City of No Night, Imperial Palace. When Ying Ru Shi entered the Hall of Longevity, she saw Ying Le personally demonstrating and instructing the dancing girls. They sat in a circle around the Empress, gazing up at her world-shattering performance. The fire basins in the hall blazed brightly, illuminating their faces full of longing and reverence. The only one in the hall not mesmerized by Ying Le was Ying Ru Shi. She saw the admiration in the eyes of the dancers, and before she knew it, tears had soaked her clothes. "Ru Shi, you’re here." Ying Le stopped, waved her hand to dismiss all the dancers and guards, and soon the Hall of Longevity held only the two of them. She wore thin gauze and a short, chest-wrapping skirt. She stepped lightly to the throne, like a lively maiden in her prime. Every move was youthful and charming. Yet when she half-reclined on the throne, barefoot, with a lazy demeanor, she transformed into a peerless beauty of unmatched grace, every frown and smile exuding allure. No one had ever doubted Ying Le’s beauty, and she never hesitated to display it to the world. Anyone who had seen Ying Le would surely entertain irreverent fantasies: imagining themselves as emperors wielding absolute power, with Ying Le as the enchanting seductress by their side. They would plunge the empire into chaos for one smile, slaughter all royal kin to clear the path for her children, and even with rebellion rising from all sides, they would still choose to die in her arms. So-called calamitous beauties or femme fatales—she was the very embodiment. Yet Ying Le was neither a consort nor a mere beauty. She was a Foundation Messenger. She needed no one. Her wrath alone could wipe towns off the map. Her smile could bring about mass slaughter. "Your Majesty." Ying Ru Shi knelt on one knee and respectfully said, "I have returned from the Thieves' House—" "Don’t rush. Look up—notice anything strange?" Ying Ru Shi looked carefully, her gaze settling on the single shoe by the throne: "Why is there only one shoe, Your Majesty?" "Because I sold the other one." Ying Le’s eyes lit up at the thought. She cheerfully asked, "Guess how much it sold for?" Ying Ru Shi was unfazed. Ying Le had done many absurd things: "Your Majesty is the number one beauty in Qi and a dance master. Naturally, your shoes are priceless." "Everything has a price. My shoe was worth one Third-Stage Rare Token." Ying Le suddenly held up a mirror. Though all her Tokens were far more powerful than this mirror, she hugged it as if it were her dearest treasure and laughed: "Haha! Some fool traded a Third-Stage Rare Token for my shoe! I wonder what they’ll use it for—hopefully something entertaining." "I’ll give you the remaining shoe." She flicked it over with her toes. "If you manage to sell it, don’t forget to split the profits with me." Ying Ru Shi tucked the shoe into her robe, nodded calmly: "This subject will remember." "So, what did you gain from tonight’s visit to the Thieves’ House?" Ying Le yawned, crossed her legs, her chest half-exposed, and asked with narrowed eyes. "This subject is ashamed. I failed to seize the chance to eliminate Shang Xuanwen. However, I did win the auction for the Legendary Token: Heaven-Reliant Sword, and came to present it to Your Majesty!" Ying Ru Shi unfastened the Heaven-Reliant Sword from her belt, offering it up with both hands, scabbard and all. Ying Le looked surprised. She reached out to stroke the scabbard, tracing the inscription along its side, and smiled: "A Second-Stage Legendary Blade? It suits you perfectly. Why not keep it? I can't reward you with anything more valuable than this." "This subject believes the Heaven-Reliant Sword is the blade of the Son of Heaven, the sword of a king. Only in Your Majesty’s hands can it realize its full worth—it would be wasted in mine." Ying Ru Shi explained the Heaven-Reliant Sword’s three powers: Order Domain, Chaos Authority, and Dominance. With heartfelt sincerity, she said, "With the Heaven-Reliant Sword in hand, Your Majesty shall cleanse the world and unify all hearts." "With such a miraculous aura, this divine weapon can help Your Majesty win over the younger generation of the But-Six-Gu, Tuoba, Yuchi, Lu, Che, and Yi families. Draw elite talents from each region’s Hundred-Ward and cultivate them in the capital. A massive force loyal to Your Majesty can be formed in no time!" Ying Ru Shi grew more excited. Ever since she saw the Order Domain ability, she had resolved to claim the Heaven-Reliant Sword. To others, it might be a tool for building political cliques. But to Ying Ru Shi, it was a banner to restore Ying Le’s imperial dignity! Ying Le had indulged her whims for years, but what worried Ying Ru Shi most was her disregard for the court, cutting off all channels of communication. Without connection between ruler and ministers, how could the realm be governed? The Heaven-Reliant Sword could solve this. So long as Ying Le had someone she wished to cultivate, whoever it was, they would grow into loyal subjects. With the Order Domain aura, as long as Her Majesty acted reasonably, the people would adore her just like the dancers earlier. Ying Ru Shi couldn’t admonish Ying Le, nor sway the major clans of Qi. But as long as there were enough imperial loyalists in the court, governance wouldn’t collapse. At least someone would be willing to act. At least Ying Le could still hear the voices below! Her heart brimmed with hope. She poured out suggestion after long-held suggestion, unaware that the fire basins in the Hall of Longevity were extinguishing one by one, darkness swallowing her shadow like a tide. The Heaven-Reliant Sword suddenly unsheathed. Ying Ru Shi’s heart leapt—but in the next instant, the sword’s tip thrust toward her right eye, stopping a hair’s breadth away. The blade radiated scorching heat, and Ying Ru Shi felt as if her eye might melt. "Are you teaching Us how to rule?" Ying Le’s voice fell from above, devoid of emotion. Ying Ru Shi didn’t retreat, didn’t flinch. Maintaining her posture with the burning sword nearly piercing her eye, she solemnly said, "This subject harbors no ambition. Every word was sincere. I lost my composure in the heat of the moment. I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness!" After an eternity, when Ying Ru Shi’s inner garments were soaked through, the Heaven-Reliant Sword finally lowered slightly, now pointing at her lower eyelid. "Even without this broken sword, the clans wouldn’t dare rebel. The Hundred-Ward still follows Our command. Our will is Heaven’s decree!" As Ying Le spoke, she dragged the Heaven-Reliant Sword, slicing a bloody mark beneath Ying Ru Shi’s eye. The heat cauterized the wound instantly, branding her flower-like face with a cruel burn. Ying Ru Shi’s expression didn’t change. Her voice remained calm, as if she weren’t the one injured: "Ru Shi admits her mistake—it was presumptuous of me." Clang! Ying Le sheathed the sword, slumping back as if drained, lazily murmuring, "Take back the Heaven-Reliant Sword. I don’t need it. I won’t waste time on such trivialities." She paused: "Since you have so many ideas, go and carry them out. If they fail, it’s on your head." "Begone." Ying Le waved her hand, disinterested. "Tell those outside not to disturb me. I’m sleeping." Ying Ru Shi bowed and stepped backward, never turning her back on Ying Le, even though the Empress had already closed her eyes. She silently shut the hall doors and instructed the Ghostly Warriors outside not to disturb the Empress, then hurried away. Once the palace gates shut behind her, Ying Ru Shi looked up at the night yet to yield to dawn. Her legs suddenly gave out, and she nearly collapsed. She touched the scorched wound below her right eye, trembling all over, eyes filled with dread. It was as if she had stared into the abyss of death itself, only now able to feel pain and fear. She had no doubt—had she shown even a hint of resentment or fear, she would now be a charred corpse on the floor of the Hall of Longevity. She had seen too many such corpses—each one like a sinner clawing their way from hell, dying only after enduring unspeakable torment. That’s how she stayed calm—she no longer treated herself as human... Only monsters could survive next to monsters. The first time she saw Ying Le’s terror was in the Third-Stage Secret Realm: Misty Village. It was also the only time she had entered such a realm. When Black Wolf asked her what her strength was at the time, she didn’t answer—not out of secrecy, but because she had none. She was only eleven, a little girl not even at First-Stage. She entered the Third-Stage Secret Realm with the scions of all the great clans. She was the youngest, while the others were older and already advanced. Ying Le said she wanted to show them the Secret Realm, and no one questioned it. With a Foundation Messenger present, it should have been effortless. Ying Le did intervene several times. Everyone relaxed, treating it like an outing. Young Ying Ru Shi even picked a flower for Ying Le. For years, Ying Ru Shi wondered—was it that flower that spared her life? The rest went as she told Medicine Master Wen: when facing the Third-Stage Demon Lord, Ying Le did nothing and watched as everyone else was slaughtered. Ying Ru Shi, at the very edge, barely escaped the demon’s wide-range attack. She watched her kin torn to pieces one by one. Then the demon turned to her. Numb with fear, she sat frozen, waiting for death. But Ying Le finally acted, crushing the Demon Lord with ease. She crouched before little Ying Ru Shi, patting her head and smiling: "You’re of the royal Qi bloodline, the Ying clan. When facing enemies, you must at least try to resist. Never surrender, understand?" ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝙣𝙚𝙩 The girl nodded, and Ying Le took her hand to leave the Secret Realm. They flew kites that afternoon, slept together that night—as if nothing had happened. But ever since, every midnight dream of adulthood woke Ying Ru Shi in cold sweat. Every nightmare was the same—returning to Misty Village, witnessing the bloodshed again. But this time, Ying Le wasn’t the savior—she was the cold, heartless observer. Ying Ru Shi once wondered—perhaps Ying Le had intended to cull the powerful clans’ heirs? But she could never convince or deceive herself. In the Hall of Longevity, the flames had all gone out. Ying Le was about to sleep. But then— "That girl’s going to die soon, huh? What a shame." "Shame? She still can’t see Ying Le’s true face. Anyone who still clings to that monster deserves to die! Good riddance!" "Good riddance indeed. With her talent, she’ll surely join us. Then I’ll finally have a girlfriend—I’m tired of talking to you stinking men." Ying Le’s eyes snapped open. She screamed at her arm: "Why are you so noisy at night!?" Her pale arm was now covered in twisted human faces—eyes, mouths, noses crammed together, roaming like boats made of flesh. They laughed at her fury: "Ying Le, are you going to kill again?" "When you forged your demonic foundation, did you think of today?" "You felt killing intent and blame us? You’re the beast." "You’re doomed. Your foundation will grind your soul to dust—that’s your punishment!" Ying Le’s face darkened. "I won’t die!" Flames erupted from her right hand, charring her flesh. Glaring at the twisted faces in the fire, she hissed, "I won’t die... As long as I kill that bitch from the Divine Marquis Estate, I’ll have no weaknesses! I’ll complete my foundation! I won’t die!" "Impossible." A face slid onto her right cheek, mocking: "You can’t beat the Divine Constable. You couldn’t before, and now fear weakens you further! You’re a monster! She’s justice! Evil cannot triumph!" "I’ve built my foundation for years—I can’t lose! If I win, I am justice!" "A Foundation who can’t control their killing intent? With a shattered soul? You’re a failure—a defective!" Ying Le smeared her burning hand across her face. Her right cheek burst into flames. The pain pierced her nerves. She gripped the armrest tightly. Then she called out: "Enter." A Ghostly Warrior opened the hall doors. The Ghostly Warrior left. Soon, a shrill wail echoed from another part of the palace. The flames on Ying Le’s face and arm slowly died down, revealing blackened bone. But she let out a long sigh of relief, expression softening as she sank into sleep—her brows twitching like a restless newborn.