk under moonlight. "What would it feel like... to touch...?"
His hand crept higher up her leg.
"I am a flower thief, aren't I?" he reasoned. "I saved this beauty with less-than-noble intentions. Might as well collect the reward in advance. Wahahaha… Someday I'll cleanse the world of flower thieves—leaving only me. Then all the beauties in the world will be mine. Mine to pick. Mine to love. Mine to conquer!"