After the Black Moonlight’s "Death Escape" Failed [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 41

Chapter 41: The Coliseum

◎ One Year Later ◎

Jiao Qingyin gave Al no time to react. With a sharp snap, she unfastened the collar, then delivered a swift hand-chop to the back of Al’s neck, knocking her unconscious.

Watching Al pass out with that familiar expression of disbelief, Jiao Qingyin slowly withdrew her hand. She cradled the back of Al’s head to lay her flat on the bed, then looked down and unfurled the collar in her hands.

The collar, which she had personally ordered, was made of high-quality material—smooth and level. Even though Al had sweated profusely, it hadn’t become damp or stifling; it remained cool to the touch. But before circling it back around Al’s neck, Jiao Qingyin’s movements faltered.

…Since she was sending Al out of the fief, and once out of range, Al wouldn’t be detected by the System whether she wore the collar or not, there was no need to keep it. It would only add trouble for Al as she navigated the world alone. On the other hand, the collar symbolized slave status. Al had been very resistant to wearing it; removing it now would surely make her feel better.

With this thought, Jiao Qingyin put the collar away. Although she felt she likely wouldn’t use it again, by some freak impulse, she didn’t want to throw it away. She would keep it as… a souvenir between her and Al.

Facing the unconscious Al, Jiao Qingyin’s expression revealed her true emotions—a look of tenderness mixed with sadness that was worlds apart from her usual demeanor. She sat by the bed, quietly watching Al sleep. The girl’s lips were somewhat swollen; she had bitten them herself last night, and several spots were broken.

Aside from her lips, the marks on the rest of her body were mostly Jiao Qingyin’s doing. They stood out vividly red against her pale skin, making Al look quite pitiful.

Jiao Qingyin’s heart was filled with an unspeakable guilt for sending her away immediately after exhausting her like this. The more she realized how much she liked Al, the heavier this guilt became, making it difficult to breathe.

However, this time, Jiao Qingyin did not flee from her decision because of her inner torment. Simultaneously, she abandoned her previous plan to strip away her personal feelings. She was trying her own way to exclude the “Al” bug from her life, yet she was also leaving a hidden back door for this bug.

If she… no, she couldn’t think further.

Jiao Qingyin suppressed her emotions, bundled all her chaotic thoughts into the depths of her mind, and planned to take Al for a bath. But before that… she leaned down and lightly pressed a kiss onto Al’s lips. It was a mere dragonfly touch, over as soon as it began.

Al’s lips were very soft and wonderful to kiss. It took immense willpower for Jiao Qingyin not to deepen the kiss. This was something Al had begged for many times; lacking the courage to respond while the girl was awake, she could only leave it for now.

The next time she would see Al would be one year later.

When Al woke up, she realized something was wrong almost immediately. Her neck was empty; the collar that had bound her for so long was gone. She raised her hand in disbelief, feeling the spot where the black leather should have been. Nothing. There was still nothing.

Al’s body went rigid. The last words she had heard from Jiao Qingyin echoed in her ears: “Starting tomorrow, you are no longer a slave of the Prince’s Manor.”

The other woman had been serious. She had even taken the collar back—she—she really didn’t want her anymore.

The realization made Al’s eyes turn red instantly. If not for her fierce expression, judging by her eyes alone, she looked like she would burst into tears the next second. She wanted to find Jiao Qingyin immediately, but looking around, the land was flat as a pancake—nothing but grass. Only at the farthest reaches of her vision could she faintly see a city wall.

Al couldn’t tell where she was; clearly, Jiao Qingyin had used a teleportation array to dump her here. The weather was clear, the sky cloudless, and the spring breeze was at a perfect temperature, yet Al felt as if she were in an ice cellar. The pressure around her dropped lower and lower, but just as she hit a breaking point, Al suddenly remembered that the wolf pup’s body should still be in the manor castle—

She quickly closed her eyes and entered a meditative state. But minutes passed, and she did not appear beside Jiao Qingyin as usual. Instead, she only felt a strange, slight itch on the top of her head. Al refused to give up. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself into a deeper level of meditation.

It was useless. After a long time, her consciousness remained firmly in her own body.

One unexpected event after another lit the fuse, blowing Al’s sanity to smithereens. Her face turned dark, and her tail slammed down like a whip, kicking up a flurry of grass. Her tail… tail?

Just then, a strong wind blew. Caught off guard, the wolf ears on top of Al’s head were blown back, revealing their pale pink inner lining.

Al: “…”

She slowly raised her hand, pinched the tips of her ears, and flipped them back. Accompanying the fluffy sensation were the bloodline memories inherited by an adult white wolf after passing her heat. Countless faded images flashed in her mind, making it impossible for Al to deceive herself any longer.

The White Wolf was the king of the wolf tribes, born with the power to command, and legendary as one of the creatures closest to the Creator. Therefore, a demi-human with White Wolf King blood could possess both human and wolf forms simultaneously. During the growth phase, these two forms would manifest as two separate bodies; a hybrid white wolf could switch consciousness between the main body and the sub-body through meditation.

During this period, if one body died, the person’s consciousness would remain forever in the other body and lose the power to switch forms—this was essentially a “second life” granted to hybrid cubs during their weak stage.

Now that Al’s wolf form was an adult, the sub-body of the wolf pup had automatically merged back into her. Consequently, the meditation function changed; it now allowed her to manifest beast features or transform into a wolf on the spot.

Extracting the information she wanted from her ancestral memories, Al’s expression turned even grimmer. Reaching adulthood meant becoming stronger, but for her, it meant losing her only way back to Jiao Qingyin’s side.

Even though the lingering warmth of Jiao Qingyin’s touch remained on her body, she could no longer see her. This realization was driving Al mad. Her lips were tightly pressed, and her emotions had no outlet. To make matters worse, the ears on her head were fluttering in the wind. In her irritation, Al reached up and yanked—

She pulled down a ribbon. Her silver hair, no longer bound, poured down like a waterfall. The bright red color was extremely familiar. Al recognized it at a glance as the one Jiao Qingyin used most often for her ponytail before she cut her hair short. Not only that, it was the same gold-embroidered ribbon Jiao Qingyin had used to bind her hands to make her cooperate with treatment.

As scenes from the past flashed by, Al became strangely calm. She slowly tightened her fingers, gripping the ribbon as if afraid it would slip away, wanting to press it into her very flesh and blood. Once her heart had completely settled, Al gathered her hair and tied it back up with the ribbon. Only then did she finally turn her attention to other things.

For instance… that small backpack that looked like it held nothing. She remembered what Jiao Qingyin had said; this must be the luggage the butler prepared. Al didn’t have high expectations; even if the bag were empty, she could survive on her own.

However, as soon as she flicked open the buckle, she found it entwined with Jiao Qingyin’s elemental power. Immediately, the ordinary-looking bag began to change. It expanded like an inflating tent, its volume multiplying several times in an instant until it was so large that even three or four people with arms outstretched couldn’t encircle it.

Space magic…?

Food, medicine, clothing, weapons… all essential survival supplies were categorized and packed, stuffing every corner to the brim. The scale was spectacular, rivaling a merchant’s storefront. It was obvious who had prepared these things.

It took Al quite a while to recover from her daze. She shifted her gaze stiffly until she found a ring in an inconspicuous corner. A beautiful sapphire shimmered in the sunlight with an intoxicating glow. This was… the ring Jiao Qingyin usually wore, the Ring of the Full Moon she had bought from the Iris Auction.

The other woman… had given it to her…?

The corners of Al’s mouth couldn’t help but curve slightly, but the next second she felt she was being spineless—forgetting the pain just because she was given a sweet. But she was now clean, wearing comfortable and practical clothes, with fully prepared luggage and surrounded by a safe, threat-free plain…

She didn’t look like a stray dog being cast out, but rather like Jiao Qingyin had arranged for her to go on a long journey. The woman had thought of almost everything for her—there was even Al’s favorite pillow in the bag.

She wanted to drive her away, yet feared she wouldn’t live well outside… Her Highness was truly a contrary person.

A complex mix of sweetness and bitterness rose from her heart. Al pressed the buckle to return the bag to its small size, slung it on her back, and then, with a serious, expectant, and somewhat nervous heart, put on the Ring of the Full Moon. The adjustable band fit perfectly on her right ring finger. Al showed her first smile of the day.

But soon, reminded by her still-sore body, she recalled every detail of yesterday. The educational content she had recited countless times was already etched into her soul.

“…One: when you like someone, you can’t just do whatever you want. You must ask for their consent first.”

In a sober state, feeling the weight on her back and looking at the ring on her hand, Al finally understood what Jiao Qingyin wanted to tell her. Her feelings for Jiao Qingyin weren’t wrong, but her way of liking her was. Jiao Qingyin was teaching her the correct way.

She… she seemed to have glimpsed a bit of true affection beneath Jiao Qingyin’s layers of disguise. The other woman really did… like her a little too… right?

Al’s ears turned a faint shade of pink. She managed to keep her face calm, but her tail behind her was wagging like a propeller.

Yet no matter how happy she felt, she wouldn’t take back the words she had said—she would definitely, definitely return everything that happened yesterday to her. And she would return it twofold.

One year later.

Jiao Qingyin stood outside the castle’s back garden—which could now only be called a vegetable garden—and expressionlessly listened to Lottis report the winter harvest.

“…The counter-seasonal planting has been very effective. Combined with the results of previous improvements, this harvest has nearly doubled compared to the last quarter.”

“Very good.”

Receiving the Prince’s praise, even if only a short phrase, made Lottis’s eyes spark.

“Your Highness, about this grain…”

“Transport it to the fief for distribution as usual… This isn’t a famine year, so the ratio given to each household should be reduced. Those who want more must trade money or goods for it.”

Jiao Qingyin issued a series of cold instructions. The one responsible for recording was a blonde young girl following Lottis. Like everyone else, she wore plain cloth clothes suitable for farm work. If Al were here, she would recognize her as Froda, who had been sent to Jiao Qingyin alongside her.

A year later, all the past coquettishness was gone from Froda. Her features were upright, and her aura was efficient, filled with the confidence of a professional. Not just her—everyone in the manor had changed more or less, from the butler and the knights down to the former slaves. Even the spies sent by the Emperor had a brand-new look. Jiao Qingyin had even released the atavistic gray wolf back into the mountains.

Furthermore, it wasn’t just inside the manor. Looking across the entire Prince’s fief, people’s lives were moving in a better direction under Jiao Qingyin’s influence. These subtle changes hadn’t been discovered by the Emperor or the Mage Tower yet because, since last year, their primary attention had been focused on a rising mysterious person in the Royal Capital.

Legend had it that this mysterious person wore a faceless mask, was dressed in white from head to toe, and every time she appeared, someone’s life was taken. Her magic was superb, but she preferred using a military saber when killing. The scabbard of that saber was inlaid with luxurious gems, and the blade was invincible; no one could survive half a second under it.

Killing with a saber caused significant blood loss, yet blood never splashed onto the mysterious person. She remained clean throughout, like a feather or a snowflake. Despite the conspicuous color, no one had ever captured her tracks. As her targets shifted from vagrants to merchants, and from commoners to nobles… eventually, an Earl had his head taken despite being protected by countless guards. The Capital fell into panic because of her alone.

People called this nameless mystery “White.” They feared her power yet couldn’t help but be attracted by her cruel but beautiful figure.

As internal casualties mounted, the Royalists and the Mage Tower had been desperately searching for clues regarding “White.” It wasn’t that no one suspected a connection between “White” and the Prince, but such guesses were rejected by most as soon as they were proposed.

—A giant hole had been smashed into the Prince’s backyard and she hadn’t dared to say a word. How could she have the mettle to train such a death-soldier? Besides, the Emperor had many spies in the manor. If the other had made a move, they would have known immediately.

But days passed, and no matter what methods they used, they couldn’t catch “White.” The Emperor, living in daily fear of being assassinated, gave birth to an idea: he wanted to summon Ottilia Hughes to the Capital.

“White” had specific hunting targets. Regardless of class, she mostly killed people with terrible reputations and heinous records. And in terms of reputation, who could be worse than Ottilia Hughes?

The Emperor was clever for once, wanting to use this alienated sister as a shield to set an ambush and kill “White” during her hunt. Even if they failed to kill “White,” it would be a logical way to get rid of Ottilia. For the Emperor, it was a win-win situation.

Thus, when Jiao Qingyin received an invitation from the Emperor to watch a show at the Capital’s largest Coliseum, Jiao Qingyin, who was preparing for the same thing, fell into silence.

The System happened to be buzzing in her mind: “Host, there are two days left until Main Task 5. Please…”

“Don’t worry. You will definitely see the protagonist at the Coliseum the day after tomorrow.”

A year ago, right after Jiao Qingyin teleported Al away, the System returned from its virus cleanup. Upon its return, it was eager to perform a comprehensive scan of Al, only to learn the protagonist had been dumped outside the city by the Host. Jiao Qingyin had put a lot of effort into fabricating lies that day to prevent the System from investigating further. Now that she was about to reunite with Al, she couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous for her.

Al’s strength far exceeded the original work, and her background was a mystery; there were bound to be some issues. She hoped the results detected by the System wouldn’t be too severe. As long as Headquarters didn’t send someone to “handle” the problem, everything could still be salvaged.

After chatting with the System, Jiao Qingyin looked out the window. It was another long night. Al had been driven away, and the wolf pup had mysteriously vanished. her room was empty, leaving only herself.

Fortunately, in the past six months, news of “White” often came from the Capital. It kept her from losing Al’s trail completely, as she had with the pup. At the very least, she could confirm through these reports that Al was still alive and well.

However… if Al still held a grudge for what happened a year ago and wanted revenge… Jiao Qingyin calmly rolled over, deciding that if the girl really planned to do that, she would pretend the System was the original owner’s soul and use it as a front to block Al.

The Coliseum.

When Jiao Qingyin and the Emperor entered the room at the Coliseum’s highest point through the VIP passage, an intense struggle had just ended below. A combat slave screamed as their flesh was torn by a Cerberus. The sight of flying blood and meat stung the eyes of everyone present, triggering round after round of fierce cheering.

There were many more people here today than on the Prince’s previous visits. But compared to nobles, there were more commoners among the audience, sitting in hemispherical seats and letting out roars as excited as wild beasts. Outside the Coliseum, they were the weak side, but here, they could stand high above and treat other’s lives as a game.

Jiao Qingyin frowned slightly, gathered her cloak, and looked at the Emperor, who was pretentiously sitting on the high throne with the help of an attendant.

Catching Jiao Qingyin’s gaze, the Emperor gave a hypocritical smile. “Oli, I remember you used to come for shows every once in a while. Why haven’t I seen you this past year?”

Jiao Qingyin stared at her. Her face was calm, yet it made the Emperor feel strangely cold. She held her ground without shrinking back, only to hear the woman across from her say faintly:

“Your Majesty, your voice sounds a bit weak. You don’t look like someone who will live a long life.”

“Wha—” The Emperor was dumbfounded, failing to react to what Jiao Qingyin had said. By the time she recovered and was about to flare up, Jiao Qingyin had already looked away toward the people in the Coliseum.

The Cerberus’s teeth seemed to have been pulled; its movements in tearing the slave were exceptionally vicious but couldn’t be fatal. The blood-soaked slave had completely lost the ability to resist, with white bones visible at the shoulder blades.

Jiao Qingyin hadn’t seen such a scene in a long time. Everything around her was improving, making her almost forget the nauseating side of this world.

Following her gaze, the Emperor also looked at the slave in the arena. The blood stimulated her senses, making her burst into a laugh.

“This is the kind of show that’s interesting! Someone, give a reward!”

A Coliseum attendant immediately stepped forward, kneeling flatteringly to kowtow before relaying the news of the Emperor’s reward.

“A reward from His Majesty!”

She wanted to reward the Cerberus with its mouth full of meat.

A potion bottle of an ominous color was thrown from above, drenching the Cerberus’s heads. The audience seats immediately erupted in a wave of thunderous shouting.

The mutation happened in the next second. The Cerberus’s body suddenly expanded. It let out several strange roars, its teeth rapidly becoming sharper and longer. Then, the middle head aimed at the slave’s head and bit down—

Jiao Qingyin closed her eyes briefly. If the person who transmigrated here hadn’t been her, would the one lying in the Coliseum being gnawed by a Cerberus be Al?

When she opened her eyes again, she noticed a bulge on the side of the Cerberus’s thick neck. It seemed to feel no abnormality; its six eyes were so bloodshot they looked ready to burst as it continued to frantically devour the remaining flesh and bone of the slave.

Soon, its fourth head grew out. The pointed snout of a canine hybridized with the broad forehead of a human—ugly and terrifying. The cheering and shouting at the scene reached a climax, nearly flipping the entire Coliseum.

The instigator beside Jiao Qingyin laughed happily. “Yes, yes—this is exactly why it’s fun!”

The roots of the Empire are rotten to the core, Jiao Qingyin thought. Even if she drew her saber now, cut off the Emperor’s head, and took the throne herself, she couldn’t change that. Unless… the entire Empire was overturned. Since the roots were rotten, they should be cut off and thrown away entirely, then new seeds sown to wait for them to grow into a tree.

But there was only a year and a few days left until her death-escape. Time was too short; seeds would be trampled before they even sprouted.

Once she had laughed enough, the Emperor realized she was being ignored by Jiao Qingyin again. Her long-accumulated resentment was almost palpable, but at the thought of today’s plan, a hint of distorted pleasure appeared on her face. She wanted to see how much longer the other woman could keep up this act.

She had spread the news across the Capital that the Prince was coming to watch the beast show. As long as “White” learned of this, she would surely come. The Emperor was protected by experts disguised as attendants, while Ottilia hadn’t brought a single person. She already envisioned the scene of the other’s head hitting the ground.

At this thought, the smile on the Emperor’s lips grew exaggerated. Her excitement made her unable to resist speaking even though she was being snubbed:

“Oli, do you know? A’n assassin called ‘White’ has appeared in the Capital recently…”

“Ah—”

More screams came from the direction of the arena. The Emperor, used to it, didn’t spare a glance, still staring at Jiao Qingyin’s profile with malicious eyes. “I heard she’s taken a liking to killing nobles lately. She likes using a military saber when she kills. That saber…”

With a clank, Jiao Qingyin unclipped the saber from her waist and placed it on the table between them.

“Is it a saber like this?”

The Emperor froze. She slowly lowered her head to look at the saber on the table, its scabbard inlaid with luxurious jewels. The blade was about a arm-and-a-half long, with a smooth shape and a heavy hilt. Although encased in a jeweled sheath, it still gave off a faint aura of slaughter.

This was one of the weapons Jiao Qingyin found most comfortable to use in her past life. After coming to this world, she had someone forge two identical blades. Currently, one was before the Emperor’s eyes, while the other… was in the Coliseum.

Dressed in pure white, Al stood straight. Amidst the screams of horror or ecstasy from countless spectators, she swung her saber at the four-headed dog pouncing toward her.

The crowd only saw her make a single hand-raising motion, but the flash of the blade flickered four times. In mid-air, the four-headed dog seemed to have its pause button pressed. The next second, its four heads hit the ground simultaneously, and a torrent of blood erupted.

The blood that should have splashed onto Al seemed to hit a transparent barrier, completely avoiding her. Al flicked the blood droplets from the blade, looked down at the half-human, half-beast head that had rolled to her feet.

“Thank you.” It… no, he said.

Then he showed a somewhat peaceful expression as the forcibly merged genetic traits gradually faded. Finally, he closed his eyes as a human.

Al watched this scene in silence, then tilted her head up to look toward the highest point of the Coliseum. The person she had missed for an entire year was there. She could feel it.