The moonlit grove, where Jianyu and Ling'er had emerged from the Moonbone tunnels, offered a brief, unsettling respite. Ling'er, pale but resolute, still clung to his arm, her eyes wide with the shock of her own revelation and the horrors they had witnessed. Jianyu, though physically exhausted and mentally reeling from the absorbed memories of his predecessors, felt a cold, determined focus. He was the Saint of Twisted Roots, a being forged from agony, and his path was clear: vengeance.
His first target was Qianci Yuan. The sect that had welcomed him, bound him, and where Mistress Zhao Hansu had sought to make him her "petal." He still carried the dormant qi seed he had implanted within her, a silent weapon waiting for its moment. And now, armed with the Root Aspect, he could manipulate the very organic structures that made up her sect.
Leaving Ling'er in a secure, hidden location with instructions to remain unseen, Jianyu, manifesting as the male Xu Jianyu, made his way back to Qianci Yuan. The once-sensual gardens now felt corrupted, the sweet perfumes cloying. He sensed a disturbance, a low hum of chaos. The disciples, he realized, had revolted against Hansu's iron control, leaving parts of the sect a smoldering husk. This suited his purpose.
He moved through the burning gardens, the flames licking at the silk banners, consuming the luminous flora. The air was thick with smoke, the screams of fleeing disciples, and the sharp tang of burning spirit-silk. He sought the Garden of Bound Petals, the place where women were trained as pleasure assassins, where their wills were broken and reshaped.
He found it, a circular pavilion now wreathed in smoke and flickering firelight. Three elite mistresses, Hansu's most loyal enforcers, emerged from the inferno, their faces grim, their qi flaring. They recognized him instantly, not as Niánmei, but as the male phantom who had appeared at the Three Petal Trial.
"The Saintbreaker!" one shrieked, her voice a mix of fury and fear. "You dare desecrate this sacred ground!"
Jianyu did not speak. He moved, a blur of dark robes, his Root Aspect humming. The mistresses attacked, using their signature pleasure-assassin techniques—qi-infused seduction, hallucinogenic pheromones, and precise, intimate strikes designed to overwhelm the senses and break the spirit.
He allowed their qi to brush against him, absorbing the patterns, understanding their vulnerabilities. He countered, not with brute force, but with a chilling, intimate precision. As one mistress attempted a qi-breathing technique designed to induce ecstatic paralysis, Jianyu inverted her own qi flow, reversing the energy mid-orgasmic technique. Her eyes widened in horror, her body convulsed, and her heart imploded with a wet, sickening thud.
The second mistress, reeling, tried to unleash a hallucinogenic pheromone cloud. Jianyu, using his Root Aspect, manipulated the very air around her, turning her own pheromones back upon her, amplified and corrupted. She screamed, her mind shattering, and collapsed, writhing in a self-induced nightmare.
The third mistress, terrified, lunged with a spiritual dagger. Jianyu caught her wrist, his grip like iron. He looked into her eyes, and with a cold, internal command, activated the dormant qi seed he had implanted in Hansu, forcing it to resonate with the mistress's own qi. Her body flared, then imploded in a burst of crimson light, leaving only ash.
He continued deeper into the smoldering ruins, following the faint, familiar signature of the dormant qi seed. He found Mistress Zhao Hansu in her personal shrine, a small, untouched sanctuary amidst the chaos. She sat amidst shattered jade and smoldering silk, her face burned and blinded, her once-regal robes torn and singed.
She looked up, her sightless eyes fixed on him, sensing his presence. "You… you came," she whispered, her voice hoarse, broken. "The fire… the betrayal… it all came from within. I deserve this. Kill me. End it."
Jianyu stood over her, his face a mask of cold contemplation. Kill her? No. Death was too easy. He knelt, his hand reaching out, his Root Aspect flaring. He touched her face, and with a silent command, began to heal her. Not just her physical wounds, but her spiritual ones. He erased all traces of her cultivation, stripping her of her power, her authority, her very identity as a cultivator. He made her whole, but empty.
"Live," he said, his voice as Xu Jianyu, cold and clear. "And remember everything you were. Every ambition. Every cruelty. Every loss."
Hansu gasped, her eyes clearing, her vision returning. She stared at her unblemished hands, then at Jianyu, a profound horror dawning in her eyes. She was alive, whole, but a mortal. A ghost of her former self.
Jianyu rose. This was his new policy: to punish by rebirth. He had gained a powerful, dangerous ally in Hansu, one broken and remade by his will. She would serve him, not out of power, but out of a desperate, terrifying gratitude.