Rain lashed against the roofs of the Outer Sect disciples' quarters. It was a miserable, cold night, reflecting the mood of the man sitting in the shadows of a dilapidated hut.
Ye Chen.
He was a mess. His arm, fractured by Feng Wuya's gravity pressure, was bound in rough splints. His face was pale, his eyes sunken and burning with a feverish intensity. He sat in a lotus position, trying to circulate his Qi, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.
He saw Su Qingyue on the balcony. He saw her face flushed, her mouth open in a scream.
"Ye Chen!"
She had called his name. She was suffering. She was waiting for him.
"Focus, boy," a spectral voice echoed from the rusted ring on his finger. Old Yan, the remnant soul. "Your meridians are chaotic. If you rush into the Feng Estate now, you will die."
"She is in danger, Teacher!" Ye Chen snapped, coughing up a wad of blood. "Did you see her eyes at the tournament? She looked broken. Feng Wuya... that beast... he must be torturing her to get to me."
"He is a Golden Core cultivator," Old Yan warned. "He is playing a game we do not understand. That pressure he released... it contained a trace of Ancient Fox Divinity. He has opportunities we don't know about."
"I don't care!" Ye Chen slammed his good fist into the wooden floor. "I need to know where she is. I need to get her out tonight."
He stood up, grabbing his black iron sword.
"I'm going to the Black Market. The 'Rat' promised me information."
The Shadow Alley was a festering wound in the city's underbelly, a place where stolen goods, forbidden pills, and secrets were sold.
Ye Chen pulled his hood low, limping through the mud. The pain in his legs was excruciating, but rage was a potent anesthetic.
He stopped at a stall selling dried lizard tails. The shopkeeper was a small, hunchbacked man with shifting eyes and whiskers that twitched nervously. This was The Rat.
"You look like a corpse, kid," The Rat sneered, chewing on a beetle nut.
"The information," Ye Chen rasped, slapping a pouch of Spirit Stones onto the counter. "Where is Su Qingyue?"
The Rat weighed the pouch. He grinned, revealing rot-blackened teeth.
"The Feng Clan is tight-lipped. But... money talks. I have a source in the dungeon cleaning crew."
"Talk," Ye Chen demanded, gripping his sword hilt.
"She's in the Underground Water Prison," The Rat leaned in, his breath smelling of decay. "Cell 4. The torture sector."
Ye Chen's heart stopped. "Torture?"
"Oh, yes. Bad stuff. The Young Master is... creative." The Rat reached under the counter. "My source managed to steal a Memory Crystal from the guard room. Proof of life. Do you want to see it? It'll cost extra."
Ye Chen felt cold. "Show me."
He threw his last treasure—a Spirit Jade pendant left by his parents—onto the counter.
The Rat snatched the pendant and placed a small, jagged crystal on the table. He channeled a sliver of Qi into it.
A projection flickered into existence in the dark alley.
The image was grainy, but the subject was undeniable.
It was Su Qingyue.
She was strapped to a table—the slate slab from Chapter 9. She was naked, wet, and screaming. The audio was tinny, but the scream was clear.
HISSSSSS.
The image zoomed in. A branding iron pressed into her crotch.
"NO! NO! MOTHER! HELP ME!"
The camera lingered on the result. The angry, red burn on her pubic mound.
FENG SLAVE.
The projection ended.
Ye Chen stood frozen. The rain soaked his cloak, but he couldn't feel it. He felt like his soul had been ripped out and stomped on.
"Feng... Slave..." he whispered, the words choking him. "He... he branded her? On her..."
"Right on the honeypot," The Rat chuckled darkly. "Marked his property. Heard they put her on the Wooden Horse after that. By now, she's probably split wide open."
"SHUT UP!"
Ye Chen roared, his Qi exploding outward. The stall shook. The Rat flinched, hiding a smirk behind his sleeve.
"I'm going to kill him," Ye Chen hissed, tears of blood leaking from his eyes. "I'm going to chop Feng Wuya into a thousand pieces and feed him to the dogs!"
"Good luck with that, hero," The Rat said, swiping the crystal back. "Cell 4. Northern entrance. The shift change is in one hour."
Ye Chen turned and vanished into the rain, running on pure, suicidal adrenaline.
The Rat watched him go. Then, he pulled out a communication talisman.
"Young Master Feng," The Rat said respectfully. " The fish has taken the bait. He is heading to the North Entrance. He is... sufficiently motivated."
The Feng Estate was a fortress, but Ye Chen knew the blind spots. He had studied the layout for years, planning for the day he would crush the clan.
He moved like a ghost, using the Shadow Step technique Old Yan had taught him. He scaled the outer wall, slipped past the patrolling beasts, and reached the secluded Northern Garden.
There, hidden beneath a fake rockery, was the entrance to the dungeon.
Two guards stood by the door. They were laughing, passing a flask of wine between them.
Ye Chen crouched in the bushes, listening.
"Man, did you see the size of the Master's cock?" one guard laughed. "When he plugged the Ice Goddess in the mirror room? I thought she was going to split in half."
"Yeah," the other replied, wiping his mouth. "But the Wooden Horse is doing the real work tonight. I heard her screaming an hour ago. Now she's just whimpering. Warden Gui said her legs are spread so wide you could drive a carriage between them."
Ye Chen's vision went red.
He didn't use stealth. He lunged.
SLASH.
His black sword severed the first guard's head before he could even blink.
The second guard reached for his signal flare.
THWACK.
Ye Chen spun, driving his fist into the guard's throat, crushing his windpipe. The guard collapsed, gurgling.
"Scum," Ye Chen spat on the corpses. "You don't deserve to speak her name."
He dragged the bodies into the bushes and stole a set of keys. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. The images from the Memory Crystal and the guards' vulgar words were looping in his mind.
Mirror room? Plugged? Wooden Horse?
"Hold on, Qingyue," he prayed. "I'm coming."
He unlocked the heavy iron door and descended into the damp, moldy darkness of the dungeon.
The hallway to Cell 4 was long and silent. The only sound was the dripping of water and the distant echo of rustling chains.
Ye Chen crept forward, his sword raised. He passed cells filled with rotting skeletons, but he ignored them. He was focused on the end of the hall.
There, a single door stood ajar. A green light spilled out.
He crept closer. He could hear sounds now.
Creak... Creak...
The sound of wood straining.
And a voice. A soft, broken, rhythmic whimpering.
"Ah... ah... too... deep... ah..."
It was her.
Ye Chen's heart hammered against his ribs. He reached the doorframe and peered inside.
The sight that greeted him froze the blood in his veins.
The room was bathed in eerie green light. In the center stood the Wooden Horse.
Su Qingyue was there.
She was exactly as The Rat had described, and worse.
She was straddling the sharp beam. Her ankles were weighed down by massive stones, pulling her legs almost straight down, forcing her crotch to grind against the wedge. She was completely naked, her skin pale and covered in sweat and oil.
Her head hung low, her hair matted over her face.
But it was what was happening to her that broke Ye Chen.
She wasn't just sitting there. She was... moving.
Because of the pain, or perhaps because of the drugs, she was unconsciously rocking her hips. Every time the pain became too much, she would lift herself slightly, only for the weights to drag her back down.
Thump.
The wedge slammed into her split crotch.
"Ooooh..." She let out a long, shuddering moan. It didn't sound like pain anymore. It sounded like a ruined, broken pleasure.
Between her legs, the area was a mess. Clear fluids and blood coated the wood. The angry red brand FENG SLAVE was visible every time she lifted up, glowing like a target.
Ye Chen stepped into the room, his sword lowering.
"Qingyue?"
The sound of his voice cut through the haze.
Su Qingyue's head snapped up. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused. She looked at the figure in the doorway.
"Ye... Ye Chen?"
She blinked, trying to clear the fog. Was this a hallucination?
"I'm here," Ye Chen choked out, tears streaming down his face. "I'm here to save you."
He rushed forward to cut the chains.
But Su Qingyue didn't look relieved.
Her eyes widened in sheer, absolute terror. She tried to close her legs, but the wood and the weights held her open, displaying her ruined, branded, dripping genitals directly to her fiancé.
"No!" she screamed, a sound of pure shame. "Don't look! Don't look at me!"
She tried to cover herself with her hands, but her wrists were tied to the beam.
"Get out!" she shrieked, thrashing on the horse, driving the wedge deeper in her panic. "Get out! You can't see me like this! I'm dirty! I'm a slave!"
"I don't care!" Ye Chen shouted, raising his sword to strike the shackles. "I will kill him! I will take you away!"
Slow clap.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The sound came from the shadows behind the wooden horse.
Ye Chen froze.
From the darkness, a figure emerged. He was holding a glass of wine, dressed in impeccable robes.
Feng Wuya.
"Very touching," Feng Wuya smiled, his eyes glowing with violet amusement. "The hero arrives to save the damsel. But you're a bit late, Ye Chen."
He reached out and placed his hand on Su Qingyue's sweat-soaked shoulder. She flinched, leaning into his touch instinctively, like a beaten dog seeking its master.
"She's already broken in," Feng Wuya said. "Look at the horse, Ye Chen. Look how wet the wood is."
He pointed at the fluid running down the beam.
"That's not tears. That's lust."
Ye Chen's grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles cracked. The Killing Intent in the room spiked to a suffocating level.
"Feng... Wu... Ya..."
"Welcome to the show," Feng Wuya grinned, tossing the wine glass aside. It shattered.
"Now, let's see if you can fight as well as you can watch."