Chapter 282: Blind Eyes, Deaf Ears
The woman’s hand was clearly empty, yet everyone distinctly heard a puchi sound echo through the silence.
It was the sound of a sharp weapon piercing flesh.
Gong Da’s eyes flew wide open, his expression dazed. Before he could fully process what was happening, the woman had already rushed in front of him. Her right hand clenched at empty air—and in the next instant, something sharp pierced straight through his heart.
Using witchcraft to condense air into form—this was the highest level of sorcery.
Nan Xun drove the invisible wind blade into Gong Da’s chest, staring at him coldly as she grasped the void and twisted it hard.
Another puchi sounded in the next moment.
The wind blade plunged in and was pulled out again. Because her movements were fast, precise, and ruthless, the blood inside Gong Da’s chest was dragged out by the blade and sprayed everywhere, splattering directly across her face.
Yet she didn’t even blink.
She allowed the warm, thick, fishy blood to soak her face, watching indifferently as Gong Da belatedly clutched his chest.
Blood quickly spread, staining a large patch of his white robe red.
Gong Da gasped for breath, trembling as he pointed at the woman before him.
“You… how could you…”
Before he could finish the sentence, he collapsed to his knees. His eyes slowly lost focus.
He had never imagined that one day he would die at the hands of a woman—let alone such a lowly woman from a pleasure house.
And yet, even as his life drained away, he felt no regret over today’s decision.
His empty gaze drifted skyward, as though he saw once more the scene of his first meeting with my lord.
Perhaps others could not understand his fanatical devotion to the National Preceptor. Only he himself knew that when he was six years old—alone, helpless, and on the brink of death—it was that man who pulled him back, clothed and fed him, and taught him the arts of witchcraft and gu poison.
In his childhood, he had no parents—only the National Preceptor. That man descended like a god, bringing him into a world he had never dared to imagine.
Yes. My lord was his god. He would not allow anyone to defile the god in his heart.
That was why he wanted to kill this woman who had blasphemed his lord. Only by killing her could his lord return to being that lofty, cold, and detached god.
Everyone should kneel and look up at him. He was meant to stand apart from the world and receive the worship of all.
For this, Gong Da did not hesitate to cooperate with the Empress.
He knew that the night of the full moon was when his lord suffered witchcraft backlash. So he devised a plan that killed two birds with one stone.
As he instructed, the Empress burned a certain incense in the Emperor’s study. On its own, it caused no harm—but once combined with sandalwood incense and secretly activated by his spell, it could trigger his lord’s hidden illness ahead of time.
When the backlash struck, my lord would be extremely dangerous. If Gong Nineteen took the initiative to approach him, all the better—an unhinged lord might very well kill her outright.
But if Gong Nineteen survived, Gong Da would then storm into the main hall and pin the charge of attempted murder on her.
That morning was the first time he had ever seen his lord lying disheveled on the bed—like a fallen god. Rage burned through him, and he wished nothing more than for the woman who had seduced his lord to die on the spot.
He had calculated everything—except that Gong Seventeen would die for this woman.
And he had never imagined… that this woman would be so formidable.
Gong Da slowly closed his eyes.
In the final moment of his life, the image in his mind returned to the very beginning—of that man extending a hand toward him, his gaze calm and detached, yet saving him like a god descending from the heavens.
Gong Da was dead.
His hair gradually turned gray, then white as snow. His once-young face rapidly withered, turning ashen and shriveling like tree bark, wrinkles piling upon wrinkles.
The disciples of Mo Ran Hall were stunned. Gong Da’s appearance after death made one of them unconsciously take a step back.
So this was it.
This was what they would become after death.
No—they didn’t want to die. Once they died, the lifespan their lord had extended for them would all be reclaimed by heaven. They would age into nothing but skin and bone—so ugly.
Nan Xun’s gaze shifted, sweeping slowly over everyone present. The corners of her lips curved slightly, full of mockery.
“Come on. All of you—come kill me. Didn’t you all want this demon dead?”
After a brief, suffocating silence, Gong Er suddenly stepped forward, his expression complicated.
“Nineteen, that’s enough. My lord is unconscious, and both Gong Da and Seventeen are dead because of you. What more do you want?”
Nan Xun burst out laughing, her face filled with sarcasm.
“What do I want? From beginning to end, it was never about what I wanted—it was what you wanted!”
“I just like my lord. What crime have I committed?” She looked at them coldly. “With my lord unconscious, I’m more worried than any of you. I would harm myself before I ever harmed him!”
As she spoke, her expression suddenly changed. Her eyes dimmed rapidly.
Nan Xun abruptly turned around, facing away from everyone, and said coldly,
“You should all leave. Seventeen has already died for me. I’m tired—I don’t want to keep hurting people.”
They exchanged glances. Two of them immediately stepped forward to carry away Gong Da’s corpse.
As for Gong Seventeen—while they hesitated over whether to take his body as well, the woman with her back to them spoke again:
“Take Seventeen with you too. Mo Ran Hall is his home. Everything he did today was for me. I hope you’ll give him a proper burial.”
Gong Er nodded.
“As you wish. Seventeen was innocent.”
After everyone had left, Nan Xun remained standing there, unmoving. A faint smell of blood lingered in the air, reminding her of what had just happened.
Little Eight sighed repeatedly.
“Isn’t this Gong Seventeen an idiot? Gong Da’s strike—couldn’t you have taken it? Why did he stupidly block it? Well, now look—dead, just like that.”
Nan Xun pressed her lips together tightly and said nothing.
Seeing this, Little Eight’s voice dropped, and its attitude changed immediately.
“Sorry, Nan Xun. I’ve seen too much separation and death, so even though Gong Seventeen died, I wasn’t exactly… uh, heartbroken. I can’t feel it the way you do. But I should apologize—I shouldn’t have joked about someone who just died.”
Nan Xun still didn’t speak, her eyes vacant as she stared into the distance.
Little Eight rambled on,
“Hey, don’t be like this, okay? I know Seventeen’s death hurts you, but what’s done is done. You already killed Gong Da for revenge—no amount of grief will change anything. And I have to say it—when you killed Gong Da just now? That was cool. Seriously, insanely cool!”
After performing its one-sided monologue for a long time, Little Eight finally sensed something was wrong.
“Hey, sweetheart… what’s going on with you?”
Nan Xun took a deep breath. After a long while, she said,
“Little Eight… I’m blind.”
Little Eight: !
Nan Xun continued,
“And I’m deaf too.”
Little Eight: ……
