150 Untitled (2/2)

He could not leave a trace. Otherwise, once that paranoid old fellow found out, it would be another round of questioning… and…

His hand gradually stopped as the color drained off his face. His breath sped up as traumatizing memories washed over him. Those pale white and blood-red, the rotten scent and meandering moments, those happy days with unbearably painful nights.

These memories shook him to the core as he held back the waves of pain.

Yan Jingchen sat there blankly. The sun rays, broken up by the blinds in the carriage, reflected on his pale face. He lowered his hand until it finally landed on Meng Fuyao face.

He caressed her brows, her beautiful eyes and those elegant lips with such gentleness and carefulness. It was as though he was determined to carve this long desired beauty into the bottom of his heart, with his fingers eagerly memorizing every inch of her face.

'Fuyao, as you traveled around Seven Kingdoms, as you raked up achievements in Wuji, as you walked towards the honorable stage of the Seven Kingdoms with much splendor, have you ever thought that someone out there would give up everything to catch up to you, to get you?'

Fallen into despair as he sacrificed himself to the devil, with no hope of salvation for eternity.

The carriage rocked ever so slightly as the bamboo blinds crackled. The emerald green from between the blinds came from the nature that surrounded them. The clean and fresh air outside, the soil of mother nature, the gentle sun rays and the cooling rain — these were all things that he could never have again.

Yan Jingchen smiled.

A young sect leader, practicing in the Stirring Thunder Technique, his name sweeping across Shangyuan, world-renowned.

There was nothing but glory in all of these.

But who could see the struggles and sacrifices he had made?

He laughed, an unbridled laugh in a silent yet almost manic manner.

In that broken laugher were pearls of tears dripping onto Meng Fuyao's face.

Yan Jingchen did not stay in the inn that Tiansha had arranged for people participating in the True Martial Arts Meet. Instead, he stayed in a mansion owned by Zhan Beiheng given the close relations Zhan Beiheng had with the Mystic Essence Sword Sect. Ever since Yan Jingchen became the sect leader, the relations got even closer as it was managed by the couple. Zhan Beiheng was always eager to be on good terms with the various royals that practiced martial arts such as this couple.

Yan Jingchen entered from the back door and headed straight for a cellar. Before he headed down, he asked his servant, ”Where is my wife?”

”My lady came back after her competition but was immediately invited to view flowers by Prince Heng,” he replied. ”Sir Sang has ordered you to meet him once you are back.”

Yan Jingchen froze. After a moment, he managed to croak out an ”mhm”. He headed down to the cellular. In that dark cellular, the only thing lacking was light as all basic amenities like a bed and table were present. Yan Jingchen carefully laid Meng Fuyao down and took away her dagger. From his sleeves, he took out a thick black chain and chained her to the bed frame. He stared lovingly at her before bitting down on his lips and rushed out.

At the room in the front courtyard sat the man in yellow. The flame from the candle flicked as the man in yellow glanced out of the window, his gaze was filled with evilness.

Yan Jingchen rushed over. Looking at the shadow cast on the window, he paused before opening the door.

The moon hung above the sky as the wind rustled the leaves of the trees. It was as though the trees were crying for help in the dead night. The lotus leaves were half-closed with an occasional drop of water, which reflected the luminous moonlight, roll off the leaves and into the glistening, yet unfathomable pond.

Sweat quietly rolled down the jade-smooth skin as Yan Jingchen suppressed his breath. Amidst the messy bed, a wrinkled and dried out hand reached out as the owner of the hand emitted a terrible rotting smell, one that belonged to someone in their twilight years.

This was not the first time he had to bear with this scent. Yet, today, he felt even more miserable and pathetic than ever with the girl now within his reach. He could not help but avoid the outreached hand ever so slightly now that his disgust had increased.

It was only a small distance, barely a nail long.

But that old man realized. The old man's fingers stopped in the middle of the air, and he said creepily, ”Seems like I made the wrong decision to help.”

”Teacher!” Yan Jingchen panicked as he moved over. ”It is not as you think, it is just that disciple… disciple is feeling a little unwell…”

”Oh?” The old man stared at him coldly, pushing him down. ”Since you don't feel well, then rest,” said the old man as he put on his clothes.

Yan Jingchen avoided his gaze as he tried to not look at the old man put on his clothes. After a moment, he asked, ”It's night time… where are you going?”

The old man turned back and smiled slyly. ”I haven't had enough fun. To extinguish the flame.”