The wild, churning demonic qi in his body vanished in an instant.
The emptiness in his dantian took him back to the days when he was still a starving beggar—weak, helpless, and powerless.
A wave of sheer panic crashed over him. He was still under Song Wanníng's foot. Without his demonic qi, this situation was nearly fatal.
Qi Xiezi lifted his head in horror and stared at her. "You tampered with something?"
"Hmm?" Song Wanníng arched her brow. "That's not quite right. You were the one who ate the rabbit. You also took the antidote yourself. So how exactly did I tamper with anything?"
She smiled sweetly, her expression innocent and carefree. But Qi Xiezi couldn't help but shudder.
"You—when did you figure it out? What did I do wrong?"
He genuinely couldn't understand. From the moment they met, he'd been careful. Even when she wasn't around, he stayed in character, afraid she might suddenly appear and catch him slipping.
After following her out of the city, he never once slacked off. He'd committed to the act so deeply that even he nearly believed it. He thought he had everything under control. But now, it was clear—he had walked into his own trap.
Looking into Qi Xiezi's resentful, confused eyes, Song Wanníng's smile deepened. She tilted her head and asked casually, "Did the person behind you even tell you my name?"
Because anyone who knew her identity would never have used something as stupid as an aphrodisiac.
Qi Xiezi blinked. His cheek scraped against the dirt, already going numb.
"You're not… Meng Xiao?"
He still had a portrait of her in his storage pouch. The name written beneath it was Meng Xiao.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but you've been lied to."
Song Wanníng leisurely tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "My name is Song Wanníng, a Divine Transformation cultivator from the Wentiān Sect."
She stopped hiding her cultivation. The immense pressure belonging to a Divine Transformation stage cultivator surged outward, crashing down upon Qi Xiezi like a tidal wave.
In that moment, it felt like an invisible hand had clamped around his throat. He couldn't breathe. His limbs trembled uncontrollably. Bones creaked under the pressure, sounding like they might shatter at any second.
If the gap between late-stage Golden Core and early-stage Nascent Soul was like a river to a sea, then the difference between peak Nascent Soul and early Divine Transformation was the distance between earth and sky.
The higher the cultivation, the harder the chasm was to cross.
This was precisely why, even though the Wentiān Sect had many Nascent Soul cultivators, it had still lost its standing as a top sect.
Because there was no comparison between Nascent Soul and Divine Transformation.
"Ghhh—"
Foam began to leak from Qi Xiezi's mouth. His face twisted, turning purple with lack of air. At that moment, he thought he saw his great-grandmother's ghost waving to him. Maybe he'd go down in history as the first Nascent Soul cultivator to be suffocated to death.
Just as despair fully took hold, the overwhelming pressure suddenly lifted like a receding tide.
"Cough! Cough cough—!"
Air rushed into his lungs. He coughed violently, like he was about to hack up an entire lung.
But the foot on his head remained firmly in place.
After a long bout of coughing, Qi Xiezi finally started to feel alive again. He lay limp like a fish stranded on dry land, too weak to move a single muscle. He stared dumbly at the hem of her robe, mind ringing with one name: Song Wanníng.
Who was Song Wanníng?
She was the famed alchemist who became a grandmaster during the Golden Core stage!
Everyone had heard her name.
And that bastard had dared to lie to him?
Unforgivable!!!
Rage surged through Qi Xiezi. His fists clenched tight as killing intent boiled across his body. If he ever got the chance, he swore to trap that person inside his Soul-Banner and torment them for eternity. He gritted his teeth, seething with hatred.
At that moment, Song Wanníng leaned down slightly. Her flawless, striking face drew close.
The moment her eyes—bright as galaxies—locked onto his, Qi Xiezi felt his scalp tingle. His instincts screamed.
She wasn't here to flirt.
Within those starry eyes, whirlpools churned silently.
Then her voice, soft as feathers, drifted out.
"Do you want to die alone… or take the one behind you with you?"
That gentle tone was laced with ice, cold enough to pierce bone.
Qi Xiezi forced out a pitiful smile. "I… I don't suppose… there's an option where I don't die?"
Song Wanníng raised her brows and grinned, wide and unhinged.
"Nope."
That single word sealed his fate.
Qi Xiezi's heart sank, but he still tried to plead.
"Senior, I was blind, I didn't recognize a true expert when I saw one. Please, spare this dog's life!
I was forced into this. They threatened me, I had no choice!
If you let me go, I'll serve you loyally from now on. If that's not enough, make a soul contract with me! I'll be your dog, do whatever you say!" He had long since cast aside dignity. In the cruel world of cultivation, he'd crawled through filth just to survive.
Whatever it took, he would do it—so long as he could live.
But his desperate submission didn't shake Song Wanníng in the slightest.
In her past life, he had not only forced her into dangerous territory, but slaughtered an entire village and framed her for it.
She wondered—when those villagers begged for their lives, did he show even an ounce of pity?
When he poisoned others in cold blood, had he ever hesitated?
Of course not.
Still…
Song Wanníng's lips curved slightly. She finally lifted her foot from his head.
"Whether you're worthy to be my dog… depends on how useful you are."
Qi Xiezi immediately understood and lifted his head with excitement.
Then, without hesitation, he barked twice. "Woof! Woof!"
Song Wanníng: "…"
Her eye twitched. This guy really had no shame.
"I want you to bring the person behind this out into the open.
If you fail…" She flicked her wrist, and the Soul-Banner flew into her hand.
Her voice turned icy. "Then I'll refine your soul and bind it into this banner."
The souls within were already tortured daily by hellfire, their minds broken beyond repair. Only this level of agony could fuel enough resentment to make the banner truly dangerous.
Among demon cultivators, Soul-Banners were common weapons—so common that nearly everyone had one. And they were utterly despised.
Qi Xiezi knew this all too well. When he heard her threat, he trembled violently. nHe'd rather die now than have his soul sealed into that thing. But he was far too afraid of death. That's why he had become a demon cultivator in the first place.
So he didn't hesitate. He nodded eagerly.
"Mistress—no, I mean, Master! Master, don't worry. I'll bring the target straight to you!"
He forced a greasy smile. "Just… please go easy on me later. I only want to survive."
"Heh heh."
The groveling made her want to avert her eyes.
Song Wanníng really had a hard time believing this pathetic worm was a Nascent Soul cultivator.
"We'll see how you perform."
She left him a shred of hope.
Qi Xiezi's grin widened. Even if the odds were slim, he had to try.
And truthfully, he now hated that other person as much as he feared Song Wanníng. If it weren't for them, he wouldn't be in this mess. If he was going to die anyway… he'd drag that bastard down with him.