Yun was stunned.
Partly because he was handsome, but more so because she knew—this man was simply a demon.
If someone who didn’t know him saw him, they would be captivated instantly, drawn in by his striking looks. Too bad for him, she wasn’t just anyone. She had been nurtured by the sect since childhood, trained to resist such shallow temptations. She wasn’t the type to be swayed by a pretty face.
And yet… she regretted it.
Every word. Every insult. Every last bit of arrogance.
Even when she had asked him that final, thoughtless question—Who are you?—she had no idea what she was inviting upon herself.
No one could blame her.
Outside, she was known as a prodigy. But in reality, her talent was beyond even that. If fate had been kinder, she could have reached Rank 7, maybe even Rank 8, standing among the legends of the cultivation world.
So was it really wrong for her to look down on a mere Rank 1?
Was it wrong to think an unknown, lowly cultivator could never be worthy of being her master?
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But now, she was going insane.
The realization hit her like a collapsing mountain—she knew exactly who he was. And she knew what awaited her in his hands.
At first, it was just a whisper in the back of her mind. A faint, creeping unease.
Then, as she stared into his clear, knowing eyes, the whisper grew into a scream.
She had seen those eyes before.
Once, a long time ago.
A memory surfaced—one she had buried deep. A time when she was still young, barely more than a child, standing among the crowds as the world trembled.
She had watched him—the man who defied the heavens themselves.
She had watched as divine lightning crashed down, punishing him for his sins.
She had watched as he stood, unwavering, against a force that should have erased his very existence.
And she had watched as he died.
Yanwei’s lips curled into a playful smirk, his eyes unsettlingly clear.
“I told you, didn’t I?” His voice was light, almost amused. “You’re going to be my slave. And I am going to be your master.”
Yun’s breath caught. For a moment, she thought he had changed his mind—that he intended to torture her instead, make her suffer for the things she said.
But there was no hesitation in her response.
“I will gladly be your slave, MASTER!”
Her voice held no shame, no resistance. Only submission. Even in her injured state, her soul trembled as she presented a fragment of it—weak, barely a whisper, yet still carrying the dignity of a true genius.
Yanwei accepted it with a knowing smile.
He had been right to choose her.
Not just because she was different from the others.
While most cultivated isolation, choosing to stand above the crowd like lone wolves, she chose the opposite. She had the rare ability to bend public opinion, to manipulate those around her.
That wasn’t just talent—it was a deep understanding of human nature.
A person like her would be difficult to deal with.
If he had been just another genius, he would have died in her hands.
But he wasn’t.
“Good. Good.”
Yanwei stepped forward, his fingers brushing against Yun’s bloodied face. His touch was cold, yet strangely gentle, as he wiped away a trace of blood.
His voice carried no warmth. Only inevitability.
“I will not offer you kindness. I will not give you comfort. But I will give you certainty. You will never doubt your place again. You will never wonder who you are or why you exist. You are mine. And through me, you will know purpose beyond what your former self could ever grasp.”
He placed a pill between her lips.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away—leaving Yun frozen in place, her mind spiraling into madness.