Chapter 140: Revenge (Part Two)

“Beg for forgiveness? What do you mean by that?”
Wu Yueling asked in a cold tone, like a summer sky on the verge of a storm, ready to unleash thunderous wrath at any moment.

The stout merchant forced a flattering smile onto his embarrassed face, feeling overwhelmed—not by physical weakness, but by the oppressive presence before him. Could she really be an innocent scholar? No, she was a fierce beast no one dared to offend! He deeply regretted coming here to ask for forgiveness and had no intention of agreeing to the third sect leader’s decision.

“The person behind me accidentally injured a servant of the princess’s household, so...”

Before he could finish, a gust of wind swept by, and sounds of brutal beating came from behind. The merchant gulped nervously and forced another smile at a passing woman.

Yet the woman walked right past him without even a glance, utterly ignoring him.

“Princess, please spare my life! I—I was careless, I was drunk at the time...”

Another punch crushed the side of his face, knocking him to the ground. This man was the very culprit who had attacked on the street.

Because a life had been endangered, the wise third sect leader of the Manichaean cult promptly decided to send the culprit to the princess’s mansion. The local captain would then take him away, punishing him accordingly. It was a clever plan: the princess’s household belonged to the royal family and was untouchable, so enduring some physical punishment was far better than death.

After all, a mere servant was nothing significant!

Now fully sober, the man curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach. Though struck on the face, he held his stomach because the third sect leader had kicked him there, and it still throbbed painfully.

Having vented her anger, the princess’s clenched fists glowed red, numb to any pain. The composure she’d lost now surged back to her mind.

Several women rushed to the mansion gates: a young maid in red, Wan’er with tear-swollen eyes from crying, and Qin Muyu, her face etched with sorrow.

“Princess, this is the hanfu that Xiaochun has been weaving for over a year. Even now, it’s not entirely finished... But Xiaochun truly hopes you’ll like it. Every stitch was made with care as she embroidered the floral patterns. This garment is a labor of her heart,” the maid choked up, pausing several times before finally presenting the red hanfu to the princess and draping it over her shoulders.

Hearing this, Gao Yu felt uneasy. He found he dared not meet the cold gleam of the long sword. Fear gripped him—not like when he’d fought recklessly with thieves before, clutching his own fate in his hands. Now, his life was in someone else’s grasp, and the feeling was entirely different.

Drunkenness had led to this disaster. What to do? Flee? The daring thought haunted him, his eyes darting nervously, and he began to believe that only escape offered a glimmer of hope.

But running away only buys time, not a lifetime. The third sect leader had instructed him to endure some physical pain first, then have the captain seize him on charges of assault. With the chancellor backing him, he was just a man who killed a servant—no big deal.

While he hesitated, an unexpected action unfolded.

The princess discarded her sword and began putting on the vivid red garment. It was unlike a mere skirt; as he stole glances, it was truly splendid—the red tone like fresh blood stirred a faint unease in his heart. Yet he reassured himself: the princess was just a teenager, naïve and unworldly, unlikely to act beyond just hitting people.

Wu Yueling wore the hanfu, surprisingly well-fitted—after all, the maid had measured her twice. Such a heartfelt gift would never be forgotten, and from now on, her favorite color was decided: pure red!

She lifted the broad, elegant sleeve embroidered with golden plum blossoms. Her attention caught a gap—the left sleeve lacked one golden plum blossom at the cuff.

A breeze stirred, causing the golden plum blossoms to sway like real flowers in the spring afternoon sunlight.

This was a gift from Xiaochun, a farewell present from a friend departing, precious and cherished—a treasure to be carefully guarded!

As for the killer—

Wu Yueling cast a cold glance at the man sneaking peeks at her. Her gaze turned icy.

Originally, upon arriving in this world, she had followed a creed of non-killing, adhering to her past life’s principles. But after enduring so much, those beliefs naturally shattered.

Bullied, she endured; trampled upon, she endured; hunted down, she endured.

“Life is about endurance. One day, you’ll rise above,” people around her had said.

But here, in this world, she no longer needed to endure. If bullied, she would strike back; if trampled, she would trample back; if hunted, she would kill in return—wiping them out completely!

Acting on impulse, she raised her arm. The sleeve hiding her revolver slowly slid down, the golden plum blossom embroidery dazzling in the spring sunlight.

Her eyes bore no emotion—a temperament forged through long training—as she fixed her gaze on the suspicious Manichaean cult member and calmly pulled the trigger.

Amid all eyes, the princess’s strange action caused the kneeling culprit’s head to suddenly explode or be struck with overwhelming force, spraying a mixture of red and white fluids.

A thunderous sound, collapse, silence.

Silence persisted...

No one spoke, but the fact was clear: the kneeling offender was dead, his body grotesquely twisted on the ground, utterly lifeless.

The stout merchant’s face turned ashen, sweat pouring like rain. The situation had spiraled beyond his control and surprised even the third sect leader—it had all happened too suddenly.

Wu Yueling gave a faint glance at the kneeling merchant at the gate, ignoring the surrounding commotion. She waved the sleeve embroidered with golden plum blossoms and strode inside, not forgetting to instruct the maid:

“Tonight, I want to eat... beer-braised donkey meat!”

The world holds both light and darkness, like day and night, ever changing.

Humans are the same: their kindness like a gentle spring breeze, warmth and comfort; their evil like decay and stench, repelling yet inseparable, opposing yet intertwined, conflicting and struggling.

One side desperately sprouts with life, the other decays and dies—such is nature.

From birth, one may harbor a demon within. Perhaps the demon is humanity itself, and humanity the demon.

The world is like a quagmire; the deeper you tread, the harder it is to escape. When she took that step and pulled the trigger, the innate demon awoke within her. Her hands stained with blood, it was an inevitable ascent to the throne and the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Xiaochun was not dead—she lived on in the princess’s heart, vivid and alive in this red hanfu preserved for a thousand years.

Decades later, one day, Wu Yueling would say:

“When I reached the pinnacle of this world, I realized that beyond the mountain was still mountain—no sea in sight, just a vast, obscure expanse. She was no longer the same person, but a demonic existence, yet at times an angelic one, until at last she recognized her true nature.”