Chapter 82 I must learn to beg him in order to survive…
Bright lights were lit everywhere in the sleeping quarters.
Deep within the layers of curtains, Sheng Zhiyi sat on the edge of the bed, watching everything with a blank expression.
A palace maid opened a rosewood cabinet with dragon and phoenix patterns, revealing neatly arranged clothes inside. "Miss Sheng, these were personally prepared for you by His Majesty. All kinds of silks and satins are available, tailored to your measurements..."
Under the light, the fabric shimmered with a subtle glow, creating a magnificent and beautiful effect.
Seeing that Sheng Zhiyi did not react, she closed the cabinet door, and the other palace maids filed in carrying trays.
The tray was filled with precious treasures: East China Sea red coral, jade and glass beads, a purple-gold relief hand warmer... Illuminated by the lights in the hall, they shimmered and dazzled, almost blinding the eyes.
The head palace maid knelt down, raised the tray above her head, and whispered, "Miss Sheng, these are all gifts from His Majesty."
She knelt before Sheng Zhiyi, a pure white glass hairpin resting quietly on a red tray, its light shimmering and its elegance understated. Sheng Zhiyi's eyes trembled slightly.
Ji Fuguang walked over, picked up the hairpin, and said in a low voice, "Step back."
The palace maids left one by one.
Twisting the hairpin gently between his fingers, Ji Fuguang seemed to realize something, and his gaze softened a little. "You really do like hairpins."
Clearly, he had also thought of the hairpin he had given to Sheng Zhiyi before.
Ji Fuguang gave Sheng Zhiyi two hairpins. The first was an ordinary, even somewhat inferior, butterfly hairpin, which had become dull and lost its luster over time, and some of the gemstones had even fallen off. The second was a bamboo hairpin that he had casually polished, which was elegant and unique, but somewhat rough.
On both occasions, Sheng Zhiyi accepted the gifts with a joyful expression and wore them every day without any sign of dislike or dissatisfaction.
The glass hairpin in front of me is made of superior materials and is exquisitely crafted. It is pure white and flawless, yet it has an ethereal and otherworldly quality that makes it clearly an extraordinary piece.
Holding the hairpin, Ji Fuguang raised his hand and gently inserted it into Sheng Zhiyi's hair bun.
He was about to say something when Sheng Zhiyi suddenly pushed him away.
Sheng Zhiyi tilted her head back, a cold smile playing on her lips: "You think you can buy me off with these things? After trampling on others, you throw down some rewards and expect me to be grateful? Ji Fuguang, let me tell you—"
In the dimly lit bedchamber, her eyes shone like stars as she spoke, word by word, "I am a human being, not a dog wagging its tail for mercy."
A surge of intense anger welled up in Ji Fuguang's heart.
What makes her so special?
Her meridians were sealed, a collar was around her neck, and a restriction was placed inside her body. If he wanted, he could easily take her life with just a flick of his finger.
She knew this perfectly well, but upon returning to the Demon Palace, in order to make her clearly aware of her status and to make her obedient and compliant, he ordered her to be sent to the water dungeon, where she suffered endless torture and even fainted.
Despite the vast difference between them, she was in a subordinate position, so why did she still act this way, daring to say she hated him and look at him with such eyes?
She should obey him more than anyone else!
Sheng Zhiyi tilted her head back, revealing her slender neck, looking as if she were offering her neck for execution.
She's already made up her mind tonight and doesn't care about this little conflict.
After enduring these days of forbearance, she finally understood. If she had to spend the rest of her life suppressing her will and being a mindless puppet, she would rather die.
Or rather, she now simply hopes that Ji Fuguang, in his rage, will kill her directly to prevent her from suffering endless torment.
Sheng Zhiyi stood up, ripped off the glass hairpin, and slammed it to the ground.
The hard jade hairpin made a crisp sound and broke into several pieces, with fine jade shavings scattered around it, clearly beyond repair.
Ji Fuguang's eyes grew increasingly dark and turbulent, churning with monstrous emotions. If a demon saw such a gaze, he would immediately be terrified and kneel down to beg for mercy. But Sheng Zhiyi still held her chin high, her eyes calm, even with a hint of disdain.
If a person is no longer afraid of death, and even longs to embrace it, then what in this world is there for her to cherish?
Beneath Ji Fuguang's surging anger, a trace of bewilderment began to emerge.
Why is it only her who can't do it?
These rare treasures would have delighted anyone who gave them to them, but she remained indifferent and didn't even glance at them.
Isn't the whole point of life—the petty scheming and the mundane pursuits—for these very things?
When he was the senior disciple of the Tianyan Sect, she would happily accept even the cheapest trinkets he gave her. Why does she not even glance at them now?
What's the difference between then and now?
A ridiculous idea suddenly popped into Ji Fuguang's mind.
Is it for the sake of so-called dignity?
Isn't this just something fabricated to give one's behavior a respectable veneer?
Is it really possible that someone actually took it seriously?
If she had experienced the agony of going without a single grain of rice for several days, would she still feel this way?
Ji Fuguang smiled coldly, grabbed Sheng Zhiyi's chin, and forced her to open her mouth.
"Junior Sister is indeed extremely temperamental. Not only did she dare to plot her escape in secret, but she even dared to smash the jade hairpin in front of me. Since she doesn't want what I'm giving her, very well. From today onwards, there will be no more rewards in the palace, including meals."
Just as he finished speaking and was about to let go, Sheng Zhiyi seized an opportunity and bit down hard on his palm.
In her haste, she only managed to bite his fingertip, and a bead of red blood slowly trickled down his slender finger.
Ji Fuguang did not dodge, but instead sneered, his smile full of contempt.
Sheng Zhiyi understood what he meant.
He's saying that this is all the effort you've put in, and this is all you can do?
Seemingly having watched enough of this farce, Ji Fuguang abruptly withdrew his hand and turned to leave the bedchamber.
"It seems that Junior Sister has been through a sudden upheaval and is still not fully aware of the situation. No worries, she will surely come to her senses in a few days."
I am keenly aware that I must learn to beg him in order to survive.
Sheng Zhiyi began to go hungry.
This feeling initially struck her as strange.
As a cultivator, she was already able to live on air and dew, and not eat grains. The things she usually ate were just out of habit, and she was also a little greedy.
Since arriving at the Demon Palace, Ji Fuguang has completely sealed her spiritual power. She is no different from ordinary people; she will feel hungry if she doesn't eat.
After a brief period of wonder, Sheng Zhiyi began to suffer. The hunger soon made her feel as if she were being slowly cooked over a low flame. Whether she was walking or sleeping, she could not ignore this feeling. Her internal organs were reminding her that she was starving.
Her stomach was empty. At first, she drank a lot of tea to fool herself and resist the hunger for a while, but soon this method lost its effect, and the hunger drove her to find something she could eat.
To suppress her uncontrollable hunger, Sheng Zhiyi sat cross-legged in meditation.
Originally, he was a cultivator who lived on air and dew and did not eat grains. The food he ate was just a habit, plus Sheng Zhiyi was a bit greedy.
However, since entering the Demon Palace, Ji Fuguang has placed numerous restrictions on her body, making her no different from an ordinary person.
Sheng Zhiyi could clearly feel that her limbs were weak from hunger, and dark shadows were coming into her vision. She could barely maintain her posture while meditating. Under such circumstances, it was naturally difficult to enter a state of mental concentration. At most, she was just changing her posture to endure hunger.
Sheng Zhiyi slowly understood why some beggars were willing to risk their lives for a bite to eat; hunger was simply too painful. If that person hadn't been Ji Fuguang, perhaps she would have given in.
But the one thing she absolutely didn't want to do was compromise with Ji Fuguang.
It's not just about so-called dignity; there are many other things as well.
She knew what Ji Fuguang was thinking: he felt that those vague and ethereal things weren't that important, and everyone would kneel and beg for mercy under his combination of kindness and coercion.
But for Sheng Zhiyi, these things are very important.
Hidden within these ethereal and intangible things lies her heartfelt sincerity at the age of nineteen.
That day, Sheng Zhiyi couldn't even maintain the most basic sitting posture while meditating, and her whole body was swaying precariously.
She didn't look in the mirror, but she knew that she must look gaunt and emaciated.
However, even in this precarious state, in a semi-conscious state, her consciousness somehow managed to penetrate into her dantian through the previously opened crack.
Perhaps she was too weak from hunger, for she didn't even show any surprise, staring blankly at the sword spirit in her dantian.
Shocked by the demonic energy, the sword spirit's voice became somewhat faint and unclear.
"I am aware of the situation... I didn't expect it to turn out this way... Now that things have come to this... there are some things I have to say..."
Sheng Zhiyi had long suspected something about the gods. Having nothing to do these past few days, she had thought about it repeatedly to distract herself. Hearing the sword spirit's words, she instinctively replied:
"What is my relationship with the gods? Is the strategy system related to the gods? Why am I here?"
Seemingly surprised by Sheng Zhiyi's question, the sword spirit paused for a moment before saying:
"It seems you've already guessed... So I'll keep it short... During the war between gods and demons... it was discovered that... the power of the demons was far too great..."
The result of the war between gods and demons was the annihilation of the entire god race, while the demon race was merely sealed away, which shows the difference between them.
"The rise and fall of the demon race depends on the Demon Lord alone... The patriarch of the god race burned his lifespan to divine... The Demon Lord of this era was flawless... But after the Demon Lord's reincarnation, there will be cause and effect... The only cause and effect is you... You are a member of the god race... You were just born then... To ensure your survival... you were sent to other small worlds..."
"To get you closer to the Demon Lord as soon as possible... the gods have implanted a magical artifact into your consciousness... it will be activated upon entering this realm..."
Now everything makes sense! No wonder she had this extraordinary encounter, no wonder the strategy system guided her to get close to Ji Fuguang from the very beginning, no wonder Jing Hongyu recognized her as her master...
“But now Ji Fuguang hasn’t been won over at all. I’m in trouble myself, and he’s even put a collar on me.” Sheng Zhiyi gave a bitter smile.
Then, her thoughts, dulled by hunger, slowly returned to normal. "Since you say you know the current situation, do you have a way to help me?"
"This is a forbidden technique of the Demon Clan... There is only one way to break it... Obtain the heart's blood of the Demon Lord, which possesses positive emotions..."
Sheng Zhiyi said as if she had heard a joke, "What you're saying is nonsense, completely impossible. Ji Fuguang is a heartless person."
The sword spirit was inherently incompatible with demonic energy, and the following words completely disregarded Sheng Zhiyi's reaction, continuing, "You need to make him develop positive feelings towards you... feelings that can counteract the anger in the collar... that's the only way..."
The voice grew increasingly faint and indistinct, until it finally disappeared completely.
"Sword Spirit!"
Sheng Zhiyi shouted, but received no response.
Her emotions fluctuated, and her consciousness immediately left her dantian and returned to her sleeping quarters.
At the same time, due to prolonged hunger and general weakness, Sheng Zhiyi's vision went black in her excitement. She vaguely saw a dark figure and, without thinking, fainted.
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