He could accept any punishment, but he couldn't accept Shen Yue's indifference, her expression as if she might discard him at any moment.
"Master... shall I make you peach blossom soup?"
His eyes lit up, as if he had finally found his worth, fawning and anxious.
Shen Yue's composure faltered, her emanating coldness intensifying, aloof and transcendent.
It was just like the scene when Rong Hua, awakened from a nightmare, first saw Shen Yue. Peach blossoms swayed, petals flew everywhere, her slender, delicate figure like a green bamboo, her eyes covered by a white cloth, surpassing the myriad pink hues.
Under the man's surprised, burning gaze, Shen Yue also squatted down. Even kneeling, the man was taller than her, yet now he couldn't help but crane his neck towards her.
His forehead lightly touched Shen Yue's shoulder. His nose was filled with a faint, sweet fragrance, as if mixed with the rich scent of peach blossoms, yet it couldn't mask her own aroma.
He nuzzled dependently. Shen Yue didn't push him away, which made him grin with delight. Just as he was about to softly call out "Master" in a coaxing tone, a pair of cold hands reached for the back of his neck.
Before Rong Hua could even react, intense pain shot from the back of his neck. The icy fingers seemed to pierce his skin, like blades. He could no longer control himself, letting out a low groan of pain.
Shen Yue's indifferent voice echoed in his ears.
"It will hurt less soon."
She sounded as if comforting him, yet not.
Amidst this extreme, overwhelming agony, Rong Hua's ears went deafening, his eyes blind, all senses lost, only the bone-gnawing pain creeping in inch by inch, as if breaking all his bones one by one.
"Ah—"
Blood wept like a crimson tear, even causing disciples of lower cultivation to bleed from their seven orifices from the shock.
In his daze, Rong Hua opened a sliver of his eyes. He gazed at the side profile of the white-robed immortal, like never-melting ice and snow, serene and cruel.
He was trembling, his entire body quaking. His head rested on the white-robed immortal's shoulder, the thick scent of blood now overpowering the faint fragrance.
"Mas...ter."
He softly uttered, as if with all his remaining strength.
In his blurred vision, he clearly saw the white-robed immortal remain unmoved, like a jade carving.
The white cloth was pulled down. She tightly closed her eyes, yet her long, thick eyelashes quivered slightly.
"Master, I'm in so much pain..."
"So much pain... kill me..."
"...Let me die."
That white robe was already stained beyond recognition. His fingers still tightly clutched her hem, knuckles white, fingertips pale.
His eyelashes were speckled with blood droplets, his breathing heavy and short, hoarse and broken, as if his throat was being choked.
"Master lied to me... didn't you say it would hurt less soon? Why does it hurt more and more?"
Shen Yue's eyes remained tightly shut, her butterfly-wing-like eyelashes seeming poised for flight.
Her voice was low, beside his ear, like a sweet whisper.
"Bear with it. If it hurts, bite me, alright?"
But the actions at the back of his neck had not wavered an inch.
Rong Hua could no longer distinguish where the pain was greatest, but for some reason, hearing Shen Yue's words, he felt the pain lessen. The simple-minded him could never hide his emotions, a joyful, happy smile appearing on his face, his eyes like shining starlight.
His voice carried a deep dependence. Coughing up blood, which splattered onto her as well, he said, "Master, look at me. Look at me, and I won't hurt anymore."
The Xin Qing Hall snowed year-round, but these snowflakes were different from ordinary ones. They didn't feel cold when they landed on the body, nor did they carry any warmth, much like Xin Qing Hall itself.
The man's low pleas in his ear caused Shen Yue's eyelashes to still their trembling. After a long pause, she finally granted his wish and slowly opened her eyes.
Those beautiful eyes were enough to eclipse all things in heaven and earth.
At this moment, her eyes, clear as rippling water, reflected only him. Though she knew Shen Yue couldn't see, a strange sense of satisfaction bloomed in his heart.
He let out a low laugh, chilling to the bone.
"Master... am I going to die?"
Shen Yue's body stiffened, her face paling from white to whiter.
The disciples of Qing Yun Sect outside could not hear any sound, only seeing the tall, blood-stained figure kneeling on the ground, much too close to the clean white figure.
Jiang Ling clenched the sword in his hand, sweat pouring down his forehead. But as soon as he approached, he was repelled by the power of the formation.
He could only look at Xuan Cheng, his face filled with worry.
"Elder Xuan Cheng, why did you let Master go alone? What if the Demon God..."
Jiang Ling dared not voice these terrible speculations, but his emotions grew more agitated and tense, his gaze never leaving that white silhouette.
Xuan Cheng remained silent. Half of his profile was devilishly handsome, but his face now held no trace of casualness. His solemn aura made the already frigid atmosphere even more oppressive.
One of them also expressed concern, "Yes, that's the Demon God! What if he suddenly goes berserk? How can Immortal Venerable stop him alone?"
From birth, the Demon God possessed power rivaling that of gods, though it was suppressed. Once the seal was broken, it would be a catastrophe for the world, bringing ruin and suffering to the people.
While Xi Yu Immortal Venerable was undoubtedly powerful, he was still no match for a god.
How could Xuan Cheng not be nervous? He was afraid too. But upon seeing Shen Yue carefully extracting the man's bones, the tension in his heart finally eased.
As long as the demonic bone was removed, the Demon God would perish, and there would be no more Demon God.
The Demon God, whom they perceived as fierce and cruel, was now leaning quietly in Shen Yue's arms, his chin resting on her slender shoulder.
He asked again, "Master wants my life, doesn't she?"
His answer was still silence.
But in the silence, Rong Hua knew the answer.
His heart and lungs felt as if they were being torn apart, excruciating pain coursing through his body. His pupils dilated, he smiled, and then took the sword from Shen Yue's hand.
His voice, unusually devoid of its usual foolishness, was now gentle and doting.
"How could I possibly let Master dirty her hands?"
Shen Yue couldn't see, but she could hear the sound of the blade piercing flesh and the dripping of blood.
The thick, metallic scent in her nostrils was almost nauseating. Her pale, slender fingers trembled slightly. She raised her hand, as if reaching out to touch something.
A soft, warm cheek nuzzled against her hand, docile and tender.
Shen Yue felt his lips, finding that he seemed to be smiling, yet his cheeks were wet, whether with blood or tears, she didn't know.
He sighed softly beside her ear, as light as the wind, "Master... are you still angry with me?"