Chapter 45 Torture Him for the Seventh Lifetime
The hatred was sharper and more profound than before.
This time, there can be no more accidents. She must watch him walk towards destruction with her own eyes and ensure that he is doomed forever!
Without the slightest hesitation, she followed the path of her memory and once again slipped into the dark alley outside the Drunken Immortal Pavilion.
As expected, Huang Jiang, the leader of the Baiyang Society, remained lurking in place, just like a chess piece destined to be moved on the chessboard of fate.
Fangru emerged from the shadows, repeating the words she had spoken in her previous life.
This time, however, the frost in her eyes was even heavier, and the certainty in her tone left no room for doubt.
She was like a precise prophet, pointing out every ambush point and predicting every move of Zhou Ling's followers.
The doubts in Huang Jiang's eyes were gradually replaced by amazement. Under her "precognition" guidance, the inescapable net was laid even more tightly than in her previous life.
The moment Zhou Ling stepped into the center of the trap, Fang Ru's heart pounded like a drum.
She watched coldly as the high and mighty emperor was led into this meticulously crafted cage by her own hands.
Inside the interrogation room, the air was as thick and sticky as congealed blood.
The torches flickered uneasily, stretching and twisting the shadows of the various grotesque instruments of torture hanging on the wall, like countless prying ghosts.
Fangru hid in the deepest shadows, like a piece of ice that refused to melt.
Her gaze was fixed on the man in the center of the room, who was chained with an iron chain as thick as a child's arm.
Zhou Ling.
His brocade robe was torn, and a few strands of his dark hair were soaked with sweat, sticking to his well-defined cheeks.
He was a prisoner, a lamb to the slaughter.
Yet, strangely enough, there was not a trace of dishevelment or panic on his handsome, almost otherworldly face.
What settled between her brows was an almost languid composure, and the corners of her lips even held a faint, yet powerfully arrogant curve that could ignite all of Fangru's anger.
He sat there not like a prisoner on trial, but more like a king who had temporarily condescended to examine his own territory.
This deep-seated sense of control is damnably similar to the manipulative expression he had in my memory!
In Fangru's chest, hatred boiled and surged like magma.
She couldn't give him any more chances! She absolutely couldn't let those thin lips utter those seductive words again!
"We can't let him speak!"
She suddenly stepped out of the shadows, her voice sharp and decisive, interrupting Huang Jiang's routine questioning.
The firelight illuminated her pale and resolute face.
He must be killed immediately!
She pointed at Zhou Ling, her fingertips trembling slightly as she tried to control herself. "Every word he says is a lie! Once he finds a loophole, we'll be the ones who die!"
Huang Jiang frowned, clearly displeased that his plan had been disrupted: "Miss Shen, the sect leader's order is..."
"He won't write a self-reproach edict!"
Fangru interrupted sharply, her gaze fixed on Zhou Ling, "He's stalling for time! Look into his eyes!"
Just then, Zhou Ling raised his eyes.
Those deep eyes, piercing through the dim light, precisely captured her gaze.
There was no anger, no pleading, not even surprise.
There was a kind of... playful exploration, a bottomless calm, as if admiring a bird that had finally revealed its claws.
His gaze slowly and intensely swept over her chest, which was heaving slightly with excitement, before finally returning to her eyes, which burned with hatred.
An invisible, powerful tension spread like a tide.
Even when chained and severely injured, he still exuded a deadly attraction—a dangerous aura born from a mixture of power, cunning, and absolute self-confidence.
He didn't need to say a word; just a glance was enough to declare that the initiative in this game had never truly slipped from his hands.
Huang Jiang was still hesitating.
Fangru, however, was driven almost mad by Zhou Ling's all-knowing gaze.
She couldn't wait any longer; she couldn't watch him use that damned composure to erode her resolve!
"Use torture!"
She practically screamed, her voice shrill and distorted, "Make him write a self-reproach letter! Or make him die!"
She had to shatter his mask, hear his broken cries, and confirm that the man who had controlled her nightmares for six lifetimes could also feel pain and beg for mercy!
Huang Jiang hesitated for a moment, then finally waved his hand.
Two burly men pressed Zhou Ling firmly onto the rack, while another man took a red-hot branding iron from the charcoal fire.
The dark red iron block hissed in the air, sparks flying everywhere.
"If Your Majesty confesses now, you can be spared this physical punishment," Huang Jiang said in a deep voice.
Zhou Ling slowly raised his head, sweat sliding down his sharply defined jawline, but his eyes shone with an astonishing light: "Do you think... I would be afraid of this?"
Before he could finish speaking, a red-hot branding iron was already firmly branded onto his chest.
The pungent smell of burning flesh filled the air instantly. Zhou Ling's body trembled violently, his teeth clenched so tightly that they clicked, but he managed to swallow back his cries of pain.
When the branding iron was removed, it left a hideous charred mark on his chest.
A second branding iron followed, this time on his shoulder blade.
Amidst the blood and gore, Fangru could even vaguely see the white bones.
Zhou Ling's fingernails dug deep into his palms, and blood dripped from between his fingers, but he still kept his back straight and did not even bend his knees.
"Is...that all you have?"
He asked breathlessly, his voice broken by the pain, yet carrying a chilling provocation.
Enraged, the executioner replaced the instrument with an even crueler one: an iron whip covered in barbs.
Each swing brought forth ripped flesh and blood, the barbs hooking onto the skin and tearing it apart, leaving the rack soon stained with blood.
Zhou Ling finally couldn't hold on any longer and knelt down on one knee. Blood gushed from countless wounds, pooling into a dark red puddle on the ground.
Just when Fangru thought he was finally about to give in, he raised his head, his disheveled black hair soaked with sweat and clinging to his pale cheeks: "You hate me so much..."
He chuckled softly, blood oozing from the corner of his lips. "Is it for Gu Zhou, or for... yourself?"
These words were like a sharp blade, precisely piercing the most hidden corner of Fangru's heart.
Her expression changed drastically, and her fingers unconsciously clenched her clothes.
"Use the hammer!" she thought fiercely. The torture methods of the Baiyang Society were enough to break any tough guy. She wanted to see how long Zhou Ling's calm facade could last!
His henchmen rushed forward, and the terrifying instruments of torture, stained with the blood of past prisoners, were mercilessly inflicted on Zhou Ling's chest.
The skin was torn open, and blood was dripping everywhere.
However, what chilled Fangru to the bone was that throughout the entire torture, Zhou Ling, apart from the suppressed groans of pain and the bulging veins on his forehead, never uttered a single word of pleading for mercy.
He didn't even glance at the burly man carrying out the execution.
Those deep, ancient eyes, piercing through the fog of blood and pain, remained fixed on Fangru with unwavering precision and subtlety.
The emotions surging within were complex and difficult to discern; it was neither hatred nor anger, but rather a kind of almost...burning exploration and savoring, as if carefully appreciating a vivid and distorted painting caused by extreme emotions, admiring every expression of her convulsing with hatred.
That look was like a barbed whip, lashing Fangru's soul and driving her almost to madness!
Unable to bear it any longer, she snatched the blood-stained whip from the henchman beside her and rushed to Zhou Ling.
"Zhou Ling!" Her voice trembled with extreme excitement, each word carrying a chilling edge.
Zhou Ling struggled to lift his heavy eyelids. Blood slid down his forehead and flowed over his handsome nose, only adding to his decadent and wicked air.
The corners of his mouth curled up again in that languid arc that Fangru hated to the bone. His voice was low and hoarse from his injuries, but it still had a captivating magnetism: "Miss Chen... are you in such a hurry to do it yourself... is it because you think they... aren't serving you well enough?"
He was slightly out of breath, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over her hand gripping the whip. "Or... do you just want me to... remember... how you look right now?"
Fangru trembled with rage and lashed his already damaged shoulder with a whip, leaving a fresh bloodstain: "You're about to die, and you still dare to talk so glibly!"
"Heh..." Zhou Ling gasped in pain, but chuckled softly, his eyes glazed over as he locked onto her. "To die beneath the peony... even as a ghost, I'd be romantic... to die at the hands of such a stunning beauty as Miss Shen... I couldn't ask for more..."
He paused, his breath weak, yet each word clear, "But... is it because you are so heartless, young lady... that you blame me... for not being proactive enough at the Drunken Immortal Pavilion? For failing to satisfy you...?"
This blatant flirting was like the most potent poison, instantly igniting all of Fangru's shame, anger, and hatred!
"You shameless!" she almost screamed as the whip rained down, each lash infused with the resentment and venom of her six lifetimes!
I'm going to tear your mouth apart!
Zhou Ling flinched under the intense whipping, but still managed to whisper intermittently between the lashes, his voice so soft that only Fang Ru, who was nearby, could hear him: "The young lady's hands... are trembling so badly... are you afraid... or... excited? I, on the other hand... am very excited... to be touched by your... hands..."
It wasn't until Zhou Ling was beaten until his skin was torn and bleeding, and he was barely breathing, seemingly exhausted even to lift his eyes, and could no longer make a sound, that Huang Jiang hurriedly stepped forward to pull Fang Ru back from the brink of losing control.
"Girl! We can't fight anymore! He's the emperor. If he dies here, I can't bear the consequences if the sect leader blames me! Let's stop here for today and wait for the sect leader to personally interrogate him in two days!"
Fangru looked at Zhou Ling, whose breath was weak, and a strong sense of unease gripped her once again.
"We can't stop! Any delay could lead to unforeseen problems!"
Fangru's voice was sharp with extreme hatred as she pointed sharply into the shadows of the wall.
Hanging there was an extremely bizarrely shaped torture device, entirely black, resembling an enlarged, twisted wolf's fang, its tip gleaming with a tempered, cold light, and its handle wrapped in dark red, old grime—the dried blood of countless victims.
This object is called a "throat-locking nail." It is rumored that it does not kill directly, but is driven into a hidden acupoint near the throat at a special angle. It can amplify the pain infinitely, causing people to experience inhuman torture of having their meridians ruptured and their throat bones shattered while they are still conscious, until they suffer a mental breakdown.
Use that one!
Fangru shouted sternly at the burly, iron-tower-like subordinate next to Huang Jiang, whose face was as stiff and cold as a stone sculpture, "Nail it in! I want to see if his bones are as hard as his mouth!"
The subordinate silently removed the chokehold nail.
The heavy black iron seemed weightless in his hands, but the chilling aura emanating from its tip caused the temperature in the entire interrogation room to drop several degrees.
He walked step by step toward Zhou Ling, the cold nail tip hovering precisely over the most vulnerable spot next to Zhou Ling's Adam's apple, his skin even trembling slightly from the extreme cold.
Fangru took a step closer and could almost see the bluish blood vessels under Zhou Ling's transparent skin due to blood loss.
She stared at his pale yet still breathtakingly handsome face, and said, word by word, "The feeling of this chokehold nail can make you regret ever being born. Beg for mercy now, and I might give you a quick death."
Zhou Ling's eyelashes trembled very slightly, like the last flap of a dying butterfly's wings.
He mustered all his remaining strength, his voice barely audible, yet carrying a strange calm: "I... feel... that this is the best course of action."
The final syllable of "好" has not completely dissipated!
The mutation erupted in a mere fraction of a second!
He didn't struggle or dodge; instead, he took the initiative to meet it head-on!
With the last of his strength, he thrust his head forward!
The movement was faster than anyone could react, precise, decisive, and without the slightest hesitation, as he slammed his most vulnerable throat into the sharp, deadly spike that was poised to strike!
"Pfft!"
A muffled thud, far more than any physical injury, exploded out, sending chills down your spine!
That wasn't cutting; it was the terrifying sound of a blunt instrument forcibly breaking through cartilage and fascia!
Hot blood, like a long-suppressed volcano erupting, suddenly gushed out!
Not only did it splatter all over the executioner's head and face, but it also poured over Fangru, who was standing right next to him!
A strong smell of blood instantly filled the air.
Zhou Ling's head slumped heavily, his chin resting on his blood-stained chest.
A large amount of blood quickly soaked through his already tattered clothes, pooling beneath him into a glaring, ever-expanding dark red stain.
The whole world seemed to have been muted.
Everyone froze, dumbfounded, unable to comprehend the horrifying scene before them.
Fangru was struck dumb, frozen in place, the warm blood on her face burning her skin and nerves like lava.
He... he actually used such an extreme, tragic, and almost self-destructive method as his final response to her coercion?!
He would rather end his own life in an instant than allow her will to be imposed on him, and he would disdain to give her even the slightest bit of submission or pleading that she desired!
This ruthless and merciless attitude towards the enemy, and even more so towards himself, was chillingly terrifying. It instilled in Fangru an uncontrollable, bone-chilling fear from the depths of her soul.
"Quick! Save him! He can't die here!"
Huang Jiang's roar changed tone, filled with panic and fear.
If the emperor dies in his interrogation room, not only will the White Sun Society's entire plan fail, but Huang Jiang's entire clan will be buried with him!
The scene immediately descended into chaos.
His subordinates frantically shouted, "The wound medicine, bandages, and hemostatic forceps are all next door!"
Several people hurriedly lifted Zhou Ling, whose neck was bleeding profusely and who seemed to have lost consciousness, and staggered towards the adjacent room.
The wooden door slammed shut behind them, temporarily blocking out the horrifying sight of blood.
Fangru seemed to be nailed to the spot, the warm blood splattered on her face quickly turning cold and sticky, just like her state of mind at that moment.
The expected, exhilarating feeling of revenge did not arrive. Instead, there was a huge, suffocating emptiness, and a deeper, soul-chilling fear.
She thought she hated him to the core, but seeing him destroy himself in such a tragic way, her heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, causing her excruciating pain.
This man... he can be so ruthless to himself, where exactly is his bottom line?
This terrifying realization made all her previous hatred seem pale and powerless.
The fear and confusion overwhelmed her like a tidal wave, but only a few breaths later!
"Ugh!"
First came a short, shrill scream from next door, followed by the ear-piercing sound of weapons clashing violently!
There were also dull thuds of flesh falling to the ground! Everything happened extremely fast, like a sudden storm!
Fangru's pupils suddenly contracted, and an ominous premonition struck her like lightning!
Could it be...?
"Bang!"
With a loud crash, the wooden door that had just been closed was violently slammed open from the inside by a burst of force!
Amidst the flying sawdust, a figure appeared boldly at the doorway, like a demon crawling out of a blood-soaked hell!
It's Zhou Ling!
He was covered in blood, his once magnificent robes were now stained beyond recognition, and blood was still bubbling from the wound on his neck. Every breath he took was a hoarse, grating sound, like a broken bellows. He was clearly seriously injured and on the verge of death.
But his eyes were terrifyingly bright, burning with an almost insane, sharp will!
In his hand, he tightly gripped a short knife that he had somehow managed to steal, its tip still dripping warm drops of blood.
His gaze, like a tangible chain, instantly and precisely captured Fangru, who stood frozen in the center of the room, her face deathly pale.
In those eyes, there was no cloudiness of a dying man, only raging fury, icy calculation, and a chilling, possessive desire that was determined to win!
Before she could react, Zhou Ling pounced on her like a cheetah, reeking of blood, and charged straight at her at an incredible speed!
Before Fangru could even cry out, her wrist was gripped tightly by a large, cold, sticky, blood-stained, yet incredibly strong hand!
That strength was not something a severely injured, dying person could possess!
"Don't move!"
His voice was terribly hoarse, each word brimming with bloodlust, yet possessing an undeniable authority and... a strange, intimate illusion close to her ear.
"If you want to live, come with me!"
He didn't intend to kill her! He wanted to kidnap her!
Fangru instantly understood his intentions, and the immense fear and anger of being fooled made her struggle desperately.
"Let me go! You..."
But Zhou Ling didn't give her a chance to resist at all.
He appeared weak as he leaned against her, but with a clever move, he practically half-carried and half-dragged her as he rushed toward a fine horse tethered in the corner of the courtyard.
That's the mount of Huang Jiang, the leader of the Baiyang Society!
The whole process was lightning fast. By the time the other Baiyang Society members recovered from their shock, Zhou Ling had already carried Fangru and mounted his horse!
"Stop him!"
"Release the arrows!"
Amidst the chaotic shouts, Zhou Ling spurred his horse, causing it to wince in pain and neigh loudly before shooting off like an arrow!
A few scattered arrows flew past their ears and embedded themselves in the earthen wall in front of them.
The horse was jolted violently.
Fangru was held tightly to Zhou Ling's chest, his burning body temperature and strong smell of blood almost suffocating her.
She struggled violently, trying to strike his wound with her elbow: "Let me go! You monster! You're faking it!"
"Heh..." A very soft, cold laugh came from above, accompanied by a painful gasp.
Instead of letting go, he held her even tighter, his hot breath spraying behind her sensitive ear, his voice low and clear: "If I hadn't sought my own death... how would I have had the chance... to access the 'medicine chest' next door?"
Fangru froze! A medicine box? That's not for medical treatment, could it be...?
A terrible thought flashed through my mind: he did it on purpose!
He had calculated the angle and force beforehand. That resolute, suicidal impact was simply to create chaos, giving him a chance to be carried to the next room and come into contact with those things that could be used as weapons!
He even knew exactly where Baiyang Society's weapons and first-aid supplies were located!
"As for feigning death..." Zhou Ling's voice was broken due to the jolt, but it carried a chilling calmness, "How could I... turn the tables and kill them in one fell swoop, in the instant when they thought I was doomed...?"
It turns out that his arrest, torture, and eventual "suicide" were all part of his plan!
He used his severe injuries and near-death experience to set up a perfect counterattack!
And she herself had become a key link in pushing this situation forward. It was she who insisted on using torture, and it was she who provided the opportunity for that "chokehold nail"!
A strong sense of frustration and fear of impending unknown retaliation sent chills down her spine.
She could feel the vibrations of the man's chest behind her, and the powerful control that had not dissipated even in this situation.
The horses charged into the dark woods, leaving their pursuers and the flames far behind.
During the bumpy ride, Zhou Ling seemed to have exhausted his strength, his heavy head resting limply against her neck, his hot breath brushing against her skin.
But the arm around her waist did not loosen its grip at all.
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