After a Fake Death, the Emotionless Dao Senior Sister Became Obsessed - Chapter 63

The room was stuffy and airtight, yet it felt as if a pair of eyes was constantly observing her.

Chu Zhao forcefully suppressed the panic in her chest and slowly moved over.

She bent down and touched Guiji, which had inexplicably appeared in the room.

She couldn’t understand how a sword from distant Xizhou could reach Yaoguang Ze.

The long sword began to hum restlessly, emitting a crimson glow, seeming to crave her body temperature. The cold blade quickly heated up.

The halo lingered for a long time, as if… it was constantly staring at her.

A chill rose up Chu Zhao’s spine, and she retreated in panic. In the silence, she even had the illusion of being presumptuously touched by the sword.

“Bad sword!” she whispered in rebuke, no longer looking at the ominous weapon, and hastily hid herself in the soft bedding.

Pulling the reassuring gauze curtain, which blocked the seductive red light gradually filling the room, Chu Zhao tightly closed her eyes.

In the darkness, she could only hear her own heartbeat.

Will everything be alright after a sleep?

The lotus and white butterfly that had been staring at her would be gone, and that humming ominous sword would also disappear.

She was soon to be bonded with Luoyu, and the woman of immortal demeanor would come to accompany her.

Chu Zhao curled up, but her hand inadvertently touched something.

An extremely cold, softly pulsating chest, a damp, frosted garment, and further up, a well-defined brow, eyes, and nose bridge.

There was a person lying on her bed.

“Who are you…?” Chu Zhao trembled and retreated blankly, wanting to throw off the covers and escape.

But the woman suddenly flipped over and pressed down on her, seizing her waist.

Her sleeves tightly wrapped around Chu Zhao’s body, like a cold mist in a rainy night. The lotus leaves on the cuff brushed against her skin, causing a shiver.

“Don’t you recognize me?” Si Jing murmured softly, “Zhaozhao… you should recognize me.”

In the stuffy darkness, Chu Zhao saw a pair of deep red eyes, exactly like the yulong (fish dragon) she had met earlier, filled with loving obsession.

She turned her head away in a panic, but her cheek was gently turned back by a delicate hand, and her tightly bitten lip was also released.

“Zhaozhao, don’t be afraid.” Si Jing leaned down, her peach blossom eyes lowered, and her hair fell onto Chu Zhao’s collarbone, causing a slight itch.

“I… I just waited a little too long, so I specifically waited in Zhaozhao’s dream niche.”

Every moment out of sight of her little fish was so agonizing.

Fortunately, she saw it.

She saw Zhaozhao’s confusion upon waking, saw Zhaozhao blowing bubbles in the water, and saw the crimson flush around Zhaozhao’s eyes when she fled in panic.

She would be the pink lotus, the snow butterfly, and even every drop of water in the pond, accompanying her little fish at all times.

This way, Zhaozhao would never forget her again.

A chill ran down Chu Zhao’s chest. Mustering a breath, she bit down on Si Jing’s finger bone.

She tasted cold blood, and the hand constricting her waist loosened. Her eyes filled with shimmering tears, she pushed away the woman pressing on her, and lifted the covers, attempting to flee.

But her ankle was entangled by something cold and damp.

Chu Zhao looked back. The woman in a snow-white robe hung her head, curved her lips, and slowly licked the bite mark she had left on her finger bone.

The remaining hand lightly clenched, and in an instant, demonic energy, like soft silk, wrapped around her ankle.

There was no pain, only an irresistible damp coldness invading her skin.

“Zhaozhao, why do you want to run away again?” Her waist was embraced again by the person behind her, the woman’s voice low and melancholic.

“You clearly promised Yingzhi that we would be joined in marriage in Danyong City in the future.”

Chu Zhao struggled to pull at Si Jing’s fingers around her waist, shaking her head in distress, “I, I never promised!”

“Or perhaps,” Si Jing murmured to herself.

“When I was holding Zhaozhao just now, were you thinking about… Luoyu?”

Her cultivation largely constrained by the demonic energy, Chu Zhao struggled helplessly.

Suddenly, a sword light tinged with deep red slashed through the gauze curtain, cutting the demonic energy wrapped around her ankle and shaking off Si Jing’s restraint.

Guiji fell into Chu Zhao’s arms, the sword body humming, seemingly confronting the snow-robed woman behind her.

Chu Zhao held the long sword tightly, feeling a little more secure, and also a bit of guilt for having previously called Guiji an ominous sword.

She glanced nervously at the silent woman behind her, pointing the sword tip at her, “Bad demon cultivator, let me go! Where is A’Lang?”

Si Jing’s gaze rested on Chu Zhao’s face, then shifted to the long sword in her embrace, and she actually smiled.

“A’Lang,” she whispered.

In the month she had carelessly lost Zhaozhao, whom exactly had her little fish met?

But it didn’t matter, she would visit them one by one.

Silently, making Zhaozhao forget them all completely, with peace of mind.

Si Jing raised her hand, steadily stopping the sword tip that was inches away, disregarding the cut on her palm.

“It’s bleeding, it hurts so much…” She lowered her eyes and spoke softly, with a hint of eagerness, “Zhaozhao, will you help Yingzhi bandage it?”

Chu Zhao pursed her lips, firmly shook her head, and pulled Guiji away.

She turned and pushed aside the gauze curtain, but a cool, soft, crimson veil instantly gathered before her eyes again.

She rushed forward in distress but only touched a faint, flickering mist. No matter how hard she tried to escape, no matter how hard she tore at it, she couldn’t leave and was trapped in place.

The long sword in her arms suddenly stopped humming.

It was as if a hunter who had set a trap was watching the prey struggle with keen interest.

“…Guiji?” Chu Zhao called out blankly, “Help me, quickly help me escape.”

The cold sword hilt rubbed against her neck, as if acting spoiled, but made no move.

Chu Zhao only felt a coolness on her collarbone. The sword blade picked at her garment and slipped directly into her embrace.

The sword hilt, engraved with complex sigils, subtly stroked a certain spot, causing her face to flush, and all strength drained from her body.

“Bad sword!” Chu Zhao couldn’t help but let out a sob.

Chu Zhao didn’t understand why Guiji, which had just been helping her, was now so unfamiliar that it frightened her.

A blood mist enveloped her. Unlike Si Jing’s gentle confinement, it was nearly cutting into her flesh and blood, preventing any movement.

Her clothes were stripped away, and she was pressed onto the bed by a sword, so shameful that her vision blurred, yet her peripheral vision caught the snow-white figure not far away, remaining poised and composed.

Si Jing raised her peach blossom eyes, a blend of cool tenderness and rampant demonic energy.

Smiling, she leaned in, her fingertip brushing Chu Zhao’s lips, and sighed, “Zhaozhao, I told you.”

“…I won’t let you escape again.”

Chu Zhao was taken by surprise as delicate fingertips probed into her mouth. She tried to bite them in her embarrassment and annoyance, but she was overwhelmed; with Guiji wreaking havoc on her body, she was already soft and completely drained of strength.

She was so aggrieved that her eyes turned red. With the knuckle in her mouth, she couldn’t speak, only offering whimpering resistance.

Si Jing wiped away the moisture unconsciously flowing from the girl. A coldness flashed in her eyes as she noticed the unbridled sword maneuvering over the snow-white skin.

Yet, she showed no outward emotion, only speaking softly, “Zhaozhao, come into Yingzhi’s arms, alright?”

“Just call for me, and I will break Guiji and stop her from bullying you again,” she coaxed, smoothing Chu Zhao’s damp hair.

Red marks had been rubbed onto Chu Zhao’s wrists and ankles. The pain, mixed with an unbearable coldness, made her mind almost hazy, not to mention the rising tide of lust surging within her.

She cried, her eyes red, and sobbed out, “Si Jing, I… I want Yingzhi.”

The blood mist binding her hands and feet was instantly severed. Snow-colored robes wrapped around her, bringing her into an embrace.

The slight coolness and softness surprisingly gave Chu Zhao a different sense of security.

She felt Si Jing’s dense kisses landing on her hair and ears. As if afraid of breaking her, all the tenderness was contained with restraint.

Desire was wrapped in cold frost, gradually melting with the heat generated by their bodies rubbing against each other.

The woman took her lips. The unfamiliar sensation caused Chu Zhao to heat up. She pressed against the other’s shoulder, trying to pull back.

But then she heard the other’s vulnerable, low-pitched tone, “…Are you uncomfortable, Zhaozhao?”

“Right now, Zhaozhao, do you prefer Yingzhi, or the cold, hard sword behind you?”

The heat flow within Chu Zhao was neither up nor down. She shook her head blankly, unable to answer.

In her unbearable state, she covered the woman’s lips, pecked awkwardly, and pried open her teeth to kiss.

Even though she didn’t even know what she was doing with Si Jing right now.

Si Jing silently raised her lips.

She embraced the little fish’s slender, trembling waist, drawing her closer, imprinting every sound that escaped her into her mind.

She was the preferred one.

After all, they had been together on Yulü Peak for so long, and Guiji was merely a cold object.

But Chu Zhao’s body suddenly tensed up.

She panted heavily in confusion, not knowing what had happened behind her. She cried out in resistance, “Cold, so cold…”

The cold, textured sword hilt had penetrated the warm pond, creating ripples and stirring up the little fish fry to dart all around.

Chu Zhao hooked Si Jing’s neck, her voice broken, “Bad sword, break it… Si Jing, you pro- promised A’Chu…”

Si Jing lowered her face.

Malicious energy surged around her, and an unpleasant feeling of being coveted rose in her heart.

But the girl’s skin before her was flushed with a sunset glow, her appearance truly seductive. To evade the assault from behind, she hid in Si Jing’s arms, like grasping the only straw.

Si Jing coaxed her, taking her lips, kissing her with careful detail.

As much as she wanted to monopolize Zhaozhao, she wanted to erase Guiji.

But a thought that made her tremble rose in her mind.

Guiji was also her, her appearance was no different from hers.

If Guiji treated Zhaozhao so outrageously, would Zhaozhao, as a result, become even more dependent on her?

Chu Zhao’s vision was enveloped by tears. She was pulled in two directions; in front was the tenderness she craved, but behind she was being cruelly mistreated.

She trembled, shaking her head vaguely.

Si Jing, who spoke softly to her, and Guiji, who was outwardly docile but wicked to the core.

She couldn’t remember either of these bad people at all.

Why, why did they bully her?

Overwhelmed by an unfamiliar, sharp heat, her vision went blank. Chu Zhao only felt many little fish fry flowing out.

In a daze, she seemed to glimpse two women whose appearances were identical.

The ominous sword was long gone. One woman leaned by the bed, lightly wiping her finger roots with a dark robe sleeve, her smile alluring, her gaze fixed on Chu Zhao’s face, so thick it could be drawn out like silk.

She called out, “Zhaozhao?”

Meanwhile, Si Jing covered her eyes with her palm, gently comforting, “Zhaozhao, don’t look.”

Darkness enveloped her. Only a sense of fatigue, so extreme she couldn’t even lift a fingertip, reminded her that everything just now was real.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, nor when the cool, soft presence behind her had left.

When she opened her eyes again, her whole body was sore and swollen.

Chu Zhao struggled to sit up, seeing that the light outside the Dream Niche was still the same faint light as before she fell asleep.

The unsettling silence was gone, replaced by the sound of a clan member pushing the door open. Upon seeing her awake, they called out to her, “Elder Zhaozhao,” with joy.

Not long after, Huai Lang rushed in.

Sitting by the bed, she saw the sweat on Chu Zhao’s forehead and anxiously wiped it away with a handkerchief, “Zhaozhao? Did you have a nightmare?”

A warm, sweet syrup was handed to her. It flowed down her throat, soothing her sore throat.

Chu Zhao lowered her eyes in a daze, her eye sockets slightly stinging. She threw herself into Huai Lang’s arms.

“A’Lang,” she called softly, “I, I had a very bad dream.”

The bad demon cultivator chased her all the way from Xizhou and hid on her bed to scare her.

And that ominous sword, skilled at disguising itself, not only took liberties with her but also made her so vulnerable.

It was all like the absurd nightmare she had when she was unconscious.

But…

Chu Zhao looked at her palm, biting her lip in confusion.

A piece of snow-colored fabric embroidered with lotus leaves was cut off and lay quietly in her palm.

Like a snow butterfly with folded wings, resting on a branch.

Outwardly harmless, yet landing in countless blind spots that she might have overlooked, watching her with a gentle gaze.

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