My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 633 - 419 She Comes Herself

Dong Gong Ruoshu arrived briskly and left just as swiftly. With a spring of her feet, she hopped over the threshold as though playing some childhood game, like a little dumpling plunging into the abyss of night — she was born bearing the festive joy of New Year's celebrations.

Yet the sight of her white dress cast shadows, reminiscent of an ethereal ghost, fading to the verge of vanishing.

Chen Yi carried the lantern back for Dong Gong Ruoshu. The wind shook the flame, and the moss-covered walls danced with its light and shadow. Yin Weiyin noticed how the firelight stretched Chen Yi's figure thin and long, resembling a ruby-red carrot harvested during autumn.

"Return to your room."

Two words, spat coldly.

Yin Weiyin shivered visibly, wanting to say something further, but realizing he had already turned and walked away toward his quarters, his silhouette moving insistently under the flickering lamplight.

There was no option of being dragged away by him, so she could only brace herself and follow. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Once inside the bedroom, the heavy slam of the door resonated like a foreboding drumbeat. Yin Weiyin watched him lock it firmly, her heart sinking as if mounting a silent rebellion within her chest. Her feet trembled beneath her while murky despair spread across the lake of her soul.

It was only now that Chen Yi turned around and spoke, his tone slow and deliberate:

"Yin Weiyin, truly unexpected... You could bury so many traps."

A chill ran across the scalp of the Taoist woman, her tongue fumbling clumsily, failing to find the words to defend herself. Instead, she stammered out:

"Y-you... you never asked..."

Chen Yi dragged a chair forward, sitting astride it with the casual arrogance of a domineering lord. He lit the candle and let a mocking smile show on his lips:

"Asked? Would asking genuinely uncover anything?

"The hidden vein that threads miles unseen—a cunning art reserved for those blessed with immortality."

The corners of Yin Weiyin's priestly robes quivered like chaff tossed in the wind; the Taoist dared not respond — her heart an icy void.

The hidden scheme, the distant prelude. It dawned on her: months ago, she had unwittingly laid the groundwork for her downfall, as if preparing chrysanthemums for tea.

She felt an urge to cry—the type that offers no release, only unbearable frustration. After an extended silence, she finally whispered:

"H-husband… it was wrong of me."

"Wrong? No, not wrong." Chen Yi sighed heavily, delivering his reply with a tired resignation. "The methods of an immortal are exceptional, far beyond the reach of mortals like me. It's as they say: what's too easily acquired is rarely cherished. You must have planned this meticulously, just to ensure I wouldn't obtain it so easily."

Yin Weiyin could detect the biting sarcasm woven throughout his words—far more terrifying than outright fury. Nobody understood his unsettling nature during moments like this better than her… not since the underworld stole his gentler demeanor away.

"I've made a mistake..." she pleaded weakly, scrambling for excuses. "I truly admit it was wrong, and it won't happen again. I-I was merely hoping to provoke Miss Donggong into rebelling against the Empress Dowager."

Chen Yi shot back with a cold laugh:

"I don't care for your elaborate explanations."

Yin Weiyin's mind went blank in an instant.

Before her, Chen Yi stood enveloped like a mountain cloaked in layers, and she realized: there would be no escaping this reckoning.

Dizziness overwhelmed her, dark thoughts swirling. She knew that if Chen Yi dredged up old scores, counting back to the very beginning…

It was over!

She'd lost count of how many transgressions there had been…

"Shall you do it yourself," Chen Yi asked unhurriedly, "or shall I intervene instead?"

Not long ago, she had played the role of a doting wife, coaxing sweet nothings from his lips while weaving her devious schemes. For all the control she once held, this time, her plans had unraveled spectacularly. Yin Weiyin's insides turned frigid, the hopeless cold robbing her of balance — she could only hope to see the sun rise the day after tomorrow.

Fate rules over all, leaving mortals powerless!

Time and destiny.

"I'll do it myself..."

Yin Weiyin answered finally, her priestly robes falling limp like a shattered peak of Buzhou Mountain. The fabric sagged downward, its cloudy mist dispersed to reveal pale, flawless skin in stark exposure.

The faint light through paper windows cast an obscured silhouette, outlining her figure like an ethereal moon breaking into the chamber—a celestial goddess clothed in glacial brilliance.

She trembled and spoke haltingly: "Tonight, I will not be your wife."

"Then what will you be?"

"Your… your furnace." Yin Weiyin uttered each word with trembling courage.

Bracing herself, she slowly moved closer to Chen Yi, her jade-like hand reaching out to grasp his.

Her voice wavered with a concealed sob: "...Come morning, you must coax me—promise me that."

.........…

.........…

This time, Yuanfeng Building faced significant losses, paying dearly not only in silver but in blood. And the casualties were not few.

A steep price indeed, yet what was gained?

Nothing.

A futile endeavor, left empty-handed.

The fugitive agents slipped through their grasp, and they nearly ignited conflict with Xique Pavilion because of it.

The housekeeper spent the evening trembling in fear, cautious not to utter any words that might infuriate his master.

However, Huang Jing's expression revealed nothing—neither sorrow nor joy. Moreover, he seemed relaxed enough to leisurely toss meat to the dogs.

"If you have questions, ask them now."

The housekeeper straightened himself nervously before hesitating to inquire: "Shopkeeper, this time we failed to capture the spies—do you consider this a loss or a gain?"

He avoided asking directly about Huang Jing's emotions.

"How could this be a gain?" Huang Jing paused briefly before replying: "Xique Pavilion discovered us. They'll remain cautious."

"But we both aim to capture the Lonely Smoke Sword. Why would they be wary?"

"I want to kill the Lonely Smoke Sword. They do not."

"So… so what should we do?" The housekeeper gasped. "Xique Pavilion is officially sanctioned, making their operations far easier than ours."

The dog tied to the post focused intently on the meat, its tail wagging furiously.

Huang Jing stroked the dog's head while speaking evenly:

"The Lonely Smoke Sword is a beast."

"A beast..." It was no secret among them that the Lonely Smoke Sword was a wolf-child, but the housekeeper couldn't fathom why Huang Jing would describe him as such now.

"A beast has no rationality, only emotion."

Huang Jing enunciated each word carefully:

"Since he's a wolf-child, he'll risk everything to rescue wolf cubs!"

......

Inside the Wang family estate in Shantong City:

"Has it come out yet? Has the baby come out?"

"It's here, it's here—it's a girl."

When the first four words were spoken, the elderly matron's eyes lit up with anticipation. But by the last words, her face turned dark.

Another girl...

Her daughter-in-law had birthed five or six girls since marrying into the Wang family.

This time, despite hiring a host of witches to perform rituals, it still ended in disappointment—a girl again.

The midwife stood bloody-handed at the threshold, her body half inside, half outside the birthing room. The Wang family's wide, sturdy threshold resembled a single wooden bridge upon first glance.

Madam Wang lowered her heavy eyelids, her sagging brows thoughtful. The midwife, sensing deliberation, asked:

"Do you want to keep her?"

Madam Wang answered without hesitation:

"Girls are burdens—they won't survive the winter."

That meant no.

The midwife nodded, making no haste to return to the birthing room. She ventured another question:

"Shall this one be abandoned at the temple or given away?"

The aged wrinkles pressed into the folds of her skin as Madam Wang's weathered brow furrowed further. Numerous thoughts churned within her mind, and she mulled her response aloud, unaware the midwife had begun turning away.

Yet suddenly, Madam Wang inquired: "Why does the Wang family attract so many girls? Not one boy in all this time… Why are daughters so eager to reincarnate into our line?"

The midwife replied casually, "Raise boys tough, raise girls tender—your family must be blessed..."

The words hadn't finished when Madam Wang interrupted: "Don't flatter us. The Wang family is poor." After pausing for breath, she added: "Our backbone of the household does work scraping the bottom rung of society—unable even to keep the pot afloat."

The midwife rotated her eyes slightly, tentatively asking: "Then what do you intend to do?"

"Use the folk remedy… let her cross the bridge." Madam Wang didn't lift her eyelids, nor spare a glance toward the mother and daughter inside. "Do it slowly. Frighten these souls so they dare not reincarnate here again."

Even the seasoned midwife flinched, not from the act of drowning the child, but from realizing Madam Wang planned to watch the ritual herself—to witness the full humiliation.

Moments later, the midwife brought the baby forward—there was no struggle from the mother, as might have been expected. Clearly, the Wang family's daughter-in-law had already grown accustomed to such outcomes.

A large wooden vat was filled with water and fitted with a thin plank. The still-crying infant was held under her armpits and placed atop it.

"Baby crosses the bridge, baby crosses the bridge… What's this? She fell in the water..."

Plop.

The baby's head dipped into the water.

Splash.

Her loud cries were stifled within moments, only to be seized and lifted once more.

"Baby crosses again, baby crosses again… Oh, there she goes, falling in again..."

...And so the cycle repeated.

What began as piercing wails declined into hoarse exhaustion; bubbles flickered atop the water, shrinking moment by moment. By the end, no sound remained, and Madam Wang's tightly furrowed brow eased into a calm expression.

The midwife dumped the water out and placed the limp body back into the vat, following an age-old method passed down across generations: leave the vessel untouched for days to thoroughly scare away reincarnating spirits.

She collected one guan from Madam Wang and stepped over the high threshold, glancing back as she departed...

Red silk fluttered, osmanthus trees swayed, and Madam Wang wore jewels upon her neck—it turned out this was a house rich in gold and jade.

Madam Wang noticed her hunger after waiting all day for her daughter-in-law's delivery. Patting her stomach, she promptly ordered a servant: "Bring me a bowl of Labazhou."

"Should I serve some to the madam also?"

"That barren wretch—feed her half a portion. Enough to keep her half-alive." Madam Wang waved the servant away impatiently.

Then she seated herself at the head of the room, her sagging brow furrowing again as she waited.

Minutes stretched into eternity, bearing no response.

Madam Wang grew suspicious, raising her eyes to probe the stillness. She began to call for urgency when she witnessed the unsettling scene beyond her open front door.

A drift of gray satin floated past the threshold, catching Madam Wang's attention instinctively. Slowly, her gaze followed its movement...

A silhouette, dark as ash, emerged, accompanied by an oppressive chill. Madam Wang shivered instinctively, feeling the room grow colder with every breath she took. In the sticky night air outside, it almost seemed that a savage, predatory wolf had strode into her aged view.

Was she hallucinating?

"Who… who's there..."

Madam Wang's trembled voice inquired, until finally discerning the figure wasn't a beast—it was a man with unkempt hair.

The man didn't reply. His sword was concealed beneath coarse gray cloth as he stepped toward the wooden vat. Reaching inside, he pulled the drowned infant free, tearing a sizable patch from his own robe to swaddle the child securely.

Seeing the infant revived, its unsettled spirit yet lingering, Madam Wang grew terrified that the next child would again be a girl. In a shriek of rage, she cried out: "What filthy beggar spawn dares steal my child?! Leave her be! Interrupt my household again, and I shall summon the guards to arrest you!"

The man halted briefly, his body still, yet his head twisted back to glare at her.

Madam Wang's blood chilled as fear crept through her veins. But the thought of the child being taken away—and her lineage fading into obscurity—drove her to summon her household with a piercing shout.

Swoosh!

In a blink, a steel flash cut the cold air, returning to its sheath already stained crimson. Beneath it lay severed strands of gray cloth.

Thud.

Madam Wang's stunned expression twisted grotesquely as her body collapsed to the floor.

The man carelessly tore another piece of cloth from his person to rewrap his sword. Holding the deceased infant tightly, he strode out.

He hadn't walked far past the Wang family compound's entrance.

Step, step, step…

Amid the silver moon's radiance, footsteps descended rooftops and eaves, unheard until they intruded with deliberate menace.

Upon landing, silence pervaded the night briefly, before four to five figures emerged from shadowed alleys, encircling his path.

The leader smirked, mocking:

"You came here as expected, without us needing fanfare to lure you…

Impetuous beast."

Only now did piercing screams resonate from the Wang family estate, their horror shaking the stone tiles, summoning chaos within its halls.