Chapter 57

Chapter 57: Saved by Miss Meng

Shang Hang Yu felt an odd discomfort stirring within him.

“What?” Sheng Zhi Wan was momentarily startled, uncertain why he would ask such a question.

“Nothing,” Shang Hang Yu shifted his gaze away. “The one you’ve brought back—when will we see him?”

“Now,” Sheng Zhi Wan replied simply.

The courtyard had only two small buildings, ordinary and plain with common plants and flowers. Yet, descending a hidden staircase revealed a secret dungeon beneath.

Zhang Da Hu hung upside-down from a torture rack. His remaining arm was bound tightly, his mouth stuffed with an iron ball to silence any screams.

Seeing Sheng Zhi Wan enter, his eyes widened with terror.

He had witnessed firsthand the horror of the mountain stronghold last night. Initially, he had stood against Sheng Zhi Wan on behalf of Meng Yang because he saw Sheng Zhi Wan merely as a woman—Princess or not, a tarnished woman could only be controlled.

Even after falling into Sheng Zhi Wan’s hands last night, he hadn’t worried much. At worst, death would come quickly.

Yet, he had underestimated her cruelty. Over two hundred lives—and not a single survivor had been left behind!

No…

Actually, there was one survivor…

But he had been the leader behind her abduction. She had slain everyone else—how could she possibly spare him?

While Sheng Zhi Wan was unconscious, Zhang Da Hu had hung here in the dungeon, haunted by these terrifying thoughts and the dreadful torture devices around him.

Now, as Sheng Zhi Wan stepped closer, sweat beaded densely upon his brow.

“Remove the iron ball from his mouth,” Sheng Zhi Wan commanded.

At Shang Hang Yu’s nod, the two masked guards quickly pulled it away.

Zhang Da Hu spat and roared furiously, “Damnable wretch! Wicked woman! Over two hundred men dead by your word! Ha! No wonder the Heir despises a woman like you!”

“If only I had succeeded earlier, you’d already be defiled a thousand times over! Filthy harlot, wretched slut…”

Zhang Da Hu heaved violently, his face twisted in grotesque mockery. Years of military life had filled his mouth with obscenities most people could scarcely bear, let alone a noble lady raised amidst silks and finery.

Maybe she would lose herself to rage and kill him swiftly, freeing him from further agony.

After all, he had already suffered terribly from just a single needle of hers, pain worse than death. He preferred death over experiencing that again!

His vicious curses even made the masked guards furrow their brows in disgust, and Shang Hang Yu’s gaze was sharp as blades, coldly piercing through him.

Yet, the target of his abuse, Sheng Zhi Wan, remained entirely calm, standing silently, her dark eyes quietly fixed upon him.

A strange fear gripped Zhang Da Hu, choking the next insult in his throat like thick rope.

“You…”

“Are you finished?” Sheng Zhi Wan raised her brow slightly. “If you’re done, let’s discuss the poison—Qian Ji Powder.”

“What… What Qian Ji Powder?” Zhang Da Hu had never heard the name.

Sheng Zhi Wan smiled faintly and produced a small, square bottle, opening it gently.

As the familiar scent escaped the container, Zhang Da Hu’s pupils contracted sharply in horror.

He knew this smell all too well.

Even at this distance, the odor vividly reminded him of that terrible day at Cangnan, the poison coating the arrows that had struck him and his younger brother!

Panicking, Zhang Da Hu desperately tried to recoil, “You wicked woman! What are you doing? You’re a Royal Princess! I fought bravely at Cangnan—how could you treat me like this!”

“You did earn merit,” Sheng Zhi Wan’s gaze swept over him coldly, “but you chose the wrong path afterward.”

Ignoring the terror in his eyes, she calmly sprinkled the powder from the bottle onto her whip.

“Are you insane?! Kill me swiftly if you want!” Zhang Da Hu screamed, recognizing her intent, thrashing violently against his bonds.

Sheng Zhi Wan appeared indifferent to his desperate pleas.

She raised the whip, the sharp barbs glinting coldly as they sliced through the air.

And then, under Zhang Da Hu’s terrified gaze—

“Crack!”

“Ahhh!” Instantly, Zhang Da Hu felt the whip tear away flesh.

Yet, compared to the burning, bone-deep itch that followed, this initial pain seemed like mercy.

From the injured skin, the poison swiftly invaded his flesh, bones, and marrow, crawling within his veins like thousands of merciless insects.

“Kill me! Just kill me!” Zhang Da Hu’s eyes turned bloodshot.

When pain reached an unbearable extreme, the mind instinctively tried to erase it from memory.

Zhang Da Hu had forgotten how even the excruciating pain from yesterday’s needles was but a thousandth of this present agony.

“Filthy wretch! Cruel hag! You deserve death! I should’ve stripped you bare and…” His voice broke into a shriek.

The second lash struck, and Zhang Da Hu smashed his head desperately against the torture rack behind him.

He preferred death!

Miss Meng had clearly told him before—this poison was incurable. The only way to survive was to swiftly remove the poisoned flesh before it spread further.

Otherwise, the victim would helplessly watch themselves rot from the outside in, from flesh to bone, suffering unimaginable agony until their very organs decayed, bringing an excruciating death.

It was this unbearable torment that drove his brother, Zhang Er Hu, to fling himself into the enemy’s ranks, begging to be killed swiftly.

And Zhang Da Hu himself had been fortunate. He had survived—only because Miss Meng had acted swiftly enough to sever his poisoned arm.