Transmigration:The Villain Wants A Happy End Without His BeastHusbands-Chapter 81: A Demon Tool

Wuhen slowly turned his head toward Ningyan. One ear twitched. His tails swayed, light, pleased, almost cheerful.

Then he released Mei Ren’s body.

It hit the ground with a dull thud.

"Look," he lifted his hand and held up the still-warm heart, red and glistening under the moonlight, and waved it lightly in Ningyan’s direction. "It’s her heart."

Ningyan stared at him with a flat, exhausted expression.

Wuhen, however, looked genuinely pleased as if he had brought back a gift.

Before Ningyan could respond, he felt another presence.

He looked up.

Rong Yue stood on the roof above them, framed by moonlight in all his infuriatingly composed, dangerous beauty. Blue feline eyes swept over Ningyan first, lingering briefly on the thin line of blood at his neck.

Ningyan wiped it away slowly.

Rong Yue dropped down from the roof in a smooth motion and landed beside them.

His gaze flicked to Wuhen, who was still waving the heart.

"You’re disgusting him," Rong Yue said flatly.

Wuhen blinked. "But it’s meant for him."

He stepped closer and extended his arm. "Here. Take it."

Only then did Ningyan realize something unsettling.

He wasn’t gagging. He wasn’t retching. His stomach wasn’t turning inside out.

He should have been horrified.

Instead, he just felt... tired.

"Were you waiting for her to attack me first?" he asked quietly.

Wuhen shrugged.

Ningyan decided not to press further.

She was dead. He was alive. And that meant she wouldn’t be the last one.

His gaze shifted to the spear lying on the ground near Rong Yue.

He stepped toward it and bent down...

"Don’t." Rong Yue’s hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

Ningyan stopped and straightened.

Rong Yue’s eyes were fixed on the spear, sharp and wary. "I told you something felt wrong during the fight."

He glanced at Wuhen. "That energy."

Wuhen tossed the heart up and caught it again, blood slicking his fingers.

"Demonic?" he asked casually.

"Yes," Rong Yue replied. "A demon tool."

His expression darkened. "Why would an assassin be carrying one?"

Ningyan studied the spear more carefully now.

He had touched it. And the moment he had, it felt like the weapon wanted to crawl into him, consume him, hollow him out from the inside.

"It gave her confidence," Ningyan said. "And strength."

His jaw tightened. "She would have killed me if Wuhen hadn’t arrived."

Rong Yue’s gaze snapped back to him.

"Who," he asked, "is trying to kill you?"

Rong Yue had a charismatic air about him. He was calm, composed, and naturally commanding. He carried himself like someone who believed in order and reason, someone sensible. He was the complete opposite of Wuhen, who thrived on excitement and chaos, and nothing like Jun Haoxuan, who was strict, prideful, and disciplined to a fault. Nor was he like Lan Meishan, who was gentle and soothing, calm in a quiet, unobtrusive way.

Rong Yue gave off the energy of someone you could talk to freely, someone who wouldn’t judge, who wouldn’t press too hard. Being around him felt... safe.

"My father is dead," Ningyan said suddenly. "So it’s my stepmother. And her council."

He revealed it because, honestly, there was no point hiding it anymore.

Rong Yue looked genuinely surprised.

Even Wuhen stopped what he was doing. He froze mid-motion, the heart still in his hand, and turned to look at Ningyan. Ningyan, however, kept his eyes on the spear lying on the ground, the red pulse around it faint but persistent.

Suddenly, voices began to rise nearby.

"Did you feel that?"

"Who was fighting just now?"

"Were beasts battling?"

They were close, too close. Curious students.

Ningyan felt a strange sense of relief. At least they hadn’t arrived while the battle was still raging. Though he didn’t know it yet, a few students from the academy had already caught glimpses of the fight from afar.

"Wuhen," Rong Yue said suddenly, his tone decisive. "Handle the body. We’re going to my manor. Not yours."

Ningyan’s heart skipped.

"You handle the body," Wuhen replied casually.

He dropped the heart onto the ground and walked straight toward Ningyan, lifting his blood-smeared hands toward his face.

Ningyan’s eyes widened.

But Wuhen paused, lowered his hands, and frowned slightly. "What happened to your cheek?"

Ningyan blinked. "Huh?"

Wuhen pointed at his face. "It’s red. A little swollen."

Then he glanced at Rong Yue. "Take him, Yue’er. Have him taken care of. I’ll deal with the body."

Ningyan’s heart skipped again. What is happening right now?

Rong Yue’s lips twitched faintly. "Fine."

He turned and flicked his hand, releasing a sharp silver glow. The spear shattered into light and vanished completely.

"We’ll analyze it later," he said calmly.

Ningyan nodded, still a little dazed.

They left the area together and headed straight for Rong Yue’s manor.

The moment they arrived, servants swarmed in efficiently. Ningyan was drawn a hot, sweet-scented bath. Fresh night robes were prepared. Gentle hands washed him, dressed him, and brushed his hair, their expressions warm and curious.

Tiger ears flicked. Tails swayed softly.

They whispered among themselves, clearly wondering what a phoenix was doing in their prince’s manor but none of them dared ask directly.

Meanwhile, Ningyan was having a full-blown midlife crisis.

And shockingly, the fact that he had nearly been killed wasn’t even the main reason.

No, he was panicking because he was about to be in the presence of both Wuhen and Rong Yue at the same time.

Were they really a couple?

And why, why, did this feel like it was about to turn into some kind of... situation?

His face flushed bright red as a vivid, absolutely inappropriate image flashed through his mind. Him caught between Wuhen and Rong Yue. Being ruined by them at the same time.

No!

Absolutely not.

Ningyan stared at his reflection in the mirror in sheer horror.

"Are you alright?" a servant asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. She was holding a small container of ointment, her hand hovering near the wound on his neck.

Ningyan blinked and looked at her. Her feline eyes were filled with polite curiosity.

"I—yes. Sorry," he said quickly.

She smiled and gently applied the ointment to his neck while another servant brushed his hair. Ningyan stared at the mirror again, resolutely forcing his mind to stay empty. Once they finished, he sat stiffly on the edge of the bed.

The servants didn’t leave.

They waited.

That somehow made everything worse.

A moment later, another female servant entered and bowed slightly. "His Highness and Prince Wuhen are ready to see you."

Ningyan’s heart skipped violently.

He rose to his feet, clutching his robes as he followed them through the halls. They stopped before a chamber that felt far more lived-in than the chamber he just exited, warm lantern light, silver and gold accents woven seamlessly together.

Rong Yue’s room.

Rong Yue was seated at a table, a jar of wine nearby, a cup lifted to his lips. He had changed clothes, but unfortunately, his robes hung loose on his body, revealing a firm, solid chest. His golden hair was let down, his tiger ears perked casually.

And then there was Wuhen.

Shirtless. Only pants clinging low on his hips.

He lounged on the bed like he owned the world, nine tails spread lazily behind him, a smoke pipe between his lips. His crimson hair was loose, his red-gold eyes glowing with unmistakable mischief.

The servants quietly withdrew, leaving Ningyan alone with them.

He stood there awkwardly, frozen in place, heart racing so loudly he was sure they could hear it.

Ningyan swallowed. He really hoped he was going to survive this without getting fucked. And he meant that both literally and figuratively.