He glared at Song Wanníng, face tense and full of defiance, as if ready to die before yielding.
Song Wanníng froze for a heartbeat at his words, then let out a light laugh. Her playful gaze slid over Feng Youming.
Where exactly did he get this confidence from?
"You actually guessed right. I do have… improper thoughts about you. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I wanted to keep you trapped by my side forever…"
"Break your limbs. Strip out your meridians. Turn you into a puppet who stays obediently at my side."
She didn't voice that last part, but her eyes grew darker, the meaning clear enough.
A chill crept down Feng Youming's spine. Still, hearing her speak, he gave a derisive snort.
So he was right. Her earlier moves and glances had indeed been aimed at him.
Women like this? He had seen plenty.
A single word from him, and there were always women eager to climb into his bed. She was no different.
Although…
His gaze wandered over Song Wanníng.
The two of them were standing close, so close that her face—like a blooming rose—was displayed fully before him.
For an instant, he thought he caught the faintest, intoxicating scent. His throat bobbed. The thought came unbidden: perhaps it would not be so bad to roll together after all…
From the side, Mu Yuan caught the flicker in his expression. A slow, burning anger welled up in her chest.
"This man really had the nerve to covet my daughter?"
If she didn't still have use for him, she would have cut him down on the spot.
Song Wanníng, however, was not angry. Her smile took on an extra shade of allure as she tugged the Immortal Binding Rope, dragging Feng Youming behind her.
Once she was sure he could not stir up trouble, she led him out of the formation.
Only then did Yu Cheng emerge, asking whether the formation should be removed.
Song Wanníng thought for a moment, then shook her head.
"Leave it here. If outsiders come, it can serve as another layer of defense."
As for the consumption of supreme-grade spirit stones, they had plenty to spare now.
Yu Cheng nodded, then stole a glance at Feng Youming, only to meet a glare sharp enough to cut.
That look promised to tear him into pieces.
Yu Cheng rolled his eyes. About to die and still acting arrogant? Did he really think Senior Song was interested in him?
Fool.
"Thank you for your help this time. The Song family will host you properly another day," Mu Yuan said with a smile.
"This is nothing worth thanks for. If Senior Song needs me, just call at any time," Yu Cheng replied quickly, giving a respectful bow before taking out a flying artifact and leaving.
"A dependable young man," Mu Yuan remarked as she watched his figure recede.
Song Wanníng nodded. Yu Cheng was pure-hearted, devoted to the Dao, a rare quality indeed.
Feng Youming, however, snorted. "Just a useless waste. Still in the Nascent Soul stage at his age—what good is he?"
Not like him. He had reached Divine Transformation long ago…
Song Wanníng said nothing.
The more she interacted with Feng Youming, the more the mysterious aura she remembered from her past life crumbled.
Sometimes, she truly thought there was something contradictory about him.
A powerful cultivator with an enigmatic presence, yet his words and actions always carried a kind of unclouded stupidity.
Suppressing her doubts, she gave the rope a hard yank. Feng Youming stumbled forward, nearly falling flat.
Without sparing him another glance, Song Wanníng rose into the air toward the spirit vein.
Mu Yuan followed, looking down at the helpless Feng Youming dangling below, his face dark with humiliation.
That look of frustration was, frankly, satisfying.
…
Back at the spirit vein, Mu Yuan went off to inspect it, leaving Feng Youming to Song Wanníng.
She dragged him into a stone chamber. As soon as they stepped inside, golden light nearly blinded the eyes.
Piles of supreme-grade spirit stones were stacked high, the dense spiritual energy so rich it made the very pores tremble.
Feng Youming's eyes went wide. Even for him, seeing this many supreme-grade stones at once stirred greed.
Not to mention the entire spirit vein outside…
If he could get his hands on it, he would be rich overnight.
Where had the Song family gotten such fortune?
A thought struck him—perhaps he could use a honey trap to claim the spirit vein.
The idea had barely formed when he was thrown aside, crashing into the wall.
"Ugh!"
With his spiritual power sealed, he couldn't resist. He hit hard, rebounded, and landed on the floor.
Seething, he pushed himself up, ready to shout, but then remembered his plan and forced down the anger.
"What exactly do you want?"
He was convinced she had taken a fancy to him.
After all, her fiancé had just abandoned her, and now she saw his excellence and fell for him—it made perfect sense to him. This belief came entirely from the way she had lifted his chin earlier, filling him with misplaced confidence.
Song Wanníng found that lofty gaze amusing. She had seen it before—on Gu Qingyuan's face when he broke their engagement…
That same look, as if she was already in the palm of his hand.
She stepped closer, a gentle smile curving her lips, eyes as soft as flowing water locking onto him.
"I told you already. I want to keep you by my side."
Her hand rose to rest on his shoulder, sliding slowly upward.
Feng Youming, taller by a head, lowered his gaze to meet her enamored expression. His heart gave a small stir.
She was beautiful. Her figure, flawless.
Accepting her wouldn't be a loss.
Especially with the entire spirit vein as her dowry.
The more he thought, the more pleased he became. His head dipped, drawn toward that stunning face. Her soft, enticing lips were within reach…
But in the next instant, Song Wanníng's hand slipped up along his neck and pressed against the crown of his head.
She forced him down. His face hit the ground, mouth full of grit.
Before he could react, her foot came down, pinning the back of his head.
Feng Youming's eyes went wide. "You dare play me, you wretch?!"
Humiliation burned hotter than pain.
Above him came a cold laugh. "Play you? No. I told you—I'm keeping you by my side."
Her tone was gentle, yet carried an icy, bone-deep chill.
Before he could make sense of it, a longsword flashed into existence.
Cold steel glinted, and his arm was severed at the root.
"Aaah—!"
Blood sprayed across his face.
"You—"
Another flash, and his other arm fell.
Feng Youming froze for a breath, then fury overtook shock.
"Wretch! You vile woman! What do you think you're doing?"
She had cut off both his arms?
Rage blazed in his eyes, burning away fear.
Song Wanníng tilted her head slightly at him.
"I already told you," she said softly.
"I'm keeping you by my side."