Chapter 51

Chapter 51: Bao Er Turns Dark (Part 2)

All the soul lamps went out at once.

The cave plunged into darkness so suddenly it felt like a blade. Only the bonfire still burned, its light licking across smoke and stone. Bao Er’s posture shifted—alert, ready.

Time was running out.

“This child’s life and death rests on a single thought of yours,” she said lightly. “Choose carefully. Don’t regret it.”

She raised a small palm veined with sinister black qi and aimed it at her own crown.

“Wait!”

Song Wei Chen lunged and seized her wrist with everything she had left. She was half-empty from blood loss, limbs heavy as lead—yet Bao Er’s small frame held a terrifying strength. Song Wei Chen could barely keep that hand from dropping.

“I’ll take you out,” she gasped. “But before we leave… I want to say something to Bao Er’s mother.”

Bao Er stared for a heartbeat. Then her expression shifted, as if something behind those bright eyes had leaned closer.

“Speak.”

“You must love Bao Er,” Song Wei Chen said, her voice shaking but her intent steady. “You became like this because you were afraid she’d be bullied. But if you love her, why would you drag her into death with you?”

Her throat tightened. “Let Nian Niang leave her body. If you stop now, it’s not too late.”

Bao Er went still.

For an instant, it looked as if shadows surged beneath her skin. A flicker of black passed through her eyes and vanished.

Then she snapped her arm.

Song Wei Chen was flung aside as if she weighed nothing. Pain detonated in her abdomen, turning her insides to fire. She couldn’t even push herself up.

“Don’t listen to her,” Bao Er muttered—like she was arguing with herself.

Then she looked down at Song Wei Chen, eyes gone cold. “Since you refuse the toast, you’ll drink the forfeit. Then we’ll all go down together.”

Black qi spilled from her like snakes. It wrapped Song Wei Chen’s body, hoisted her into the air, and cinched tight around her throat.

“Mo…” Song Wei Chen tried to call his name. No sound came. Her vision blurred as darkness crowded in.

“Let her go!”

A slash of sword qi severed the black strand around Song Wei Chen’s neck.

With it came a voice so cold it made the cave itself feel afraid.

Mo Ting Feng stepped into the firelight, his presence like a drawn blade.

Bao Er smiled.

The black qi binding Song Wei Chen sprouted countless sharp barbs, like scorpion tails—angled at nearly every vital point in her body.

“Try touching her,” Bao Er purred.

Mo Ting Feng’s voice was quiet. Behind him, his sword qi manifestation unfurled—vast, lethal, as if he meant to split the entire cave in two. “Try forcing me.”

“Or maybe,” Bao Er said pleasantly, “Lord should try touching me.”

Her gaze gleamed with malice. “You may not care whether this little girl lives or dies. But if I can drag White Robe down with me, that’s worth it.”

She tilted her head. “Unless… we make a deal.”

Mo Ting Feng clenched his fists until the veins at his temples stood out. “What do you want?”

A small spider slid down from the ceiling on a single thread and landed in Bao Er’s hair. She didn’t notice—or didn’t care.

Bao Er’s smile deepened. “Thanks to this little girl, being able to speak with you feels wonderful.”

Her tone turned almost conversational. “Simple. Remove the Heaven Net and Earth Net restraints and let me go. I’ll release White Robe.”

One barb shifted, aligning with Song Wei Chen’s heart.

“Otherwise…” Bao Er sighed. “I don’t have much patience. The longer we talk, the easier it is for my hand to slip.”

Mo Ting Feng went silent.

One second stretched into something endless.

Then he said, each word iced over, “Open the restraints. Let her go.”

His aura withdrew all at once, his sword qi collapsing back into him like a tide sucked away.

Bao Er laughed, delighted. “Ha! Worthy of you, Lord. If I’d known you were this easy, I wouldn’t have wasted breath on White Robe at all.”

In a blink, she moved—Nian Niang using Bao Er’s body, black qi binding Song Wei Chen like a leash—until they were above the River of Oblivion.

Blackwater churned beneath them, swallowing moonlight.

Mo Ting Feng and the others didn’t pursue. They kept their promise.

What Bao Er didn’t notice was the spider in her hair weaving—fast, precise—until a tiny web was ready.

“Put White Robe down,” Mo Ting Feng called. With a technique, his voice carried clean and sharp to her ears. “You can go. I swear I won’t stop you.”

Bao Er smiled at the water. “Lord should use that thousand-mile voice transmission art sparingly. It’s so easy to startle me into a shaky hand. If I accidentally hurt White Robe, that would be terribly unfair of me, wouldn’t it?”

Then she glanced back, sweet as poison. “Dust warden official—Nian Niang keeps her word. I’m putting White Robe down.”

She withdrew the black qi.

Song Wei Chen, unconscious, dropped straight toward the blackwater.

Bao Er let out a cold laugh and shot upward—

And the web in her hair bloomed in an instant, snapping tight around her. It wrapped and tightened, compressing like a living snare. Bao Er’s scream tore through the night.

“A soul-trapping Heaven Net!”

Her voice twisted into a shriek. “Mo Ting Feng—you liar! May you die a horrible death!”

Mo Ting Feng didn’t spare her a glance.

He lunged for Song Wei Chen’s falling body, but the distance was too far. By the time he reached the surface, there was nothing—no ripple, no trace. Only blackwater, dead and silent, as if it had never opened at all.

This time, panic hit him like a fist.

He hovered above the river, searching with a desperation that felt like madness. His chest roared with wind and emptiness, hope and terror clawing at each other.

That stubborn girl. He’d told her to call his name if she was in danger. He hadn’t told her he’d placed a name-summoning ban for her—if she called him, no matter where she was, he could reach her in an instant.

That soft-hearted girl. She’d bled herself thin to break the formation and save people. She was always the one most afraid of pain, yet she never complained once.

That mischievous girl. A young miss who insisted on acting like some world-weary lover just to tease Ruan Mian Mian—where had she even learned to talk like that?

Mo Ting Feng’s thoughts splintered into chaos.

He didn’t know why he cared this much.

He didn’t want to know.

He only knew he had to find her—no matter the cost.

He dove toward the blackwater.

Ding He Ran, Ye Wu Jiu, and the others rushed in, spells flaring as they tried to hold him back.

“Lord!” Ding He Ran shouted, voice raw. “This blackwater can make even a luan bird fall from immortality. Lord must not enter!”

“Let go!” Mo Ting Feng snarled, his eyes gone red.

Above them, Bao Er’s warped laughter echoed from within the tightening net. Thick clouds swallowed the full moon. The river darkened even further.

“I said—let go!”

Mo Ting Feng tore free and plunged downward.

His sword qi manifestation erupted at full strength. Sword-gang surged like a storm, forcing the River of Oblivion to change color, the blackwater splitting in layers as if he meant to carve it open and search beneath without letting a single drop touch him.

But just before his aura struck the surface, he wrenched it back.

Song Wei Chen has no cultivation, he thought fiercely. If sword qi enters the water, it could hurt her.

In the next instant, he drew everything in, leaving only a thin protective barrier around himself—barely enough to keep him alive.

Then he dove anyway.

It was almost suicide.

He didn’t care.