Chapter Six: The Woman

Su Yuanbai glanced sideways at Duan Lingqi, who was finally showing genuine emotion. If he remembered correctly, this old man was looking at him with seriousness for the first time.

“If I get the chance, I will,” Su Yuanbai replied evenly as he leapt into the tunnel, his tone calm yet equally sincere.

Duan Lingqi’s eyes flickered with a trace of doubt upon hearing this, but he simply bowed deeply in the direction Su Yuanbai departed, silent.

The narrow passage was still about fifty steps straight, then a left turn for another ninety, and finally up for fifty steps more before Su Yuanbai returned to his pitch-black cell.

It was only now, with the contrast, that Su Yuanbai realized why, in that other cell, the old man’s features and movements had appeared so vivid and detailed. Apart from the darkness not being much of an obstacle to his vision, the more important reason was the ceiling studded with glowing night pearls, making the chamber as bright as day. The old man had indeed transformed his cell into something akin to a wealthy noble’s room.

Judging from these people’s attitudes, his own status and identity must be very high—though it could also be due to his formidable strength. But then, why was he in a prison cell? And it felt rather as if he’d already died once.

Only once he was alone did Su Yuanbai allow the confusion to show on his face. He frowned slightly, muttering to himself.

A faint, elusive sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts—light, nimble, and quite unlike the jailers’ stride before. Whoever owned these footsteps was intent on concealing their presence.

Was someone else coming? Or was someone trying to leave?

Su Yuanbai raised his eyes to the heavy iron door that kept him inside. He felt no fear—only the urge to satisfy his curiosity.

He approached the door, reaching out to touch the thick iron surface, unconsciously applying a bit of strength.

A deep thud rang out, loud in the silent prison, as sudden and startling as thunder on a clear day.

Had they cut corners building this door?

Uncertain of his own strength, Su Yuanbai glanced at the now battered door—once sturdy iron, now little more than scrap—and the bronze lock still hanging there, silently wondering to himself.

Such a commotion naturally caused whoever was lurking in the dark corridor to melt deeper into the shadows, their hiding place unknown.

The corridor was straight, no twists or turns, its end visible at a glance.

Su Yuanbai looked to the left, where the passage ended in an arched opening. Its edges showed the faint outline of steps—a staircase leading out of the dungeon, it seemed.

To the right, the corridor ended in a massive bronze door, entirely blocking the way. Carved upon it was the lifelike head of a tiger, its golden eyes gleaming with an uncanny intelligence, as if prowling the cellblock, watching all that transpired within.

But a closer look revealed two long, threadlike whiskers at the corners of the tiger’s mouth, and atop its head, a pair of antlers shaped like those of a stag.

“Pervert.”

A cool, clear woman’s voice suddenly sounded above Su Yuanbai’s head, followed immediately by a sharp rush of wind as something plummeted toward him.

In fact, Su Yuanbai had been so absorbed in his observation of the corridor—particularly the vivid carving on the bronze door—that he was caught off guard by the sudden, rapid attack from above.

Still, that voice, cold and disdainful, served as a warning.

Su Yuanbai instinctively stepped back.

A flash of reddish-brown streaked across his vision—a prison robe?—but before he could get a better look, a new onslaught greeted him, swift and violent as a squall.

Su Yuanbai knew nothing of martial arts. As the barrage of fists and feet came at him, he could only raise his arms on instinct, shielding himself from the disciplined, increasingly powerful blows.

With every strike, the sound of heavy iron chains clashing rang out—so loud that one could imagine, without such restraints, her true power would be far more fearsome.

Not bad, he thought, I can take this.

Silently enduring the assault, Su Yuanbai gauged the force of the attacks. Realizing he could withstand them, he took the opportunity to study his assailant.

The plain, collarless reddish-brown prison robe, the heavy chains clanking with every move—these drew his attention first.

The robe needed no explanation, but the chains were clearly no ordinary ironwork. Each interlocking ring was engraved with runes, the script reminiscent of the misty, cloudlike characters on the yellow paper he’d seen before.

Only then did Su Yuanbai study the woman’s face: bright eyes burning with barely contained anger, a delicate nose, lips like cherries, and occasionally the flash of perfect white teeth.

A beautiful woman, he concluded.

But his unabashed stare only angered her further. Her blows grew fiercer, targeting his neck, temples, lower back, and even his groin. Each movement sent sharp, unnatural currents of air swirling about, carrying a distinct, forceful energy.

At this moment, the chains binding her wrists flickered with engraved runes, casting an eerie blue glow.

“If it weren’t for this Soulbinding Chain, you’d be dead in this prison,” the woman spat, halting her attack. Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall, carrying a faint scent of lotus. She glared at Su Yuanbai, who didn’t have a single bead of sweat on his face, her words bitten off with sorrowful fury.

Soulbinding Chain? Slightly different from the Demonbinding Chain the old man had mentioned.

Hearing the chain’s name, Su Yuanbai looked down at the woman’s wrists again; the glowing runes dimmed and faded as the chain returned to normal.

“I have, in fact, already died once.”

Now that the woman was calm, Su Yuanbai dropped his arms and glanced at them, discovering that his injuries were far less severe than he’d expected—just a few red marks.

“Dead men wander the underworld; they don’t linger here. You’re lucky you’re not bound by a chain—you can shield yourself with your inner energy. Otherwise, your death would have been ugly indeed.”

The woman’s tone was clear and mocking, her demeanor now cool. She barely met Su Yuanbai’s gaze; even when she did, she quickly looked away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“You’re number one seventy-seven—the female prisoner who was just brought here.”

Su Yuanbai ignored her deliberate provocation, turning his head slightly to regard her with calm detachment.

“I’m not a criminal! I was framed! I didn’t kill my master, and Qi’er never ate anyone!”

But to the woman, Su Yuanbai’s even tone sounded like an irrefutable verdict. Her agitation flared again. Her tangled hair stirred, and that strange energy began to swirl about her once more—but the blue runes on her shackles glowed, halting her in place.

“Why… why does no one believe me…”

She lowered her gaze, murmuring to the Soulbinding Chain around her wrists. The runes’ blue light flickered, relentless as vengeful spirits, a constant reminder.

She was a prisoner now—a woman convicted of murdering her master, of letting her spirit pet devour humans—a prisoner destined to spend her life in this cell.