The Villainess Always Tries to Seduce Me - Chapter 16

Her movements were too swift. By the time Yun Chuanzhi reacted, it was already over. The woman stepped back, leaving Yun Chuanzhi’s shoulders bathed once more in the scorching sunlight she had blocked.

“In consideration of your role in securing this last sliver of Divine Power for me, I’ll spare you the whip,” Bai Fenghuo said, stretching her shoulders with satisfaction. “Thank you.”

With that, her form vanished into the azure sky. Cheng Jinshu, who had witnessed everything, cautiously approached, clutching her staff.

“Are you… alright?”

“I’m fine,” Yun Chuanzhi replied, shaking her head. She wasn’t a naive teenager anymore; she could endure this much.

After all, she had been facing Bai Fenghuo, a notorious villain known far and wide. How could she have expected her to open her Spirit Root so easily? She should have known better.

Whatever. Let it all burn.

I’d rather go back to my room and sleep.

Fortunately, Cheng Jinshu was kind-hearted. Seeing Yun Chuanzhi had been tricked, she didn’t press further and even used her Wind Manipulation Technique to return her to the Kun Dan Sect. However, due to her injuries, the return journey was even more unstable than the trip there.

Yun Chuanzhi tumbled through the clouds a hundred times before finally landing at the entrance of Spring Encounter Pavilion, dizzy and disoriented. She was too exhausted to even offer a proper thank you, collapsing onto her bed the moment she reached her room and falling into a deep, dream-filled slumber.

His sleep was long and restless, her dreams a chaotic jumble of long-forgotten memories from her time in Avici City.

The sky was overcast with dark clouds, an eerie green miasma swirling through the air. The once-blue heavens now resembled a moldy block of tofu, its stench hanging heavy overhead.

A torrential acid rain had just ceased, corroding the years-old bloodstains on the ground into blackened patches. Ruins and rubble stretched as far as the eye could see, save for a relatively intact temple crammed with shivering people.

Yun Chuanzhi, still a child at the time, huddled in her mother’s warm embrace, hiding behind a toppled Buddha statue. She clutched a mud-stained, ice-cold steamed bun in her hands, her mouth agape, yet unwilling to take a bite.

The temple reeked from overcrowding, and upon closer inspection, one could spot crushed limbs swept into the corners.

In Avici City, no one believed in Buddha, nor did they seek divine intervention. The gods and Buddhas could neither save them nor even see them.

“Eat quickly, Yun’er,” her mother whispered from behind, her voice hoarse as if she had just been crying, tears still streaming down her face. “Someone might snatch it away again.”

Yun Chuanzhi lowered her head and took a bite. The dry, hard bun felt like it would crack her teeth, but her gnawing hunger made it taste delicious.

She took a larger bite, her mother’s tears dripping onto her fluffy nape and soaking into her hair.

“Mom, half for you,” Yun Chuanzhi mumbled, tearing off the larger portion and pressing it into her mother’s outstretched hand, her mouth full. “Where’s Dad?”

Her mother remained silent, her sobs intensifying. Only then did Yun Chuanzhi dimly recall that her father had been beaten to death by a group of desperate women while trying to retrieve this bun for her.

Now, with the acid rain falling, even her body had vanished.

The young Yun Chuanzhi didn’t yet understand grief. A full stomach was already a blessing. But the grown Yun Chuanzhi knew better. Moonlight dappled the bed as the girl’s body lay shrouded in blankets, her sobs choking her in her dreams.

Perhaps from crying so hard in her dream, Yun Chuanzhi woke the next morning with a heavy weight pressing on her heart. She touched the damp bamboo pillow beside her ear and couldn’t help but smile bitterly.

The faint morning light streamed through the cracks in the window, scattering across the room. Outside, two birds sang to each other. Soon, when the sun rose, the scene would burst into vibrant life.

It had been ages since she’d dreamed of her childhood, not even during her time in Avici City. Why, now that she’d been reborn in the Qianyuan Realm, was she suddenly so sentimental?

Maybe people become like this once they’re comfortable, Yun Chuanzhi thought, yawning widely as she rolled over and slipped her feet into her shoes.

Judging by the sky, it was already past Mao Hour (5-7 AM). She needed to hurry to Bai Fenghuo’s door to avoid another scolding. Bending down to put on her shoes, she suddenly remembered yesterday’s events.

The Divine Power she had finally obtained, meant to awaken her Spirit Root, had been stolen by Bai Fenghuo.

This proved that resentment in the heart doesn’t fade with time; instead, it festers and grows. Yun Chuanzhi glared at the patches of sunlight on the floor, her anger surging. Imagining them as Bai Fenghuo’s face, she stomped down hard twice.

Then she turned and flopped back onto the bed.

This is too much! she thought. I quit! Let some other scum serve this bastard!

Meanwhile, in Bai Fenghuo’s chambers at Spring Encounter Pavilion, the massive window stood wide open. Several early-blooming peach branches reached through the window, their delicate blossoms crowding together. A gentle breeze scattered petals across the polished floor, yet the branches remained laden with flowers.

From the window, the woman’s bare back seemed to merge with the floral clusters, both delicate and pale.

The previous day’s heat had prompted her to dress lightly, wearing only a pale pink undergarment. Her long arm dangled over the edge of the bed, fingertips brushing against a fallen petal.

Touched by this Immortal’s touch, the petal stirred without wind, floated out the window, and transformed into a spirit creature invisible to mortal eyes. It hopped away, disappearing into the mountain forest.

The sound of the spirit’s escape startled Bai Fenghuo awake. Her willow-leaf eyes lazily opened, the drowsiness fading from her pale irises as she slowly sat up.

“Someone come here,” she called out.

After a long silence, her brow furrowed with displeasure. Ever since Cui Ergou had been assigned to serve her, she hadn’t been able to get a morning cup of tea even once.

Bai Fenghuo, displeased, stepped barefoot onto the floor. She casually tossed her outer robe over her shoulders, then raised her palm slightly. With a poof, Yun Chuanzhi, who had been sleeping soundly under the covers, materialized before him.

Yun Chuanzhi had long anticipated being summoned. Startled awake, she showed no surprise, simply rolled over, turning her back to Bai Fenghuo.

Bai Fenghuo stared at her movement, momentarily stunned.

“What time is it? Why are you still asleep?” Bai Fenghuo frowned.

In her century of life, she had never encountered such a brazen Immortal Servant. This was truly an eye-opening experience.

When Yun Chuanzhi remained silent, Bai Fenghuo’s anger flared. Her voice turned icy. “Dare to ignore this venerable one? Are you courting death, or do you think I truly won’t kill you?”

“Then kill me,” Yun Chuanzhi replied, her eyes tightly shut, her body curled into a ball, clutching the withered blanket to her chest.

Bai Fenghuo’s gaze drifted to the slender nape of her neck, visible through her disheveled hair, then to her painfully thin waist. The petite girl seemed genuinely resigned to death, her voice devoid of any tremor.

She appeared utterly composed, yet utterly… pitiful.

Bai Fenghuo rarely felt pity for others. Many would feign helplessness to save their lives, but no matter how pitifully they wept or how heartrendingly they pleaded, she could always see through their false sincerity.

Yet the girl huddled before her now genuinely stirred a flicker of compassion within her.

“Enough with the act,” Bai Fenghuo said, her voice sharp. “This venerable one has no time for your tantrums.” A surge of irritation rose within her. She reached out, then retracted her hand, and Yun Chuanzhi’s body jerked upward as if bound by invisible ropes.

With a final spin, Yun Chuanzhi’s neck landed in Bai Fenghuo’s palm, held in a loose grip.

The woman’s fragrance filled Yun Chuanzhi’s nostrils, but the five fingers around her neck exerted no pressure. “You’re just a lowly Immortal Servant,” Bai Fenghuo said. “How dare you throw a tantrum with this venerable one? Have I been too lenient with you?”

Yun Chuanzhi hadn’t been throwing a tantrum; she simply didn’t want to live. But Bai Fenghuo’s words reminded her that she hadn’t truly lost her temper with anyone in either of her lives.

And Bai Fenghuo’s actions the previous day certainly warranted a proper outburst.

Sniffling, Yun Chuanzhi let tears spill from her eyes. Perhaps because she had cried so much in her dream the night before, her sorrow now surged forth uncontrollably. Tears flowed endlessly, dripping onto Bai Fenghuo’s hand.

The sticky, wet sensation sent a shiver through Bai Fenghuo. She involuntarily loosened her grip, and the audacious girl slid to the ground, burying her face in her hands and weeping loudly once more.

“If you don’t shut up, I swear I’ll kill you!”

“I’m going to strike now!”

“I…” Bai Fenghuo’s voice trailed off mid-sentence, her energy spent. Only a dripping, onion-like finger remained raised in a feeble threat before it, too, finally drooped.

Threatening death against someone who fears nothing is futile. For the first time, Bai Fenghuo felt utterly helpless, biting her crimson lip in frustration.

Hearing the commotion, Ling Shui outside couldn’t resist knocking. Bai Fenghuo unleashed her fury on her: “Get lost! Don’t disturb me!”

Silence fell instantly outside. Bai Fenghuo, her head throbbing from Yun Chuanzhi’s incessant wailing, waved her hand to banish her, but once again, her Immortal Arts failed to work.

Ever since this little slave appeared, everything had descended into chaos, yet she couldn’t even touch her. Suppressing her rage, Bai Fenghuo leaned down and clamped her hand over Yun Chuanzhi’s mouth, finally silencing her sobs.

Tears streamed down the girl’s face, clinging to her long, delicate lashes like dewdrops.

Her warm breath, mingled with the damp air, brushed against Bai Fenghuo’s palm, sending an unexpected tickle through her heart. With her free hand, she tugged at her collar, covering the exposed rise and fall of her chest.

“Enough. Stop crying,” she sighed, resigned. “It’s just a Spirit Root. I’ll open it for you myself.”