The sound of his hand striking her face echoed like a whip across the silent chamber.
Xuānluò's scream tore the air, raw and broken, his voice no longer carrying the eerie mockery from before. Instead, it was filled with grief, the kind of grief that could crush mountains and drown oceans.
"HOW COULD YOU FORGET IT?!"
It was not simply anger. It was the cry of a man betrayed.
The cry of a father robbed.
The cry of a lover watching his world collapse in front of his very eyes.
His entire being trembled as he shouted, but his face—his beautiful, once-gentle face—remained stone. His eyes burned with a sorrow so deep it seemed bottomless, yet no tears escaped. He did not allow himself the mercy of tears.
Shěnhuī stared at him, stunned. Her cheek throbbed with fire from the slap, her right eye turning bloodshot, vision blurred. She had thought—naïvely, perhaps arrogantly—that her words and crocodile tears could sway him as always. She thought she could still twist his heart with the mask she wore so well.
But that blow, and the desperate scream that followed, taught her a brutal truth:
lies could not save her this time.
Her lips trembled. She wanted to protest, to argue, but her voice was stolen by the suffocating presence before her. Xuānluò's aura pressed down like the weight of a thousand storms. The man who had once been her safe harbor was now the fire that threatened to consume her alive.
He rose slowly to his feet, and when his gaze met hers, her body went cold.
His eyes… there was no white left. No jade-green softness. Not even the crimson flicker from moments before. Only pure black remained, endless, devouring—like the abyss itself had taken root in his soul.
A sigh left his lips, heavy, lifeless.
"I should… tear you away to them. Let them strip your flesh from your bones."
The way he spoke it—so calm, so certain—made her stomach twist with dread.
"Th-them…?"
She realized immediately. He meant the Special Grade Yaos , beings who loathed women beyond reason, especially those who carried the stench of betrayal. If he truly abandoned her to them, her end would not simply be death—it would be agony drawn out until nothing remained of her soul.
Her heart seized, and for the first time, she wondered if this was truly the end.
Xuānluò's voice trembled, and for a fleeting instant, it was not rage but sorrow that seeped through. His shoulders shook, his lips curling downward as if even breathing was pain.
"Since I can't kill you with my own hands… because—im cursed—I loved that 'you.' I loved her like a fool. And this fool… still…"
His voice cracked. His throat choked on blackened blood, spilling from the corners of his lips. The dark stain spread across his green sleeve as he wiped at it, trembling.
The sight froze Shěnhuī's breath. In that moment, she realized the gravity of her crime—not just in betrayal but in destroying the man who had once been willing to burn the world for her.
Her chest tightened painfully. Panic clawed at her lungs. With a strangled sob, she fell to her knees and crawled toward him. Her pride shattered, her dignity gone. She clung desperately to his feet, staining his robes with her tears and blood.
"P-please, Xuān… don't do this to me! Y-you love me, don't you? Please don't cast me to them!"
Her words spilled between gasps and hiccups, her body shaking violently.
"I'll be good! I'll do whatever you say! I—I am your sons' mother, aren't I? Don't they need me? Please, don't let anger destroy us! We… we can fix everything! Just—give me another chance, Xuānluò! Please!"
She wept harder, gripping him so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her sobs filled the air, broken and pitiful.
And for a long, suffocating silence, he did nothing.
Then, slowly, Xuānluò's hand lowered. His fingers brushed gently against her hair, almost tenderly. Her breath hitched in fear and hope at once. Would he strike her again? Or… forgive?
She dared to lift her gaze.
His face was unreadable—calm, still, terrifying in its emptiness.
"Yes… my dear. A lover… a mother of a man's children… can be forgiven."
Her heart leapt. Her lips parted, ready to cling to this fragile lifeline of hope—
Until his voice cut again, sharp, final, colder than death.
"But… a lover, or mother of a man's children… CANNOT BE FORGIVEN IF THE CRIME IS BETRAYAL."
The tone shifted like a blade plunging into her chest. Her blood froze. Before she could react, his hand shot to her throat. His fingers closed around her windpipe, iron-hard, and lifted her from the ground.
Her wings fluttered weakly, broken, sending knives of pain through her back. Her legs kicked helplessly. Her hands clawed at his wrist, but the grip only tightened.
"X… Xuān…!!"
Her voice rasped, desperate, strangled.
But his words drowned her pleas.
"Two hundred and ninety years of betrayal… can never be erased. Not by me. Not by ANY man! And you—shameless! To ask for mercy even now?! You've left me no choice!"
His jade eyes—once so gentle—were now abyssal, burning with hatred and grief.
"You are nothing but a crocodile with a pretty mouth. I HATE you!"
He roared, his voice reverberating through the walls, rattling the bookshelves around them.
Before she could utter another word, he dragged her violently toward the far wall. Books scattered as he slammed his palm against a hidden section. With a grinding sound, a secret door slid open, revealing a dark, narrow chamber behind it.
Shěnhuī's eyes widened in shock. She had lived here, slept here, shared countless nights with him—yet she never knew this place existed.
"No—wait—!!" she choked, but her voice was too weak.
Xuānluò's face twisted with torment, but his actions did not falter. With one brutal motion, he hurled her inside. She stumbled and fell hard to the ground, coughing violently.
She scrambled toward the door, her hands reaching out, but he pushed it closed with merciless force.
Her fingernails clawed at the crack as the darkness swallowed her whole.
The last thing she heard before silence devoured her world was his voice—low, broken, final:
"Stay here… until I bring them. Then… they will feast on you."
And the door sealed shut.