"Fuck me!! Why!? WHY!? WHY!?"

Ouyang Qianye’s shout echoed throughout the area, disturbing the orange bird in the tree off the side.

It snapped its head out of its nest briefly, looking around for the threat, and not finding it, before it found it, the bird threw its head back into the nest.

At the same time, outside the shack, a wide gathering of cultivators, both men and women, had circled.

The great majority of the hundreds poking their heads through the crowd, shoving and climbing over one another to see, were outer disciples wearing pale blue robes.

It was the standard uniform, made so that it would, as much as possible, not be a hindrance to the cultivator.

Their lives were constantly fraught with danger so their clothing could not be allowed to hinder movement or techniques.

They had tightly fitted sleeves, narrow cuffs and a shorter hem secured by a wide waist belt as well as arm protectors so the fabric never interfered with their movement or their techniques.

Mocking laughter shuffled through them.

"Did that fool not already get fucked in the arena?"

"Hahaha! He’s asking to get fucked by Senior Meng Jue!"

"He can’t believe his luck!"

These disciples were all gathered so faithfully, in such captured attention, around a smaller cohort of three inner disciples who stood at the front in robes of a darker shade of blue.

All three of the inner disciples standing ahead of the gathering were men. Each bore different bearings, although the one constant was that glaring, mocking and slobbering audacity and arrogance over their faces.

Meng Jue, tall, box-faced and brandishing a large nose, pointed a finger of his calloused fist. He was glaring sharply with his thick dark brows, at the rather tall woman that stood before them all, blocking the door.

Standing at 6’1, only two inches shorter than Meng Jue, she had clear, pale skin draped in green servant robes.

Her hands were hidden beneath bandage wrappings, and her dark hair, which was coloured in a gradient from black to gold to its tips, was tied up into a bun, fully revealing her somewhat sharp, inhuman ears. A few strands were free from it, brushing against her forehead, over which there was a black lotus with seven petals embellished.

Despite her status, she was rather beautiful; stunningly so, in fact.

Yet looking at her, there were varying degrees of disgust and contempt on the disciples’ faces.

Her dark golden eyes—possessing three dark rings close to their pupils—were staring the inner disciple down warily. She was standing straight, seemingly unguarded.

Despite the consequences that would befall a servant for attacking a disciple—an inner disciple no less—and even despite Ouyang Qianye’s cold indifference toward her, she was committed to defending him with her life here.

She would not be able to face her ancestors if she did not repay a life for a life.

’If it comes down to it... I will release the first seal.’ She thought as her jaw tensed faintly.

At the same time, hearing Ouyang Qianye speak, at first, Meng Jue’s hard face loosened in shock.

Her own brows furrowed a little, and her lips pursed.

Then Meng Jue’s face rapidly tightened back down, and a vein bulged up down the middle of his forehead as his face was reddened with lividity and his jaw snapped wide.

"You have the energy to squeal like the injured dog you are! Ouyang Qianye, if you do not leave that shack within twenty breaths, I will break it down myself and drag your ugly self out!" He spat, stomping a few steps forward.

"Respectfully, Inner Disciple Meng Jue, I must remind you," the woman began, stepping forward herself as her jaw tightened briefly and her brows creased, "my lord requires rest. The business that you have with him can wait until he has healed. If you attempt to use force, I have no choice but to defend myself and my master."

"And I must remind you, servant woman," Meng Jue spat back, stepping closer to stare down at her, his eyes red and burning, "you are a degenerate elf, barely in the fifth stage of Body Refinement. When you are hardly worth keeping alive already, what gives you the right to tell me what to do? I have been kind enough! You ought to kneel and kowtow to me, begging that I do not kill you before your profaned master!"

"Meng Jue, kill that foul elf! What are you waiting for!?" Xiao Bo encouraged, stabbing a sharp finger the servants’ way.

"The disciplinary elders might even thank you in secret for ridding the sect of her! Kill it quickly and relieve us all, Senior Meng!" Mo Chen laughed venomously.

The disgust that had been festering over the outer disciples’ faces squirmed forth through their mouths, and they burst into a song of malice. They so happily agreed with the desires of the inner disciples that had come along with Meng Jue.

Thereafter, a crisp, sharp sound erupted. The crowd jumped, taken by joy as they hollered and laughed.

Ouyang Qianye’s servant had her head slapped in one direction. Her skin was quickly reddening where Meng Jue’s thick hand had slapped her.

Despite this, she drew her head back level without retaliating.

Then another slap cracked through the air, and this one was harder than the last, staggering her and knocking the air from her lungs.

The power in it broke the knot that she had made for her hair, bursting its length free to fall all the way down to her calves as she stood herself upright once more.

Her face, within moments, had discoloured to one side, darkening into a deep, gradually swelling red shrinking her right eye because of it.

The crowds cheers grew, reverberating through the ground, and Meng Jue’s hand drew back open to deliver another, harder slap.

His hip turned fast, and his hand swung.

Her eyes weren’t watching it, more looking silently at Meng Jue’s wide, wild grin and the anger that was in his eyes.

When his hand was moments away from slapping her once more, while still in motion, he suddenly clenched it into a fist.

Meng Jue was at the seventh stage of the Qi Condensation Realm; such a punch would kill any Body Refinement cultivator if they took it as directly as she had taken the slaps.

In the moments that Meng Jue’s fist had transformed, abruptly, from within her sleeve, the shimmer of metal slipped out.

She gripped the handle of it, and her right hand snapped up, aiming to stab him through the heart.

Some in the crowd to the left noticed what she had done.

"Meng Jue, watch out!"

"Senior, the half-elf has a dagger!"

They hollered as she adjusted her body to dodge the punch.

She slipped it, yet without being able to stab him, she pulled back from her attack, avoiding the grab of Meng Jue’s hand. In that motion, so that he would not catch her, she kicked at the inner joint of his leg, making his knees buckle under him.

Then the crash of bone against bone resounded as her knee crashed into his face.

She was moments from retreating, but all the advantage of surprise was gone by now.

Meng Jue roared, throwing his body and bleeding face into her, a tackle smashed and scrapped them over the ground. "DESPICABLE SWINE!"

He rapidly mounted her and raised his fist. Her eyes widened and her pupils constricted seeing the faint, blue mist that began gathering around it.

Her blade shimmered as she raised it rapidly and she stabbed it through his thigh. The pain that it made him suffer forced a roar out of him, staggering his punch enough that she was able to throw her upper torso to one side, letting the fist punch into the concrete, cracking the ground and leaving a deep imprint.

A guttural savage roar erupted from Meng Jue and this time he used his other hand to strangle her.

"Today both you and your master die, bitch!"

The crowd that had been stunned to silence erupted once more.

"Kill her!"

"Kill her!"

"Kill her!"

The dagger clattered to the ground as her face contorted sharply and her hands rose to try claw his away, choking for air as veins bulged through her neck and her legs kicked desperately. Saliva slobbered down her lips as it clogged her throat.

Her face had gone red, then grayed to a bruised, ugly blue, and unnoticed by anyone, the ground beneath her back began cracking.

The bandages over her hands began flaking away. And Meng Jue was no better; the skin of his hands was drying and cracking and where she clutched his robes over his forearms, desperately trying to pull him off, the material—although at a much slower pace—was withering.

One of the lotus petals on her forehead had strange flecks of gold growing. It was faint enough that it could easily go unnoticed, however, it was gradually intensifying.

Then, suddenly, the door smashed open and a sword came flying through the doorway, lancing true through the air to pierce Meng Jue’s head.

"Meng Jue, you witless goblin, get your filthy hands off of her!"

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