“Come in.”

Ye Qingge’s voice was calm and unhurried. She took the plates of exquisite dishes and the bowl of rice from the table, then tipped them neatly out the window.

A timid young maid stepped into the room, her pink cheeks pale with fear.

Qingge sat in her chair with the red-furred cat-fox curled lazily in her arms. Her eyes were half closed, her tone casual—as though speaking of the weather.

“These dishes are the finest in the manor,” she murmured. “It would be a shame to waste them. Why don’t you take them to feed the Lady of the House’s spirit beast? That way, at least they won’t go to waste.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “B-but, madam doesn’t like others feeding her pet…”

“It’s fine,” Qingge said with a faint, knowing smile. “She’ll reward you for it.”

The girl hesitated for a long while, wringing her hands, then finally swallowed and nodded. Carefully, she gathered the food and carried it away.

The moment the door closed, silence fell—an almost eerie stillness that filled the room like mist.

Qingge’s lips curved. “If I remember correctly, Qin Lan’s beast is a Sanji spirit creature, isn’t it? Should it die suddenly…” Her smile deepened, voice a low purr. “Qin Lan will lose her mind.”

The cat-fox—Ji Yue—rolled its eyes. “You’re really vicious. You don’t even spare animals.”

It scratched idly at its other paw with a faint metallic sound, then blew on its claws in mock boredom.

Qingge’s hand shot out and smacked the top of its furry head. “I heard fox meat tastes rather good boiled plain,” she said sweetly.

“...” Ji Yue froze.

Whoever had told him women were made of water—gentle, tender, pure—had clearly never met this one. There was nothing in the world more ruthless than a beautiful woman with a smile.

Qingge leaned back and stroked his fur, her voice dropping. “Little Yueyue, when can we repair my dantian?”

That was what truly mattered.

As long as her strength returned, she would never again need to bow to anyone.

“Right now,” Ji Yue said, eyes darkening.

Before Qingge could respond, her vision blurred. Blood-red light flooded her sight, and the world spun violently. When it settled, she found herself standing in a pitch-black, ice-cold void.

A chill wind brushed her skin. She drew her robe tighter and lifted her gaze.

There—at the far end—sat a man upon a throne. He was barefoot, robed in crimson silk that shimmered like blood. His face was exquisite, almost demonic in its beauty, and when he smiled, kingdoms could crumble.

Ji Yue descended from the throne and came to stand before her, expression solemn.

“Rather than repairing your dantian,” he said quietly, “it’s more accurate to say I’ll build you a new one elsewhere in your body.”

His tone grew grave. “The pain will be beyond imagination. If you endure it, you’ll be reborn. But if you fail…” His eyes flickered. “Your dantian will remain shattered forever. Worse—you’ll damage your heart meridian. You’ll have, at most, three years to live.”

Qingge’s heart gave a sharp jolt. She hadn’t expected the risk to be this great.

“Repair it or not—your choice,” Ji Yue said flatly. “Even the most exalted of beings would pale at the pain.”

She lowered her gaze, silent.

For a long time, the only sound was the faint echo of their breaths in the endless dark.

Then Qingge lifted her head, eyes burning with light even in the blackness. Her lips curved in a fearless smile.

“Do it,” she said. “In my current state, I might as well be dead anyway.”

Ji Yue’s lips curved. He reached out, tapping her forehead lightly with a long, slender finger. His voice was unexpectedly warm.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

He led her to the throne. As she sat, the seat tilted backward, transforming into a dark bed. From beneath it, four chains shot out, binding her wrists and ankles firmly in place.

“Before the new dantian can form,” Ji Yue said, summoning a dagger etched with ghostly runes, “I must remove the ruined bone in your lower abdomen. That space will become the foundation of your new core.”

He sat at the edge of the bed, the blade gleaming between his fingers, and looked down at her.

“Compared to what comes after, this will be nothing,” he said softly. “Are you ready?”

Qingge closed her eyes, her voice steady.

“Stop talking,” she said. “Just do it. Once you’re done, I still want to see whether Qin Lan’s pet has died.”

Ji Yue’s mouth twitched.

This woman…