Trying To Tame An Evil Overlord - Chapter 114 It’s not a lover’s spa

Chen Anyue coughed deeply with her chest heaving. Her hand pulled away with blood. She didn’t know what time of day it was and when she tried to look around, everything simply felt muddied.

Where was she? And what was she even doing? For some reason, those things were difficult to answer.

Her surroundings came back to her in splashes of awareness. She was sitting at a desk. Her desk. In her own room.

Why did she think this strange?

On her desk was her ink and brush. There were two distinct pieces of parchment lying there, one was a document detailing the effects of sacred peach tree wood and another announcing the news of marriage. Her own marriage.

Neither of these things were written in her own handwriting.

But her mind felt too thick and heavy to feel alarmed. Another wave of coughs assaulted her body. Chen Anyue caught sight of the wooden idol of a strange unnamed god watching her from the edge of her desk.

“…” She squinted at it, not remembering having put it there.

A strange part of her mind told her that there were a lot of things she had trouble remembering…

Like what day it was.

Confused, Chen Anyue closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was suddenly in the garden, accompanying her father for a stroll.

Her feet moved under her and she was overtaken by a terrible need to cough. There was the taste of blood in the back of her throat.

But her body was not in her own control, and even though she was tortured by the need to cough, she was standing and smiling calmly.

What was even worse, she was saying such strange and absurd things to her father!

Through gray eyes, Chen Anyue watched in horror as Chen Gaoyong smiled and nodded in agreement,

“Good, how great! Ah, my daughter is truly wise. Then I shall go and quickly make the preparations that I can. You will become such a good and lovely wife, my dear daughter.”

And though she was so stricken by horror, there was nothing she could do.

Worse, when she woke up next, her thoughts were so disjointed, she could not remember what it was she fretted so deeply over.

Surely, it had to be the peach tree supply…? She still needed to convince the Wang and Suo family…

…

In the midst of confusion, Liu Sumeng, Yuan Xuelan and Hui Moxiang, who had finally changed back to a human form, slipped into one of the side entrances of the watchtower.

Because people were running about outside, the interior felt almost suspiciously silent. Based on Hui Moxiang’s intel, this was to be expected. There were not many people stationed at this garrison. And Liu Sumeng, who had faced the Seven Moons before, knew that a place like this was the exception and not the rule. Still, it was convenient for their purposes.

The interior of the watchtower was stale in scent. It was dark, with small flicks of lantern light that scattered about, illuminating the winding stairs that hugged the edges of the tall, ominous interior.

There were a few patrols along the towering walls, which made dealing with these Seven Moons disciples not too difficult. But there still remained the issue of locating the Fallen God.

Where was it?

It was not on the vacant space at the bottom of the tower and there were no signs of it in the hollow interior.

Liu Sumeng was careful with his movements, his watchful eye taking in the surroundings as he moved stealthily.

Yuan Xuelan caught sight of a set of approaching footsteps, a man curiously walked in their direction, seeming to catch movement beyond the pillars that curved around the wall.

“Hey, who’s there? Why are you loitering about-”

Yuan Xuelan moved quickly, his hand wrapping around his foe’s face in a vice grip, almost strong enough to crush bone. A muffled sound escaped from the man’s lips, his eyes blown wide in shock.

“Xuelan!” Liu Sumeng’s voice came out sharp as he rushed to Yuan Xuelan’s side. A rope was already in his hand, and made quick work of rendering the man of his mobility.

“You’re very good with that,” Hui Moxiang commented offhandedly, eyeing at the rope work that tightly wound around the man’s torso and restricted any movement in his limbs and even snaked around his fingers tightly.

The Ivory Sword Saint shrugged off his comment, trying not to remember the reason as to why he was so skillful in using such an instrument. After all, he had a lot of time and practice in his previous life.

They took the man and relocated to a shadowed corner, ducking behind the cover of splintered pillars that held up the old watchtower.

“You will regret this,” the Seven Moons disciple hissed at them, “Don’t think you’ll be able to get away with something like this.”

Yuan Xuelan bristled, “Shut up if you know what’s good for you.” His voice was dangerous and low. Just his presence was overbearing and irritable.

The Ivory Sword Saint ignored both of them and stepped in between, “Where is the Fallen God?” He asked bluntly.

For a moment, the man’s face fell, surprised that these unknown intruders had even a glimmer of their great plan. But he was not going to lose his composure, dignity nor pride so easily.

He spat, the offensive splatter of saliva hitting the back of Liu Sumeng’s sleeve that he raised to protect his face. The action made him jolt backward.

It was enough for Yuan Xuelan to cut in between. Possessed by some sort of demon, a fist slammed into the man’s face. There was a sharp wet crunch.

Hui Moxiang whistled, both impressed and a bit fearful, purposely taking a step back. He knew for a long time that Young Master Yuan had a fuse shorter than a mouse’s tail but this was a little much, wasn’t it?

The Ivory Sword Saint was in agreement, his hand coming down on Xuelan’s shoulder and yanking him back, “Xuelan! What are you doing?” His voice was slightly raised.

Xuelan’s fist that came away was wet, red coming down his knuckle. The man’s face was dark with red, his nose crooked and clearly broken as blood dribbled down like an open fountain.

Yuan Xuelan’s eyes were glazed over and pointed. The glare that came away from the man lingered in his eyes, and promised violence even as he looked at Liu Sumeng.

The air felt unreasonably chilled.

But just as quickly as he was possessed, Xuelan’s expression eased into his usual one. The rage changed into wide-eyed innocence. A puppy-like pleading.

“I…” He said, flexing his creaking knuckles, “He spat at you. He deserved it.” He deserved to die.

Liu Sumeng could not ignore how Xuelan’s tongue hissed with aggravated rage. The low simmer of anger that would never leave, the horrible roar of Yang energy in his body…

“Xuelan,” Liu Sumeng’s eyes furrowed. He didn’t want to see Yuan Xuelan like this… “That is not a reason. You know this. Please calm down.” He reached for those bloodied hands, wrapping trembling fingers in his own.

“…” Yuan Xuelan swallowed and nodded. “I’m sorry,” he bit out and extracted his hand from Liu Sumeng’s touch.

Yuan Xuelan could not bring himself to see the prying and pitying gaze in Liu Sumeng’s eyes. Surely, the Ivory Sword Saint thought him ugly. But what could he do about it?

His mind was heavy with dirty and evil thoughts.

But there was no way for Liu Sumeng to understand these feelings. The Ivory Sword Saint could only furrow his brows in frustration, confused about the origins of the chaos that stirred in Xuelan’s heart. Often, in the past he could at least trace the trigger that set off Yuan Xuelan’s rage, but this time…

It was truly infuriating.

And Liu Sumeng who was bad at speaking also chided himself. But he really needed to say something, and refused to allow this tension to fester, “You need to-”

But he interrupted.

A sharp hairpin flew between them. Yuan Xuelan almost jumped, while the Ivory Sword Saint muffled his surprise. With a sharp wet sound, it wedged itself between the Seven Moons cultivator’s eyes. His head hit the back of the wall and then hung down lifelessly.

“Sorry,” Hui Moxiang casually shrugged, “But while you two were having your lover’s spat, that guy seemed like he was doing something suspicious.”

Liu Sumeng’s expression darkened while Yuan Xuelan flinched.

“It’s not a lover’s spat.”

“It’s not a lover’s spat!”

They shouted together.

Hui Moxiang swiped his eyes between them with a look of disbelief.

The next person they captured was a little more cooperative.

They had made their way up the levels that circled around the watchtower walls. But the second level was just as stale and mournful as the first, making it easy for them to sneak up and capture their unsuspecting target.

But even with the low light that pulsed in the watchtower, it was evident in her soft features that she was rather young and naive. Barely any more help than the last haughty fool, she was quivering like a leaf at the mention of the Fallen God, saying how the world would soon come to an end.

“I don’t care,” Yuan Xuelan said with impatience, “Can’t you tell us something useful already?” His fingers itched to draw Silei and cleave through her useless trembling body. If Liu Sumeng just looked away…if he just looked away…

The girl flinched and scooted backward against the wall. Her wide eyes flitted around.

“Looks like we have company.” Hui Moxiang hummed.

Indeed, there were auras that approached them. Four in total that donned the colors of Seven Moons. The low lantern lights licked their robes. They encircled the three, led by a woman. Though she was short in stature her presence was much heavier and her chin tilted upward in a sneer.

“Looks like there are some rats that came to nibble at the scraps in Hengsheng. Did you really think I’d let you off my cute disciples one by one without consequence?”

A silver blade glistened in her hand, as in those of her followers.

Yuan Xuelan’s blood became heated. He wet his lips, privately pleased with the developments with fingers fast curling around Silei’s hilt.

“Uh-oh,” Hui Moxiang kicked at his feet as he leaned his head back into his hands, “Looks like we invited some trouble.” Despite his words, he seemed largely unconcerned with a whimsical attitude.

Between them stood the calm Ivory Sword Saint who met this woman’s challenging gaze. He did not waste time and demanded bluntly, “Where is the Fallen God?”

She clicked her tongue, brows twitching, “You little bastard…”