Chapter 234: That Girl is So Dangerous~ |
The morning light bathed my room in soft gold as rain tapped gently against the windowpane. My body felt like jelly, and for the first time since moving into this house, I had no desire to get up. The exhaustion from yesterday had lifted, and that grueling winter journey felt like a distant, fading dream.
I pressed my face into the pillow. It smelled faintly of lavender, comforting and familiar. I really didn't want to wake up.
Even without opening my eyes, I knew I had probably slept in longer than usual. The protective arrays I'd set around the room just in case Fu Yating decided to try something were still intact, which was reassuring.
Reluctantly, I stood and took a deep breath, letting the cool morning air fill my lungs. The chill was sharper than expected, a reminder that this wasn't a modern home with the luxury of central heating.
After dressing, I made my way down the wooden staircase. Even before I reached the ground floor, I heard the soft murmur of voices and light laughter from the kitchen.
When I stepped inside, I found Fu Yating and my mother standing side by side, giggling like old friends. Wu Yan sat nearby, quietly observing them.
Wu Yan noticed me first, and she gave a small wave.
Then Fu Yating turned. Her eyes widened slightly before she offered a shy, tentative smile. "H-Hi… I'm learning to cook from… Mother."
Mother? She was already calling her that? It hadn't even been a full day, and she was acting like she belonged here and was part of the family.
I kept my expression neutral, but inside, I felt the flicker of wariness. Fu Yating's performance was flawless… too flawless. It wouldn't surprise me if she suspected something.
Still, the idea of her uncovering my secret was unlikely. Knowledge about otherworlders wasn't exactly common. They wouldn't stumble upon it unless someone went digging through ancient texts or old sect records. Cultivators were more interested in rare treasures and secret techniques than chasing obscure legends.
I took a seat at the kitchen table, my gaze narrowing slightly as I watched Fu Yating. She moved gracefully, helping my mother prepare breakfast and carefully measured every gesture.
Even now, after having her cultivation crushed, she wasn't entirely defenseless. Her instincts would still be sharp enough to pick up on the sliver of murderous intent I directed her way.
But she played her part well. Smiling. Laughing. Acting every bit the dutiful daughter-in-law trying to win over her new family.
I couldn't deny that she was making my mother happy. That much was real. And even if Fu Yating was putting on an act, my mother's joy wasn't false. It had been a while since I'd seen her this at ease.
As we waited for breakfast to finish, I guided my Qi into Wu Yan, gently correcting the flow in her pathways. Her cultivation was progressing steadily. She listened intently as I made adjustments, her concentration unbroken even when my father entered the room and took his place at the table.
Soon, breakfast was ready. I noticed several unfamiliar dishes among the usual fare. My mother placed them on the table with pride, her eyes bright.
I tried a piece of one. To my surprise, it was good, really good. The texture was just right and the meat almost melted in my mouth. I glanced at Fu Yating, who was watching me with an expectant expression.
"Sorry if it's not as good as your mother's cooking," she said, her voice light but self-conscious. "These are dishes from my hometown. They might taste different to you, but they're some of my favorites."
I raised an eyebrow. It was unusual. Mortal women often learned to cook, but for cultivators, time spent on domestic skills was generally considered wasted.
Despite her occasional recklessness, Fu Yating didn't seem like the type to indulge in such trivial pursuits, either. She was too ambitious, and for people who didn't have top-grade talent, every second counts when it came to cultivation, or we would end up dead before we could finish that next breakthrough.
Then again… it wouldn't be out of character for her to prepare for every possible outcome. If she'd suspected she might lose her cultivation, she would've taken steps to adapt. I could easily imagine her spending weeks mastering household skills just in case.
That kind of meticulous, borderline obsessive planning was precisely her style.
I continued eating. The food had a distinct flavor, richer and spicier than my mother's usual dishes. It was clear Fu Yating had put thought and effort into it.
And yet, the possibility of poison lingered at the back of my mind.
Not that it worried me much.
For one, it was too soon. Fu Yating wouldn't be foolish enough to make a move now. And even if she did, I'd already scanned her body for anything suspicious. She carried no concealed weapons, no toxins. She was eating the same food, after all. If there was poison in it, she'd suffer the same fate.
The only way she could have prepared something lethal would've been through long-term planning, and she had built up resistance to this very specific poison. Perhaps using everyday ingredients to create a poison that built up in the body over time.
I wasn't an expert in poisons, but I could appreciate the ingenuity behind such an attempt. However, I also knew that she wasn't stupid enough to try this, as a cultivator's body was too strong to fall to some regular poison.
Still, I doubted she would do this at all. Fu Yating wasn't careless. Everything she did had a purpose. She'd fought tooth and nail to survive and wouldn't throw it all away by making an impulsive mistake.
Besides, she knew the consequences. If anything happened to me or my family, her life would be forfeit. And depending on my grandfather's mood, her death could be far from merciful.
No, she wouldn't risk it.
Not yet.
For now, she played the part of the perfect bride, winning over my parents and weaving herself into our lives.
I had to admit, though, I was curious. If she ever did try to poison me, I'd be interested to see how far her creativity went. It would take more than a basic concoction to get past me.
But for now, I savored the meal, aware of the delicate game we were playing.
She wasn't the only one who could act.
The food was, admittedly, quite good.
"This is good," I said with a faint smile directed at Fu Yating.
She glanced away shyly, playing her part to perfection. "Th… thanks…" she stuttered, her voice soft and demure.
Breakfast went by uneventfully after that—pleasant on the surface, but with underlying tension simmering beneath. Once the meal ended, I stepped outside into the backyard, where the snow was beginning to melt. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and fading frost.
Without hesitation, I leaned over and vomited up everything I'd just eaten.
I crouched there for a moment, wiping my mouth before going through the familiar routine of testing my bile for poison. Traditional methods weren't foolproof, especially without proper equipment, but they worked well enough.
As expected, there were no signs of toxins.
Of course, there weren't. Poisoning the food would have been a stupid move, far too obvious. Fu Yating wasn't reckless, and she wasn't dumb.
Still, throwing up every meal she cooked would get old and inconvenient quickly. Annoying, too. I'd have to develop a technique to analyze the contents of my stomach more efficiently. It shouldn't be too tricky since I already had diagnostic techniques that monitored my internal state. With the Eight Mind Phantoms, a Sky-Grade technique, it was feasible to create something more advanced.
A part of me enjoyed this game of wits.
A mental clash, subtle and unpredictable, was far more engaging than the dull, repetitive cycle of building strength through sheer routine. It was far more stimulating than the endless monotony of training and cultivating.
Of course, there was always the simpler option: just kill Fu Yating.
She had no one to protect her, no powerful allies that would retaliate. But despite her abrasive personality, she was still just a kid. I'd gone through the trouble of saving her, after all. Unless she did something truly idiotic, I wouldn't go out of my way to snuff out her life.
I glanced down at the spot where I'd thrown up and couldn't help but chuckle.
By all normal standards, I should be irritated. But a bigger part of me, more than I cared to admit, was elated. Maybe I was being paranoid. Perhaps I was clinging to this assumption just to add some excitement to an otherwise dull stretch of time.
Fighting wasn't exciting to me. Not when my life was on the line. Sure, there was a brief, animalistic thrill after defeating someone who genuinely wanted me dead, but that was just adrenaline. Instinct.
Mental battles, though? That was different.
Of course, those clashes usually happened with someone far above me, a Core Formation cultivator, or even the damn Sect Leader himself. And I couldn't enjoy the game when the other player could flip the board and crush me with ease.
But here? With Fu Yating?
This was different.
Here, I could afford to savor the back-and-forth. I could take my time and actually learn from it. I wasn't as naturally talented at scheming as she was, but copying someone's methods was always easier than developing my own.
After all, modern humans had mastered concepts that geniuses like Einstein spent years formulating. I was going to do the same with Fu Yating. Watch her. Learn from her. Adapt her tactics for myself.
Or at least… I'd try.
Who knew if it would work? Maybe it was just another silly idea to pass the time. But it wasn't like I had anything better to do.
Once I'd confirmed there was no poison in my bile, I rinsed my mouth, ate some dried food from my storage ring, and headed back inside. Before returning to the house, I made sure to get rid of any evidence of what I'd been doing.
The blueprint for my new poison detection technique was already forming in my mind. It wouldn't be particularly difficult to create. Medium-low difficulty, at most.
Later that morning, I took Wu Yan outside to train. She kept adjusting her porcelain mask as we walked to the front yard, the porcelain glinting faintly in the pale winter light.
"Today, we'll do some light sparring," I said. "Just to get back into the rhythm of things. We'll focus on the basics for now and incorporate martial techniques as we go."
I hadn't even finished my sentence when Wu Yan lunged at me.
Her short sword sliced toward my neck with surprising speed. Her movements were fluid, her technique precise. But it was too textbook predictable.
I conjured a translucent green blade and deflected her strike with a loud clang of metal on metal.
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The moment our weapons clashed, she twisted her body like a coiled spring. Her unnaturally elastic tendons allowed her to whip her limbs around with startling speed. She lashed out with a kick aimed straight at my neck, a blow that would've ripped a normal man's head clean off.
"Good," I said, pointing my blade toward her leg, "but your leg isn't actually a whip."
The kick met the point of my knife.
Her leg skewered itself on the blade, grotesque chunks of flesh landing on the wet ground.
"Bad idea, as you can see," I said calmly, nodding toward the mangled limb that she decided to cut off as growing a new one would be easier than fixing that.
Wu Yan nodded in acknowledgment, her masked expression blank. She bent down and began the process of regeneration. Not quite healing, but reshaping her body to its original form.
"By the way," I added, "you'll need to clean up those chunks before mother freaks out."
She nodded again, wordlessly.
"Also, you need to work on your regeneration speed," I said. "Right now, while you're focused on regenerating that leg, I could've cut your head off and splattered your brains across the yard."
"Shouldn't you go a bit easier on her?" a voice called out from behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Fu Yating approaching, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
"By the way," she continued, "I've got your mother distracted in the kitchen with some new recipes. So you can continue… this." She gestured toward the dismembered leg with a casual wave.
"Normally, I would train her at a slower pace," I explained, "but Wu Yan lacks a fighter's instincts. She can dull her pain receptors, so it's not as bad as it looks."
Turning back to Wu Yan, I gave her a thumbs-up. "By the way, good idea with the whip-kick. It just needs more refinement."
Fu Yating chimed in. "I think it was a clever move. The problem isn't with the technique; it's the opponent. That attack would've worked on anyone who can't instantly conjure a weapon."
Her tone was neutral, but there was something calculated in her words. She conveniently avoided mentioning Wu Yan's unique physique, nor did she seem surprised by it.
Interesting.
Was she planning something with Wu Yan?
Hopefully. It would make for a valuable lesson. At her core, Wu Yan was sweet and innocent, qualities that made her vulnerable. I'd prefer she learned not to trust anyone's words too easily while under my watch rather than in some far more dangerous scenario. Better to learn those lessons now, in safety, than when I'm not there to protect her.
"A valid point," I said. "But if a technique is only useful against those weaker than oneself, then it's a useless technique. The only exception is when it can cover a wide area and deal with multiple enemies simultaneously. But in this case, that doesn't apply."
Fu Yating nodded, though her gaze flickered from Wu Yan to me for the briefest moment. She seemed to be considering something and calculating.
Her mind must be churning with schemes. Was she thinking of using Wu Yan as a tool for revenge? That would be disappointing. I expected more from my fiancée. Fu Yating had the potential to be more than a two-bit schemer with shallow plots.
Wu Yan, meanwhile, paid little attention to Fu Yating. She focused on cleaning up, using the storage ring I'd given her to collect the chunks of flesh scattered from our sparring session. She did it without flinching, carefully placing each piece inside the ring with the quiet diligence of someone accustomed to such grotesque tasks.
Maybe I was being too hard on her with this training. But paranoia had become second nature to me after the war. The clans' conflict had pushed me to prepare Wu Yan as quickly as possible to make sure she could survive on her own if anything ever happened to me. The war was over now, but peace was never permanent in this world.
"Anyone want tea?" My mother's voice broke the silence as she stepped out of the house, carrying a tray of steaming teacups.
"Sure, we could use a break," I said, waving Wu Yan over. "You don't need to push yourself physically today. Just remember the points I made during training."
Wu Yan nodded silently, taking my advice to heart as she always did. Her instincts weren't as sharp as most cultivators raised in martial households. But I wasn't worried about that. Martial instincts became less relevant as cultivation levels rose. In the end, raw cultivation talent mattered more. And Wu Yan had plenty of that.
If she reached the Nascent Soul stage one day, it wouldn't matter how skilled her opponent was at Core Formation.
When stepping on a bug, it didn't matter how quick or clever the bug was. The difference in strength was what truly counted.
Wu Yan rubbed the chin of her porcelain mask, a gesture she'd picked up after spending time with my family. It was her way of showing she was deep in thought, mimicking the subtle gestures she'd seen us use.
The sight made me chuckle.
It was comforting, in a way. Wu Yan had become like the little sister or perhaps the daughter I never had. Unfortunately, this wasn't a world where such familial bonds could thrive without risk.
I took a sip of tea, savoring the warmth.
"How about you?" I asked Fu Yating, watching her sip her tea with practiced elegance. "Do you want to try some light sparring?"
She froze, looking like a deer in headlights. Her expression was exaggerated and almost theatrical, but she blushed, glanced away, and meekly said, "Sure…"
Her tone might've fooled someone else. But I knew better.
The contrast between how she acted when my mother was around versus when we were alone was night and day. Around others, she played the timid, blushing bride-to-be. But when we were alone, her true personality slipped through. A calculating mind hiding behind soft smiles.
My mother's expression darkened for a moment. Her hand drifted to the scar on her face, tracing the jagged line absentmindedly. She looked like she wanted to say something but held back, simply sighing and turning away.
Fu Yating and I finished our tea and returned the empty cups to the tray. We walked to the middle of the yard, where patches of snow melted into muddy slush.
Despite her outward reluctance, I noticed the glint in her eyes. A spark of curiosity, of determination. She wasn't just playing along. She wanted to know how much had changed since her cultivation had been shattered.
"You can go first," I said, motioning for her to begin.
She didn't need to be told twice.
Fu Yating closed the distance between us quickly. Faster than an ordinary human, though not as fast as a full-fledged cultivator. Despite having her cultivation crushed, her physical strength remained. Most cultivators retained their enhanced bodies after their Qi was severed, depending on the stage they'd reached when it happened.
In Fu Yating's case, her body had been broken just enough to prevent her from advancing further, but she was still far stronger than any mortal.
Her movements were sharp and precise. She didn't waste time with unnecessary flourishes. Her footfalls were nearly silent on the wet ground as she darted toward me, closing the distance in a blur.
But I was used to faster opponents.
By the time she reached striking distance, I could've mentally recited the entire Bee Movie script if I wanted to.
She launched a punch aimed straight at my jaw. I sidestepped easily, catching her wrist with a firm but not harsh grip.
"Your speed is good," I said, releasing her. "But your approach is too straightforward. Anyone with decent reflexes could dodge."
Fu Yating didn't look discouraged. She pulled back, eyes narrowing slightly as if recalculating her next move. Her lips curled into a faint smile.
"You're not holding back," she said softly.
"Of course not. What's the point of sparring if I go easy on you?"
She laughed quietly. "Good. I'd hate it if you treated me like I'm fragile."
Her gaze flickered toward the house for a moment, where my mother was likely still occupied with her recipes. The facade of the shy and demure bride-to-be was gone, replaced by something sharper, more genuine.
This was the real Fu Yating. The one who thrived in scheeming. The one who hid her ambitions behind a mask of innocence.
"Again?" she asked, tilting her head.
I smiled faintly. "Sure. Let's see if you've improved."
Fu Yating dropped into a low stance, and the tension between us shifted. The playful air from before was gone. This wasn't just a sparring session anymore. This was a dance of calculated moves.
She lunged again.
This time, there was more nuance in her movements, a feint here, a shift in weight there. She was testing me, probing for weaknesses. I parried each strike with ease, but I couldn't deny the spark of satisfaction that came from seeing her adapt.
Maybe I was right to expect more from her.
Fu Yating wasn't just a survivor. She was a strategist.
And as much as I hated to admit it, a part of me relished the thought of matching wits with her.
After all, the most dangerous games are the ones we play with those we can't fully trust.
She threw a palm strike toward my chest, aiming for my stomach. It was slow, sloppy, and painfully predictable.
I took half a step back, just enough to let her hand sweep past me harmlessly.
"How often did you spar with your fellow cultivators or seniors in the Azure Frost Sect?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Her lack of power was understandable, given her shattered cultivation. Still, that form was so careless and unrefined that it didn't belong to someone raised in a martial family, let alone someone trained in one of the most prestigious sects on the continent.
Fu Yating smiled softly. "We don't have much of a sparring culture in the Azure Frost Sect. Most of our focus is on refining internal techniques. There are branches dedicated to miscellaneous skills. After all, the sect is primarily led by women, and not every cultivator is a muscle-headed brawler."
I kept my expression neutral, but inwardly, I scoffed.
Yeah, that was bullshit.
The Azure Frost Sect wasn't one of the Four Great Sects because its disciples excelled at embroidery and tea ceremonies. They held their position through ruthless cunning, dangerous techniques, and a leadership that wasn't afraid to get their hands bloody.
The way she phrased it made it sound like the cultivation world had just done the Azure Frost Sect a favor by granting them their position at the top. Just the guys doing something nice for the ladies.
Fucking ridiculous.
If a sect couldn't compete for power, they'd be torn apart for their resources. The cultivation world wasn't a place where niceties mattered. You didn't stay at the top by turning the other cheek; you held your ground by breaking bones and crushing throats.
"That is so cute," my mother's voice came from the sidelines, warm and approving.
Ah.
So, I wasn't the target of Fu Yating's little story.
She was playing to my mother, crafting the image of a well-mannered, proper young woman. A perfect daughter-in-law in every way.
Despite the scar across her face, my mother hadn't seen much of the harsh realities of the outside world. She had her own views on what made a good woman for her son. And Fu Yating, ever perceptive, was reading her like an open book.
I couldn't help but respect the effort. Learning cooking and homemaking skills when she could have been cultivating or mastering new techniques must have taken a lot of patience. It wasn't easy to play two roles at once: the harmless fiancée and the survivor.
"How about this?" Fu Yating's voice pulled me from my thoughts.
She kicked a blanket of melting snow toward me, her boots slicing through the wet slush with a playful cry. "Surprise attack!"
Of course, I saw it coming long before she even lifted her foot.
The difference in our reaction speed was far too vast. Before her sheepskin boots even touched the snow, I knew exactly what she planned to do.
With a swift motion, I cut through the incoming snow with a sideways chop of my hand, scattering the slush into harmless fragments.
But Fu Yating had used that split second of distraction to grab a snowball. Her fingers curled around it, and there was a brightness in her gaze and a glimmer of joy.
She threw a look my way, her lips curving into a smile that seemed genuinely happy. For a fleeting moment, it looked like one of those moments you'd see in a storybook romance. Time slowed down, the edges of the world softening as her expression lit up with something resembling love.
But before she could even swing her arm to throw the snowball, I closed the distance between us in an instant.
With a quick movement, I plucked the snowball from her hand and patted her on the shoulder. "You should protect your head more," I said casually. "Your swing leaves you wide open."
Fu Yating blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly. Then she sighed in defeat, brushing the remaining snow off her sleeve.
From the doorway, my mother called out, "Oh, I left some tea boiling. I should check on it."
Whether that was true or just an excuse to leave us alone, I couldn't be sure. My mother wasn't subtle, but she was perceptive in her own way.
As soon as she disappeared inside, Fu Yating's cheerful demeanor faded. Her shoulders relaxed, and her lips twisted into a faint pout.
"Thank you for the lesson," she muttered, her voice quieter now that we were alone.
Then her gaze drifted toward the house, her expression thoughtful.
"By the way… that girl," she said slowly, "is she a Qi Gathering cultivator?"
I tilted my head. "That girl?"
I knew exactly who she was talking about, but I wanted to see if she'd get annoyed and let her emotions cloud her judgment.
"Wu Yan," she clarified, her tone calm and measured.
"Yes. She's at Qi Gathering," I confirmed. "Her talent is quite something."
Fu Yating winced slightly. "The Liu Clan was lucky to have her, wasn't it? She can't be older than sixteen."
How did she know Wu Yan's age? My mother must have unconsciously revealed quite a bit in those conversations.
"Actually, she's close to reaching Foundation Establishment," I added.
Fu Yating's gaze sharpened at that, and her fingers flexed subtly as if gripping an invisible weapon.
"And where did you even find her?" she asked, her voice soft with curiosity.
I offered her a cryptic smile. "Fate works in mysterious ways."
She didn't react to my answer, not visibly. No raised brows, no curious tilt of her head. She remained composed, her expression perfectly neutral.
I'd hoped to provoke a reaction from her, to see if I could make her drop the mask, even for a moment. But she remained unshakable.
Interesting.
"You're not going to tell me," she said after a beat, her lips quirking into a knowing smile. "Fair enough."
Fu Yating was many things, calculating, manipulative, and far more dangerous than she let on. But what made her genuinely intriguing was her adaptability. She didn't push for answers when it was apparent none would come. Instead, she stored the information away, undoubtedly planning how to use it later.
And that was what made her dangerous.