"Hey, listen here, young clerk. Not only do you fall asleep on the job, but you actually turn away paying customers... Where's your boss? Get your boss out here right now..."
If she could, Lan Qinghuan would have simply snatched the Soul Breath Grass and left.
This scrawny little clerk was a real eyesore. With his sharp chin and sunken cheeks, he looked every bit like a opportunistic villain who shifted with the wind. Seeing that her frame was slight, he had judged her through the lens of prejudice. At least she was wearing a brocade robe; if she had been in plain burlap, she probably wouldn't even have been allowed through the door.
"Heh, who do you think you are? Do you think our boss is going to come running just because you want him to? Do you even know who our boss is? It won't scare you to death to hear it—he is none other than the Bloodthirsty Fiend, Lord Xiye..."
This clerk was the nephew of the Spirit Elixir Pavilion's shopkeeper. Lacking any real skills, he was exceptionally good at flattery. When the shopkeeper had a sudden family emergency with just an hour left before closing, he had left the nephew here to mind the shop. The nephew had heard that this was Lord Xiye's territory and, dreaming of catching a glimpse of his idol in the flesh, had hurriedly crawled out of his warm bed. Who would have thought he'd walk into a ghost town?
The spacious, luxurious Spirit Elixir Pavilion was filled with shelves, cabinets, jars, bottles, flowers, and plants, but not a single living soul to talk to. After standing around for a little while, he had grown so bored he started dozing off. In his dream, he was fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with his idol in a bloody battle, only to be rudely awakened by this delicate, squeaky-clean young dandy who was deliberately looking for trouble.
He was furious. If it weren't for the decent clothes the customer was wearing, he would have loved to slap him flying.
"I don't care what kind of fiend he is! I need to buy two stalks of Soul Breath Grass today, no matter what. Hurry up and call him out here. I must demand an explanation from him—why won't he sell me the Soul Breath Grass?"
How infuriating! Born noble, when had Lan Qinghuan ever needed to waste her breath like this with anyone?
The world was always so pragmatic: the strong were revered, and the weak were trampled underfoot. Only by becoming strong—strong enough that those who bullied, mocked, and teased her could only gaze up at her toes—would those disgusting labels like "freak," "monster," "madman," and "idiot" leave her forever. When you stood high above, no one would ever dare to mock you again, not even those around you, who would never dare to casually harm you.
She had to be strong. She had to recover her former strength as a Martial God. No, she should become even stronger, surpassing that fellow Rulai at the very least. Otherwise, how was she supposed to settle scores with him? Had he actually sent Di Lianzhe to her side or not?
It was all her own fault for being carried away by Rulai's sweet promises back then. Lost in rosy illusions, she had completely forgotten that Rulai could easily go back on his word.
She needed to buy the Soul Breath Grass quickly and go back to drink the other drop of Jade Essence Fluid. She wanted to grow strong quickly—faster, even faster...
"Ha, ha, ha! You're cracking me up! Who do you think you are? Is Lord Xiye someone just anyone can see whenever they want? Even the old emperor himself has to make repeated formal requests in advance just to catch a glimpse of our lord! As for you, buzz off back where you came from, and stop getting in the way of my nap..."
The pale-faced clerk was all talk. Who was afraid of whom? It was a rare day for him to throw his weight around like this, and damn it, it felt good.
"What is wrong with you? I simply want to buy two stalks of Soul Breath Grass. If you can't make the call, can't you just find someone who can? Please?"
It was truly like trying to reason with an unreasonable soldier—there was no talking sense to this guy. Was it really this hard just to step out for a single trip? Lan Qinghuan had no choice but to bite her tongue and try to reason gently and patiently with the clerk."Right now, I'm the one calling the shots here, and I said I am not selling you any Soul Breath Grass. What are you going to do about it? Hit me, if you dare..."
She had only ever heard of the Spirit Elixir Pavilion buying Soul Breath Grass, never of the uncle selling any. So what if he refused to sell? This punk definitely couldn't beat him.
"You..." Lan Qinghuan was fit to burst with rage. Even without true qi or spiritual power, did he really think she was some pushover? If she hadn't been desperate to buy the Soul Breath Grass, would she have wasted so much breath on him here?
Anyway, negotiations had completely broken down. If they were going to fight, they'd fight—what was the big deal?
With a crisp, clean slap, she struck the clerk right across his sharp-featured, monkey-faced cheek, loud enough for his bones to emit a sickening crunch of dislocation.
"Damn you, how dare you hit me in the face! You've got a death wish..." The clerk truly hadn't expected Lan Qinghuan to catch him off guard with a slap, let alone one with such immense force. Just like that, the blow had knocked his nose clean out of alignment.
No matter what, he was still a martial artist at the Eighth Layer of Qi Condensation. To be slapped in the face by some puny weakling devoid of spiritual power—he had to salvage his pride no matter what.
With that, he vaulted straight out from behind the counter, grabbed Lan Qinghuan by the collar, and prepared to pay her back tenfold for the slap he'd just taken.
"Since when is it your turn to call the shots here?"
A chilling voice drifted in like a wisp of fog, and the very air seemed to freeze the instant the words arrived.
The clerk, who had just been aggressively clutching her collar and acting fierce enough to beat her to a pulp, turned ashen with terror. His grip on her collar trembled violently, and he began to mutter mechanically, "Lord Xiye, spare my life! This humble one will never dare do it again..."
Wasn't this a bit over the top? So the air pressure had dropped by a microscopic fraction—did he really have to piss his pants before even catching a glimpse of anyone? Was this really the same guy who had just been about to lay hands on her?
While Lan Qinghuan stood there in a daze, countless shadowy figures flashed into the room. The shadows automatically parted into two lines, and Lord Xiye stepped forward at a leisurely pace, clad in a dark-red-trimmed tight brocade robe and silver-gold-bordered official boots.
His fitted attire accentuated his charmingly robust physique. A cascade of soft, long silver hair was simply gathered by a red crown dangling with multicolored jade beads, while a few strands of silver hair fell gracefully past his ear, gleaming brilliantly against the dark brocade robe.
What a flawlessly proportioned man, yet a cold, crude dark iron mask abruptly concealed those perfect features.
Though she couldn't see the newcomer's face, the unique, blood-red eyes gleaming beneath the mask plunged Lan Qinghuan into a deep trance.
"Lianzhe, is that you?"
Effortlessly shaking off the clerk's trembling grip, Lan Qinghuan walked toward Xiye in a daze and reached out a small hand to touch his masked eyes, slowly tracing the contours of those phoenix eyes.
"Refine him into a bone soldier, and fetch the Soul Breath Grass for her..."
It was her—the good-for-nothing eldest miss of the Lan Clan. On his way back, he had already ordered the shadow guards to investigate her background. In fact, the moment he saw the phoenix hairpin in her hair, he had known who she was. Yet, he refused to believe that someone who fought so desperately to protect a stranger's child could be the good-for-nothing, fool, and madwoman of the rumors.
"Yes..."
As if prearranged, two men stepped out from the front row. The shadow guard on the left went to get the Soul Breath Grass for Lan Qinghuan, while the shadow guard on the right walked over to the shivering clerk. Spreading his fingers, a dark netherflame instantly consumed the man's frantic pleas for mercy, reducing him to a shriveled skeleton.