Overdraw the future and become a peerless martial god

Chapter 88 The Upright King (Seeking monthly votes and favorites)
"The three have arrived. Please invite Miss Xie and Miss Feng into the hall."

A eunuch bowed his head and called out the names in a flat, emotionless voice before turning and leaving.

The golden nanmu door slammed shut behind him, shutting Chu Ning out.

Wisps of black mist seeped from the gaps in the heavy doors, and the faint sounds of dragging chains and the echoing of locks could be heard, like groans coming from the depths of the underground palace.

In the main hall, all the officials had left, and the lights were dim and quiet.

Prince Duan, dressed in a golden-purple python robe, sat quietly on his high seat, motionless like a stone statue. His eyes were lowered, as if he were deep in thought, until Xie Mingli and Feng Jin stepped in, at which point he slowly raised his eyes.

That glance was like a knife or a needle, its chill piercing straight to the spine.

He stood up, walked around the table, and walked step by step toward Xie Mingli and Feng Jin, each step carrying an unquestionable authority.

"The daughter of the Feng family."

Prince Duan spoke, his voice low and cold, the sound like an ice blade slicing through skin echoing in the empty hall, "The Li Huo Palace and the Wang family secretly traded Flame Pattern Darts... Do you know what a serious crime this is in the eyes of the court?"

Feng Jin stood ramrod straight, her expression calm, her gaze as deep and cold as a still pool:

"If you wish to hold someone accountable, you may seek the judgment of the Palace Master of Li Huo Palace. The Flame Pattern Darts are for his decision. I have come here solely for Jing Hong."

"Xie Jinghong?"

Upon hearing this, Prince Duan sneered, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes, "As expected, it's all for him."

"Yes."

Feng Jin answered decisively, her voice unwavering, "He was seriously injured and hadn't received treatment, how could I not come?"

Prince Duan's eyes grew increasingly dark, his aura suddenly turned cold, and his footsteps could be clearly heard in the silent hall.

He approached slowly, and in the flickering candlelight, his gold and purple python robe gleamed with a cold light, like a ferocious beast closing its hunting net.

He stood before Feng Jin, his eyes filled with scrutiny and a hint of undisguised disgust.

His gaze slowly swept over her face, shoulders and neck, finally settling on the slightly heaving hem of her dress.

At that moment, he suddenly raised his hand and slowly unbuttoned the top button of her dress with his fingertips.

"If you really want to save him."

His voice was deep, as if slowly rolling out from the bottom of his throat, carrying a suffocating pressure, "Then you should understand that saving a life is never a favor that can be taken for free."

Each word was like a cold iron nail, hammering into people's hearts. The voice was not loud, but it was so heavy that it made the air seem to sink half an inch.

Prince Duan paused slightly, a barely perceptible pause flashing across his brow.

Feng Jin finally spoke, her voice as cold and sharp as frost and snow:
"You think this little bit of coercion will make me back down?"

"A life for one night."

He leaned down and whispered, his breath brushing against her neck, his voice filled with barely suppressed greed, "Xie Jinghong... can then leave the palace and return safely to the Xie family. How about it?"

He spoke very slowly, his voice trailing off with a hint of almost ecstatic panting, as if simply uttering those words gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction.

A faint, unfathomable glint flickered in his eyes, a unique kind of pleasure that a controller would feel when watching prey about to submit.

Upon hearing this, the air seemed to freeze instantly, and the hall fell silent except for the flickering candlelight, which seemed to shrink back as if humiliated.

Xie Mingli's expression changed drastically, a flash of anger crossing her eyes. She almost stepped forward, but Feng Jin's voice stopped her.

"You want me for one night..."

Feng Jin's tone was extremely soft, yet it was like a frosty blade slicing through ice: "In exchange for his life?"

She didn't move or struggle, as if she couldn't feel the hand's presence, standing there with an almost indifferent attitude.

His tone was detached and cold, devoid of sorrow or resentment, yet every word he uttered exuded a chilling aura.

Prince Duan did not answer, but only revealed that condescending gaze that was used to looking down on people's hearts.

The undisguised greed, desire, and scrutiny in his eyes made him look less like a king and more like a beast in disguise, waiting for her to submit.

Feng Jin slowly raised her eyelids; her eyes were as still as water, yet possessed a sharp, silent power.

Do you think I care about this physical appearance?

She chuckled softly, a barely perceptible smile playing on her lips, her voice like snowflakes falling on a knife's edge on a cold night:

"If Xie Jinghong can return home alive, I'd rather die."

Prince Duan paused slightly, his smile slowly faded, but a twisted satisfaction appeared in his eyes.

His hand, through the soft fabric, seemed to be probing the boundaries of some forbidden place.

His breathing grew heavier, and a twisted satisfaction surfaced in his expression—a cold satisfaction fueled by a desire for control, like someone accustomed to manipulating fate finally reaching out to touch the trophy he considered his "captive." Beneath the layers of clothing, his fingers paused slightly, as if trying to confirm, within that inch of warmth, whether her resistance was truly powerless.

At this moment, he was like a plunderer who had finally reached the deepest part of his spoils, his eyes filled with intoxication, yet carrying a controlling desire that almost made him a god.

He seemed to have forgotten time and place, immersing himself only in the arrogant sense of power that the softness gave him.

But Feng Jin remained unmoved.

She stood there as always, coldly observing his downfall, like a pine tree on an icy plain, unyielding even under a thousand blades.

Her face showed no shame, anger, or fear, only an icy silence, as if she couldn't feel the hand's presence at all, as if that body no longer belonged to her, but was some kind of soul using that shell to confront him.

At that moment, what was truly torn apart was not her clothes, but Prince Duan's illusion.

He thought he had everything under control, but little did he know that he was merely exposing his deepest, most despicable desires.

Just as the atmosphere seemed to solidify, Xie Mingli finally spoke, her voice clear and cold like a mountain spring shattering stones, each word sharp as a blade cutting through snow, striking straight to the heart:
“If Your Highness truly wishes to investigate the matter of the Flame Pattern Dart, you should revive my brother and verify the facts, rather than using a severely injured person as a bargaining chip to force a woman into submission.”

Her features were cold and stern, her eyes sharp as knives, and her words were filled with suppressed anger and unyielding sharpness, like a long sword that had been hidden but was about to be unsheathed.

“Mingli…”

Prince Duan called her softly, his voice like a gentle breeze in a damp forest, lingering in her mind, like a snake's tongue lightly licking her ear.

His hand finally withdrew slowly from Feng Jinyi's clothes, but reached out to Xie Mingli, lifting her chin with his fingertips, a nauseatingly tender light appearing in his eyes.

"You...are becoming more and more like your mother."

His words were soft, like those of a lover from a memory, but in the next instant, malice was wrapped in a smile.

He slowly stroked the curve of her jawline down to her earlobe with his fingertips, his movements almost tender, as if he were caressing a piece of porcelain that he had treasured for many years.

"However, you are more vibrant than her."

He murmured softly, his breath warm against her cheek, "She's too quiet. You... you're hot. You'll scream, you'll struggle."

Xie Mingli's expression suddenly turned cold, and she abruptly turned her head to avoid him, but he pressed her shoulder firmly with his other hand.

The force in his palm was as heavy as an iron clamp, showing no mercy, as if a falcon had clamped its prey shut.

"His-"

Her clothes ripped at her shoulder with a snap, the sound of tearing fabric cutting through the air like a sharp blade scraping her heart. A patch of icy blue embroidery was exposed in the candlelight, its patterns of snow and ice, the threads as fine as silk, carrying the lingering warmth of the deceased.

Prince Duan's gaze immediately darkened, his eyes swirling with unspoken tension.

He slowly lowered his head, his fingertips tracing the ice pattern inch by inch, as if caressing the lament of a departed soul. He chuckled softly, his voice filled with sinister malice and mockery:

"This fabric... was it your mother who pulled it out of her heart before she breathed her last?"

Xie Mingli's fingertips trembled slightly, and a chill suddenly gathered in her sleeve. The icy blade quietly slid down, its cold light reflected in her frost-like eyes.

The blade reflected the face of Prince Duan, a face contorted with desire.

She parted her red lips slightly, her voice almost indifferent, yet each word sharp as frost:

"If Your Highness is so inclined, Mingli will prepare a shroud for you—it's the best at preventing moths."

"Ha ha……"

Prince Duan chuckled softly, his laughter sticky and cloying, like venom slowly dripping.

He leaned close to her ear, his breath warm and nauseating, "Don't be so harsh, Mingli. I've bestowed upon you a county and a lifetime of honor, why must you remain confined to that dilapidated Marquis's mansion?"

After saying that, he took out a crystal-clear earring from his pocket. It was a deep blue with a cold tinge, like ice sealed by frost.

He pressed the ice crystal into her palm, his movements gentle yet deliberately ruthless.

"Come,"

His voice was low and husky, as if enticing, "Let your mother see how sensible her daughter is..."

A chill instantly seeped into her palm; the sharp edge of the earring pierced her skin, and drops of blood seeped out, blooming into scarlet plum blossoms in her fair palm.

As Prince Duan looked at the drops of blood, a frenzied excitement suddenly appeared in his eyes.

He chuckled softly, his eyes filled with a venomous glint.

"Back then, she would rather have her throat broken than beg for mercy, which is truly unforgettable."

"Tell me, if I were to carve this 'backbone' into your collarbone, wouldn't that... fulfill the deep bond between you and your mother?"

(End of this chapter)