"Poor wretch."
Li Fei pinched her nose as she walked out of the foul, filthy Demon Boar's cave, while her summoned creatures bustled about, hauling and sorting through the spoils.
The moment Wang Yutong saw her, she beamed and hurried over to strike up a conversation. Qiao'er appeared to be reading, but her sidelong glances kept drifting, deliberately or not, toward the two of them—she couldn't take in a single word on the page.
"You must all be hungry?"
"Let's rest and eat, then," Li Fei said considerately.
"Oh no, it seems we didn't bring any provisions."
Slow on the uptake, Wang Yutong patted her stomach and only then realized they had no food.
Qiao'er, on the other hand, wasn't worried in the least. There were still three carts packed full of goods—the demoness had left without so much as a glance at them, letting the girls bring only some clothing. She surely had a way to solve the matter of food and drink.
"Let me show you a little trick."
Li Fei winked, found an open patch of ground, and casually tossed out an object the size of her palm.
The exquisite, dainty [Pocket Residence] grew in the wind, its volume swelling at an astonishing rate, and it soon transformed into a magnificent villa. Its silhouette was three-dimensional and graceful, its pillars pristine white and slender, exuding a light, romantic beauty utterly unlike the architectural style of the Demon-Sealing Continent.
"This... what kind of divine power is this?"
Watching Li Fei conjure up such a vast, exquisitely crafted residence in the blink of an eye—as if scattering beans to summon soldiers—not just Wang Yutong, but even Qiao'er gaped slightly.
She had long known this demoness was no ordinary being, but this display of ability was simply too inconceivable. Qiao'er, an avid reader, understood that even an Earthly Immortal capable of soaring through the skies and burrowing through the earth likely wouldn't possess such astonishing power.
Could it be... an illusion?
Qiao'er quickly steadied herself and followed the sweetly smiling Li Fei toward the villa. Suddenly she bent down to touch the water in the fountain pool before the door. The cool current washed over her fingertips, and the delicate, real sensation told Qiao'er that this was probably no illusion.
Just who on earth was this demoness?
Qiao'er clenched her fingers, once again recalling the promise Li Fei had once used to bewitch her.
"That stupid pig actually went down so easily."
"I want to keep her hide for my collection."
"We can't stay in this place any longer..."
"Stop your bickering. I want to sleep. Make another sound and I'll eat the lot of you."
In the cold night wind, the whispers of demons drifted about, and gazes—some indifferent, some bloodthirsty—converged upon the low hill.
Over the years, the demons entrenched in this place had not lacked for brutal slaughter, but after the initial chaotic struggles, the survivors had established a primitive, crude order, maintaining contact with one another through various means.
Yet in recent days, one uninvited guest after another had barged in, throwing this deathly stagnant place into disorder.
Faced with the mysterious being that had appeared out of nowhere and slain the Demon Boar in an instant, the demons held differing attitudes, but in the end they all, without any prior agreement, chose to lie low.
Because those most violent, most savage neighbors of theirs had already fallen beneath that man's sword.
A dozen or so li from the low hill, a company of men and horses lay hidden by a stream.
Among them were eight fierce, formidable figures in python robes—living Kings of Hell—wolfing down rice and cured meat, the aroma of the meat making the ravenous prisoners beside them swallow their saliva without cease.
Unless a mission was especially time-sensitive or demanded a high degree of stealth, bringing condemned prisoners along on assignments was something of an old tradition for the Demon Suppression Bureau.
For one, these condemned prisoners could handle menial chores—feeding the horses, setting up camp, washing clothes, satisfying certain... spiritual needs, and so on. For another, when danger struck, the prisoners could be used as stones to test the waters; and should the Demon Suppression Bureau's forces decide to retreat, they could order the prisoners to stay behind as a rearguard—the scent of the living was enough to slow the bloodthirsty demons' advance. It was, in a sense, putting them to full use.
The eight members of the Demon Suppression Bureau had set out with thirty condemned prisoners; now only thirteen remained.
Not many had died at the hands of demons. Of the rest, aside from those who had fallen to their deaths, died of illness, or taken their own lives, all had died at the hands of the Demon Suppression Bureau. After all, when the lords were in a foul mood, it was perfectly normal to beat and punish the prisoners to vent their frustration; if one died, it could only be blamed on their own wretched luck—as for the source of fresh prisoners, there was no need to worry. Weren't there plenty out on the streets?
A county magistrate had to follow procedure to sentence someone to death, but the Demon Suppression Bureau did not.
"How much longer do we have to stay in this godforsaken place?"
A bearded man in a brown robe grumbled, "Why the hell does that son of a bitch Lü Zhengchun get to live it up in comfort back there..."
"Well, who told him to go and claim himself such a fine father?"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a colleague chimed in with a snide, mocking tone.
"If you can't hold your tongue, you may cut it off yourself, before you bring disaster down on your family. Is Nine Thousand Years someone a piece of trash like you can gossip about?"
An effeminate voice drifted over, instantly silencing them.
The man who had spoken wore a dark red python robe and had soft, effeminate features.
His skin was very fair, and he wore powder and rouge on his face. One hand was raised in a delicate orchid-finger gesture as he dabbed his mouth with a handkerchief, while the other held a wooden vanity case, using the mirror inside to examine his face from every angle. His upturned phoenix eyes were as cold and sinister as a snake's.
"Lord Xu, please calm your anger. I won't dare do it again."
The Demon Suppression Bureau member, knowing he had misspoken, immediately reined in his smile and bowed his head in apology.
"Just remember it better in the future. After all, I'm not some harsh, ungrateful sort."
Xu Qianfu waved his hand, and an invisible surge of force rippled out. A woman with a pretty face and hollow eyes suddenly began vomiting blood uncontrollably, clutching her chest as she collapsed to the ground. Her legs kicked a few times, and then she went still.
She had been the last surviving woman among the condemned prisoners; the rest were all strapping men. They dragged the woman's corpse away with practiced ease, their faces numb, no different from walking corpses.
"Still, that Tree Demon will be breaking through its barrier any day now, so you'd all best rest and conserve your energy. Don't squander your strength on useless things—if you delay the matter at hand, mind that you might lose your heads."
Xu Qianfu instructed unhurriedly, "Little Fifth, there was a disturbance ten li out just now. If I recall correctly, that should be the Demon Boar's territory. Go and scout it out."
"Yes, my lord."
The bearded man respectfully accepted the order, then hesitated a moment before asking, "If the chance arises, should I..."
"Killing is fine too."
Xu Qianfu's gaze remained fixed on the mirror, studying his own face over and over, as though he could never look enough:
"In any case, with that man there, there's no way the Tree Demon will fall into the demons' hands."
"Understood."
The bearded man accepted the order, his figure vanishing into the darkness.
Three women slipped off their embroidered shoes—one red, one white, one pink. Silk stockings wrapped their jade-like feet as they stepped onto the soft carpet, each dainty step trailing fragrance.
"This couch is softer than deerskin..."
Wang Yutong looked all around the room, now stroking the sofa, now examining the fireplace, finding everything full of novelty.
Qiao'er, however, seemed a little uneasy. She noticed that the beige silk stockings the Wang family had issued her had a small hole in them, with a sweat stain besides, exposing a bit of snow-tender skin, her slender toes curling anxiously.
Clearly, even a beautiful young girl couldn't stay sweet-smelling on a scorching day. Although Qiao'er had spent most of her time sitting in the carriage, the compartment had been just as stiflingly hot, so when she removed her pink embroidered shoes, she discovered the tear in her stockings, and the smell of sweat rose up along with the heat, the crevices between the sole of her foot and her toe joints still damp—even Li Fei, before being remade by Miss System, would never have dared to wear boots in summer, or to take off her sneakers in front of her girlfriend after gym class. Otherwise the scene would have turned quite awkward; the intense odor would have far exceeded the threshold of "adding to the mood."
By comparison, Wang Yutong was much better off. For one, she had been raised as a tool for a marriage alliance, soaking in countless medicinal baths from a young age and having her constitution tuned with all sorts of medicinal cuisine. For another, the young Miss Wang was used to being waited on by servants and didn't much care about how others felt.
Fortunately, Qiao'er quickly adjusted her mindset, her attention drawn to an oil painting on the wall.
But only a few seconds later, she suddenly felt something warm and soft gently cover the top of her foot. A current of heat spread from the skin of her foot all the way to her heart, leaving Qiao'er's whole body a little weak and her mind reeling.
"Oops, I accidentally stepped on you. It doesn't hurt, does it?"
The demoness had of course noticed Qiao'er's embarrassment, and so she teased her just a little.
Sure enough, Qiao'er's face flushed. Her feet—small and delicate like the rest of her—shrank back like a startled little white rabbit, and the demoness's own bare foot, slender and jade-carved, gleaming white and graceful, came into Qiao'er's view.
Qiao'er had no special fetishes, but there was not a single part of the demoness that wasn't beautiful—even the strands of her hair carried a thousand charms. If she could bring a listless pillow princess to life, then naturally she could also leave an unforgettable impression of her feet upon a naive young girl—back when she was making her push for Witch of Bliss, at least several dozen sprites had fallen at her feet.
"It-it's nothing."
Qiao'er feigned composure, wishing her skirt hem were longer to cover the little hole in her stockings, yet the sensation from just moments ago—when tootsie snuggled against tootsie, soft and boneless, warm and hot against her skin—lingered in her heart, refusing to fade.
If it was like this even through the stockings, then without that barrier, wouldn't it be...
Qiao'er dug her fingertips into her palm, trying to subdue her restless, wandering heart.
"Do you like this painting?"
the demoness went on.
The furniture and ornaments inside the Pocket Residence had all been compressed along with the house by spatial laws, and their quality was quite fine—but Li Fei had dumped all her aesthetic points into her looks and wasn't particularly interested in art.
Had she not been afraid of embarrassing herself, she would rather have swapped out all the oil paintings for the sort of pictures her stepdaughter kept secretly stashed away in her spatial ring.
"Mm... I sense vitality, and the painter's love of life..."
Qiao'er nodded, answering truthfully.
Li Fei glanced again at the somewhat abstract lines and colors, then decisively changed the subject:
"It's a bit hot today, and I've worked up quite a sweat... Let's take a bath and change into clean clothes before we eat."
Qiao'er froze for a moment, her eyelids lowering, and answered in a voice as faint as a mosquito's hum:
"Thank you."
...
Glug, glug...
Five packs of braised beef noodles were boiling in the pot, with every seasoning added except the vegetable packets, and a savory aroma filled the entire room.
The glistening red broth bubbled endlessly, steam billowing up, with leafy greens, chunks of meat, and meatballs tumbling about in the soup.
Although the Pocket Residence couldn't store extraordinary items, its five-ton capacity was more than enough for daily necessities. Of the various sodas and instant noodles Tingbao had delivered, Li Fei had brought a full two tons this time; and since all manner of extraordinary items could be purchased directly from the System Store, Li Fei was completely free of any worries on the supply front.
"What kind of noodles are these? They smell so good!"
Wang Yutong, now changed into a nightdress, sniffed the aroma from the pot, her expression that of someone whose appetite had been thoroughly whetted.
"A specialty from my hometown—I guarantee one taste and you'll never forget it."
As Li Fei spoke, she scooped up eggs one-handed and cracked them against the edge of the table—crack, crack, crack—dropping them one by one into the pot.
As everyone knows, boiled instant noodles and steeped instant noodles are two entirely different things. Though they grow cloying if eaten too often, the occasional taste is truly an unforgettable delicacy—and eaten late at night, the deliciousness doubles.
After waiting a while longer, Li Fei personally fished out three bowls of noodles, each crowned with a half-cooked egg. A gentle poke of the chopsticks and the honey-like runny yolk would come flowing out—these were, of course, eggs sterilized through a special process, so there was no need to worry about safety.
Wang Yutong hurriedly took her bowl and, heedless of scalding her mouth, kept shoveling the noodles in.
This young mistress, accustomed to fine clothes and exquisite food, normally started her meals with twelve dishes, at least eleven of which went to waste—yet now she cradled her bowl and ate with relish, clearly genuinely hungry.
Qiao'er's manner of eating remained refined; she always blew on the noodles first, waiting until they were less hot before eating them in small bites. Judging by her focused expression, she too had clearly been won over by the charm of instant noodles.
Li Fei, of course, didn't stand on ceremony either. Her bowl was the biggest, topped with a full four eggs; she casually poked two of them apart with her chopsticks before loudly slurping up the noodles coated in half-cooked yolk.
Before long, a whole pot of noodles had gone down. The two freshly bathed guests had a thin sheen of sweat beading once more on their foreheads as they set down their bowls and chopsticks, somewhat reluctant for it to end.
Li Fei was already leisurely sipping her noodle broth, with no intention of adding more—not because she was stingy, but because with a food like instant noodles, the moment when you're "just a little short of full" is the most delicious; any more, and it loses its charm.
"I've never eaten anything so delicious."
Wang Yutong marveled, her lips lush and enticing, her sweat-dampened cheeks slightly flushed, looking sweet and alluring—a pity her soul was so utterly dull.
"Hunger is the best seasoning."
Li Fei chatted a few words with a faint smile, then abruptly shifted her tone: "You're all tired today, so get some rest early."
"Little Qiao'er, go ahead and pick any room to stay in."
"Sister Yutong, I felt an instant kinship with you—why don't the two of us share a bed tonight and have a nice, intimate heart-to-heart?"
—?
Just as Wang Yutong's brows lifted with unexpected elation, Qiao'er's eyelids quivered and her heart abruptly sank.
Over these past two days, the demoness had treated her exceedingly kindly, and on the very first night they'd met, she had made that sort of frivolous promise.
Qiao'er had rejected the demoness's temptation and had always harbored doubts about her motives—especially after deducing that the Wang family's entrapment during their flight was most likely the work of the demoness pulling the strings behind the scenes, Qiao'er held a wariness toward her that she couldn't shake.
Yet to say Qiao'er felt not the slightest secret delight in her heart would be a lie.
Even though her family had fallen into ruin when she was young and she had become a maidservant, tasting the full measure of human warmth and coldness, and knew well the principle that a pie falling from the sky is bound to be poisoned—still, when such a dazzling, radiant woman repeatedly took the initiative to show her favor, even promising to help her obtain power and wealth... anyone at all would inevitably let their mind wander.
Yet at this moment, with just two careless remarks, Li Fei had made Qiao'er's heart clench tight.
—Could it be that those words of hers were merely said in passing? That she approached me for the young mistress's sake all along?
Hah, of course. This demoness has a beauty that could topple cities and kingdoms, and she's powerful, with astonishing means—why on earth would she throw herself into my arms? I really was just flattering myself after all.
—But, but she clearly...
For a moment, the ever calm and composed Qiao'er was in an utter tangle, not even noticing that the demoness was watching her, chin propped on one hand.
When all was said and done, Qiao'er was nothing more than a naive, callow girl of sixteen. No matter how pure and refined her heart, how could she possibly withstand Miss Top Courtesan's Art of Tea?
Without realizing it, she had fallen into the PUA spiderweb that Miss Top Courtesan had quietly woven, agonizing over Li Fei's careless words, fretting over every gain and loss.
Breaching a maiden's heart in two days—because I am Loxibrook.
Li Fei savored the pitiful, heart-stirring expression of sorrow that hung unconsciously on Qiao'er's face, her lips curving into a pleased arc.
Though she had yet to set foot into Sequence 6, she had, ever so faintly, touched upon the true essence of the [Witch of Distortion].
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