He touched the eyelashes like a mischievous child, then softly called out the honorific of the person on the bed with a clear, bright voice full of youthful energy.
"Immortal Venerable?"
As expected, there was no reply.
Bi Lian was not worried at all. The roles had been reversed; he held Shen Yue's life and death in his hands. What did it matter if he was discovered?
If he truly displeased Shen Yue, he could silently abduct her to the demonic realm, and who would discover it? Even if they did, who could stop him?
Therefore, he was completely fearless.
His presence here was merely born of a desire to toy with Shen Yue. When he grew bored, he could simply strike her down with a single blow, without so much as batting an eye.
The white-robed immortal, her spirit dulled by torment, did not sense anything amiss with him. Her breathing was faint, her lips tightly pressed together.
She kept her eyes closed as a subconscious act, for her unusual pupils brought too much disaster.
Her jade-like fingers still tightly clutched the youth's sleeve, tangling the corner of the fabric into a mess.
Her eyes were closed, her silver hair like snow, her eyelashes beautiful and snow-white, her lips bitten and bitten again, vibrant and decadent.
Her lips parted slightly, and she spoke.
She said, "...Rong Hua... Do you wish to die?"
The smile on Bi Lian's lips slowly turned cold. He seemed to find Shen Yue's words utterly laughable. In her dreams, she practically wanted to kill him. If she knew he had escaped, would she want to kill him again?
The answer was undeniable.
Bi Lian could almost without hesitation confirm that once Shen Yue knew his identity, she would kill him without a second thought.
He looked at her slender, jade-like hand, as delicate as a magnolia flower, with icy, mocking contempt. He truly wanted to break it.
But what he wanted even more was to rip out her tendons and shatter her bones, to ensure she could never wield a sword again, to ensure she could never point a sword at him!
Did someone who wholeheartedly wished to kill him deserve any pity?
If that was the case, then he had no reason to be soft-hearted.
After all, nothing could leave a more profound impression than pain.
The faint trace of pity that had surfaced due to Shen Yue's excessively frail and beautiful appearance quickly vanished. He couldn't even bear to look at her face anymore, having lost all patience. All that remained was a pure, primal urge to vent. With a large, rough hand, he yanked, tearing the elaborately embroidered belt clean off and carelessly discarding it on the ground.
With the sudden loosening of the belt, the soft, wide white shirt immediately unfurled, layer upon layer, like a blooming white camellia, creating a striking visual impact.
Snow-white hair, a pale face, frost-white eyelashes, and lips more vibrant than blood.
She was like an immortal who had fallen into the mortal realm.
Decadent yet sacred.
Her exposed collarbones were slender and prominent, like the crescent moon at the bottom of the sea.
The fragrance seemed to intensify, drilling into his nostrils with every breath, sweet but not cloying, intoxicatingly addictive.
No one could refuse the beauty before their eyes.
Bi Lian gazed, then leaned down. His handsome and refined face was filled with a fanatical expression, yet his eyes were calm, shrouded in a gloomy darkness, harboring a hidden danger and violence ready to erupt.
His voice was hoarse. This time, he did not feign the innocent boy's tone but used his true voice—grating, hoarse, like the sound of sharp stones rubbing against each other.
The boy should have been pleased, his tone light and cheerful, "Immortal Venerable, does it still hurt? Shall I touch you? It won't hurt if I touch it."
He spoke vulgar words, yet his expression lacked any trace of ambiguity or tenderness.
There was a cruel indifference.
There was a calm desire.
Her snow-like eyelashes trembled slightly. She tilted her head, her neck forming a beautiful, smooth arc, long and slender.
She was in pain, as the boy had maliciously played a little trick.
Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, yet she endured it desperately, not even letting out a single moan of pain.
Bi Lian was still somewhat dissatisfied. He wanted to hear Shen Yue cry out in pain. The more Shen Yue endured silently, the more he wished to break her.
He took Shen Yue's silence as consent. Bi Lian quickly cast aside his dissatisfaction and, with pleasure, reached out to touch the last layer of cloth on her body.
It was thin, very soft fabric.
The white-robed immortal's chest rose and fell rapidly, her heart beating fast, a warm and powerful rhythm.
He could have easily torn it apart with a single pull; this fabric was nothing in his hands, but he didn't want to.
He savored the sensation as the fabric peeled away layer by layer, revealing an increasingly slender and delicate body, like unwrapping a cherished and valuable gift.
The body beneath him seemed to sense danger; she trembled slightly, as if trying to escape, but no matter how she twisted or turned, she couldn't get away.
Her clear, cold voice was slightly hoarse, imbued with a tempting, inexplicable sensuality.
"Rong Hua..."
She was calling another name. Although it was another persona of hers, it still belonged to someone else. Bi Lian had never considered himself to have two selves.
He felt a flicker of displeasure and pinched the white-robed immortal's cheek, which was soft and cool.
Her cheek was contorted by his pinch, her brow furrowing tighter. Bi Lian pinched with malicious intent.
Shen Yue seemed to find it unbearable. She reached out, trying to push away the hands that were pinching her face, but no matter how she pulled or tugged, those hands were like iron clamps, unyielding.
His voice, hoarse, was filled with deep malice and gloom.
"Immortal Venerable, have you forgotten? Your disciple died long ago, killed by your own hands. Why are you still calling him now?"
Her snow-white face twisted slightly, but it was forcibly held by one hand, easily and effortlessly. She was in pain, not just from the physical agony, but perhaps from a pain originating from the depths of her heart, a pain more unbearable than any bodily torment.
Her lips were too vividly colored, bitten and re-bitten earlier, now moist as if she had just fed on human blood like a siren.
She was still murmuring, seemingly hearing Bi Lian's words.
"I killed him..."
The cruelty and mockery in the depths of Bi Lian's eyes intensified. He didn't even want to hear her voice anymore. His hand slid down, stopping at her slender neck, then his fingers slowly closed, tightening with force.
A sense of suffocation gradually spread. The white-robed immortal did not struggle; she seemed trapped in a nightmare, her blood-red lips speaking.
"Rong Hua... it hurts..."
Bi Lian's hand froze.
The faint voice continued to speak intermittently.
"I lied to him..."
"It actually hurts a lot."