AUOF - 33

Sang Li had no idea how long this ordeal had lasted. By the time it was over, she was in a state of mental daze.

At first, Ji Hengyu had been relatively restrained, only seeking her wrist. But eventually, he lost all control.

In the end, it was as if an entire city had fallen—everything that should and shouldn’t have been done, had been done, except for the final threshold.

Perhaps it lasted a day, two days, or even longer?

Regardless, she was utterly exhausted—her wrists limp, her bones aching, and her once-intact clothing now reduced to shreds scattered on the floor.

She sat silently, staring at the giant snake curled up on the ground.

His massive body occupied the entire dungeon. Sang Li lay atop his serpent belly, the softest and most comfortable part of his body, so lying there wasn’t entirely unbearable.

After his indulgence, the giant snake fell into a peaceful slumber. His eyelids drooped, concealing those radiant golden pupils, and even his silver horns lay docilely against his head.

It was strange.

But it was precisely these horns that made her feel less afraid.

Sang Li still remembered how, when she had been on the verge of tears, he would make flowers bloom all over his horns to cheer her up. At the time, she had been too distressed to pay attention to such antics.

Sang Li stared at the horns for a long while, unable to resist. She stealthily reached out and touched one.

But before she could fully process the sensation, the giant snake lazily opened his eyes, a glimmer of golden light spilling out.

Feeling guilty, she quickly withdrew her hand and sat obediently, pretending nothing had happened.

Then came the sound of rustling. To her surprise, the giant snake turned his neck and actively brought his horn closer to her palm.

Sang Li’s face flushed—it was just… oddly embarrassing.

She could no longer associate this sticky, affectionate, horned serpent with Ji Hengyu.

Seeing that Sang Li hesitated to act, the giant snake let out an impatient growl, resting his head on her lap. With his horns, he lifted her hand and forcibly placed it beneath his horn.

The horns resembled those of a dragon, though they weren’t particularly large.

They were silvery all over, with faint blue divine light flowing across their surface upon closer inspection.

Their texture was rougher than Sang Li had imagined, feeling somewhat like deer antlers but much more pleasant to touch.

She stroked them a couple of times, becoming slightly entranced.

Realizing what she was doing, she quickly withdrew her hand and quietly slipped out of his embrace.

Ji Hengyu had endured three days of karmic affliction torment, spent two days entangled with Sang Li, and lost half of his Fuxi blood during the Retribution Day. He was completely drained of energy, so even if she left now, he wouldn’t have the strength to chase after her.

Sang Li used the Purification Spell to cleanse herself of filth and changed into a fresh set of clothes before sneaking toward the door.

However, the dungeon was completely sealed by powerful spells, making escape from the inside impossible.

Just as Sang Li was preparing to search for another exit, the sealing array suddenly dissolved, and someone entered from outside.

At the sight of the newcomer, Sang Li was momentarily startled.

The person wore full armor, stood two meters tall, and had a greenish, fearsome face with sharp fangs, exuding an aura akin to a malevolent ghost.

He seemed equally surprised to see Sang Li there. The two stared at each other, both stunned for a moment.

After scrutinizing him for a while, Sang Li hesitantly asked, “Qi… Immortal Qi?”

Qi snapped out of his stupor and hurriedly covered his face with a mask, looking apologetic. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Sang Li hadn’t expected his true appearance to be like this. She wasn’t scared, just a little surprised. Now that he looked so remorseful, she felt awkward instead.

“I-it’s fine,” Sang Li stammered, fearing that lingering any longer might bring trouble upon herself. “Since Immortal Qi is here, I’ll take my leave.”

Terrified that he might interrogate her, Sang Li bypassed Qi and fled without looking back.

This left Qi utterly baffled. After a long pause, he finally realized—why was there a little maid in the dungeon?

Perplexed, Qi hesitated to descend the stairs.

But when he saw the scene before him, his breath caught in his throat.

The place was in utter disarray.

The sealing arrays were still intact, but aside from the bed of black ice, everything else in the dungeon had been destroyed. There were also certain traces—blush-inducing, unmentionable traces—that hinted at what had transpired.

This caused Qi, who had lived a life of asceticism for thousands of years, to blush deeply.

Ji Hengyu’s karmic affliction episode was a grave matter.

After dispersing the disciples of Gui Xu Palace, Qi and his fellow disciples had prepared countermeasures. For two days, the arrays showed no signs of being breached, but Qi grew uneasy and decided to check on the situation himself, concealing his actions from his younger sister.

And now…

This scene far exceeded his expectations.

It seemed that Lord Ji Hengyu had safely weathered the karmic affliction period—and judging by his current state, he had emerged relatively unscathed?

Could it be because of that maid?

Qi grew even more perplexed.

He clearly remembered asking his lord about his relationship with her not long ago. Ji Hengyu had confidently declared that they were unfamiliar, yet within days, they had become intimate enough to share a bed?

“M-my Lord?”

After some thought, Qi decided to wake Ji Hengyu.

Karmic afflictions damaged the soul, and given the excessive depletion from suppressing the demon god earlier, failing to take medicine promptly could lead to lasting ailments.

“Lord, are you conscious?”

Qi called out to Ji Hengyu repeatedly.

Ji Hengyu lingered between dream and wakefulness.

This voice was starkly different from the sultry tones in his memories. He was still immersed in the ecstasy of earlier moments, even dreaming of her supple form beneath his serpent tail.

Ji Hengyu adored it.

He loved using his tail to entangle her, tightening and loosening around her, and especially pressing against her, listening to her cries that were neither quite sobs nor moans.

He was cold; she was warm. And so, he absorbed.

As Qi’s voice persisted, Ji Hengyu’s rationality gradually returned.

He half-opened his eyelids, revealing golden pupils that shimmered like molten jade.

His serpent form partially receded, and soon, Ji Hengyu regained his human shape.

Qi was overjoyed. “My Lord, have you regained consciousness?”

Regained consciousness?

Ji Hengyu was still plagued by a throbbing headache.

Leaning against the icy bed, he instinctively raised a hand to rub his temples—but suddenly realized he was completely naked, as if struck by a realization. His movements froze abruptly.

“My Lord?” Qi’s expression grew complex. “Was it that girl… who helped you overcome the karmic affliction?”

Ji Hengyu remained silent.

How could anyone else possibly help alleviate his karmic affliction?

While karmic afflictions were beyond external aid, the love guinea worm was another matter.

Ambiguous thoughts flooded his mind.

Fragmented memories relentlessly reminded him of the absurd two days he had endured and the outrageous acts he had committed.

Ji Hengyu’s heart twisted painfully, struggling to reconcile those actions with his own identity.

He even began to doubt—was that truly him?

“My Lord…”

“Leave me be for a moment.” Ji Hengyu raised a finger to interrupt, his voice firm and dismissive.

Qi had always been obedient to Ji Hengyu’s commands. Casting one last worried glance at his master, he said, “I will fetch the medicine for you shortly, my lord. Please remember to take it,” before departing and closing the dungeon door behind him.

The dungeon was dim and devoid of light.

With a flick of his hand, Ji Hengyu lit all the candles on the walls. The flames illuminated the space, exposing every trace within the room in stark detail.

Ji Hengyu carelessly pulled a nearby robe over his lower body. As he did so, a white peach-patterned bellyband slipped from the folds and landed by his fingertips.

His expression darkened instantly.

The bellyband was crumpled, bearing faint traces of stains.

He glanced around briefly.

Shreds of clothing were scattered across the floor, candlesticks lay shattered, and even the chains that had once bound his limbs now entangled strands of a woman’s hair.

Ji Hengyu lifted the chain and sniffed it. The lingering fragrance triggered a hazy, unsettling memory.

She had likely tried to restrain him with these chains… but…

Ji Hengyu’s gaze shifted toward the bed of black ice.

This had been his “prison bed.” Yet, in his unconscious state, he had locked another person onto this very bed and indulged in unforgivable acts.

His head throbbed.

Ji Hengyu didn’t want to face it.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, his mind a chaotic swirl.

In his loss of rationality, Ji Hengyu had been unable to control himself—whether it was spitting fire or water, or nudging closer for her to touch his horns, all driven by primal instincts.

In other words, the true form of Ji Hengyu willingly sought to please her.

With a snap of his fingers, Ji Hengyu restored the dungeon to its original state. His face grim, he stepped out of the dungeon.

Perhaps because all the disciples of Gui Xu had relocated to Huan Lang Peak, the already silent Shuo Guang Hall felt even more desolate.

He cleansed his body in the Jinghua Pool and changed into fresh clothes. Sitting alone in the courtyard, he stared blankly into the distance, his features inscrutable as his thoughts wandered.

Once free from the karmic affliction, Ji Wu wasted no time emerging to claim credit: [Awake? If it weren’t for me fetching that little fox spirit, would you have recovered so quickly?]

Ji Hengyu: [Silence.]

Ji Wu: [She took care of both your needs, how thoughtful of her, that little fox.]

At this mention, unwelcome thoughts resurfaced in Ji Hengyu’s mind, causing his breath to hitch. Irritated and humiliated, he snapped again: [Silence.]

Ji Wu: [Do you remember? She even helped you...]

Ji Hengyu shut his eyes and suppressed Ji Wu deep within his consciousness. But as his thoughts quieted, he realized... his tail had once again emerged uncontrollably.

Frustration mounted.

Ji Hengyu furrowed his brows, attempting to retract the serpent tail. Perhaps due to his unsettled state of mind, not only did the tail fail to retreat, but it also seemed to grow longer. The more it extended, the more agitated Ji Hengyu became, until finally, the tail twisted into a tight knot like a rope.

[Hmph.]

The usually silent Ji Xun sneered at him.

“...” Ji Hengyu glared. “Do you want to end up in there too?”

Ji Xun: “I didn’t say a word.”

Without hesitation, Ji Hengyu banished Ji Xun to the abyss of his consciousness.

Good. Now he was left with just the knotted tail.

Staring at the tightly tangled silver serpent tail, Ji Hengyu took several deep breaths. Never in his life had he imagined such an undignified day, let alone his tail forming knots.

If his father god were still alive, he would surely laugh at him.

Slowly, Ji Hengyu maneuvered the tail in front of him, reaching out to untangle it.

But it refused to cooperate, wriggling as if it didn’t belong to his body, constantly slipping away beneath his hands.

Frustrated, Ji Hengyu was about to cast a paralysis spell on the tail when a trembling voice sounded behind him—

“S-s-senior Lord?”

Ji Hengyu froze mid-untangling, raising his eyes to meet a pair of astonished fox-like ones.

Ji Hengyu: “...”

Sang Li: “...”

An awkward silence filled the courtyard, so quiet that the drop of a needle could be heard.

Sang Li stood on the corridor holding the medicine, unsure whether to enter or retreat, whether to look at him or avoid his gaze altogether.

To think, she had been the unlucky one.

Initially, she had planned to wash up and head to Huan Lang Peak to find her companions, pretending nothing had happened. After all, Ji Hengyu had been unconscious; even if he regained awareness, he might not remember the events of those two days.

Her misfortune began when she exited Huan Sha Garden and ran straight into Qi.

With an apologetic expression, Qi begged her assistance, explaining that all the maidservants of Gui Xu had left. Ji Hengyu was still unconscious, and considering she was the only one who could approach him without danger, Qi entrusted her with delivering the medicine.

And so, Sang Li found herself inexplicably tasked with delivering the medicine, only to stumble upon... She cautiously glanced at the serpent tail tied in elaborate knots. A knot? So snake tails really could get tangled?

No, that wasn’t the point.

She had seen something she shouldn’t have. Would Ji Hengyu silence her?

How embarrassing.

She wanted to flee.

Sang Li’s toes curled against the ground. She looked down at the earth, then up at the sky. When her gaze fell on the four imposing dragon pillars, inspiration struck, and she seized the opportunity to change the subject: “Senior Lord, these pillars are truly magnificent. What are they made of?”

Ji Hengyu’s expression remained cold, his tone measured: “They’re made from my father.”

Sang Li: “...”

Ji Hengyu continued solemnly, pointing them out one by one: “And my uncle, my aunt, and my grandmother.”

Sang Li: “...”