The Vicious Beauty Faked His Death Three Times [Transmigration] - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Murderous Intent

The sun shone brightly over the bustling streets. Many people stopped in their tracks to gather at the entrance of the Huichun Clinic, blocking the normally wide road until it was impassable.

Looking at the layers upon layers of people surrounding them, Su Nianhuan’s face instantly flushed with a mix of anger and shame; she found it impossible to speak.

“Miss Su, are you planning to go back on your word?” Shen Miaomiao watched the silent Su Nianhuan and took two steps forward, turning to face the huddled passersby. “Yesterday, everyone should have seen and heard how Miss Su and Young Master Ling gave us their promise.”

“If we won, you would apologize to us in front of everyone outside the Huichun Clinic. Now, Young Master Ling is heavily injured and likely cannot come here for a while. It isn’t too much to ask for you, who shares such a deep bond with him, to apologize in his stead, is it, Miss Su?”

At this, Shen Miaomiao squinted at Su Nianhuan. She feigned surprise, her tone rising slightly, her watery eyes glinting with cunning. “Unless… Miss Su intends to renege?”

The moment the words fell, the surrounding crowd couldn’t restrain themselves. Adding to the dissatisfaction brewed back at the Sihai Pavilion, they all pointed their fingers at Su Nianhuan. Their words were like sharp blades stabbing into her, causing her face to turn deathly pale in an instant.

“A-Miao.” Ye Chaoyan looked at the agitated crowd, stepped forward to pull Shen Miaomiao back, and shook her head.

Seeing this, Shen Miaomiao pouted but stopped inciting the crowd’s emotions further.

“Miss Su, if you please.”

Lin Qinghan looked down at Su Nianhuan, showing not a hint of “tender pity for the fair sex.”

Hearing this, Su Nianhuan looked at Lin Qinghan, her gaze becoming complex for a moment. Then, she lowered her eyes, her clenched hands hanging at her sides. With great reluctance, she bowed toward Lin Qinghan.

“What happened yesterday was the fault of Young Master Ling and myself. Here, I apologize to you on his behalf. I am sorry!”

Looking at Su Nianhuan’s bent figure, Lin Qinghan said nothing. He then leaned down slightly toward Ling Yanhe. “What does the Young Master think?”

Through that ghost mask, Lin Qinghan couldn’t see Ling Yanhe’s expression, but seeing the way he turned his head away, he could roughly guess the man’s mood wasn’t great.

“Since Miss Su has apologized, let the past drift away with the wind; it shall no longer be counted,” Lin Qinghan said.

Ultimately, the grudge was between Ling Yuan and Ling Yanhe; Su Nianhuan was merely collateral cannon fodder, and Lin Qinghan didn’t intend to make things too hard for her. After dropping those words, he pushed Ling Yanhe out through the crowd.

Shen Miaomiao gave Su Nianhuan a cold snort before following after Ye Chaoyan.

Moments later, only Su Nianhuan remained outside the Huichun Clinic, her eyes bloodshot. She stared fixedly at the backs of the four departing figures, her eyes filled with an irrepressible ruthlessness.

“If you ask me, that was too easy on her. Someone like that should have been made to stand in front of the clinic for hours to properly humble her.”

Shen Miaomiao pushed open the main gate with dissatisfaction, the creaking of the wood mixing with her grumbling tone to fill the courtyard.

Ye Chaoyan gave her a disapproving look, and Shen Miaomiao whimpered, ducking behind Lin Qinghan to avoid Ye Chaoyan’s earnest lecture. Lin Qinghan, caught between the two, felt quite helpless.

“Come to my room.”

As the icy voice fell, Shen Miaomiao instinctively let go of Lin Qinghan’s sleeve.

Lin Qinghan’s gaze darkened as he watched Ling Yanhe head back to his room alone after dropping those words. He offered a smile to Shen Miaomiao and Ye Chaoyan before following the man inside. As for Shen Miaomiao, she naturally couldn’t escape a scolding from Ye Chaoyan.

“A-Yan, I was wrong! I won’t do it next time! Can you lecture me for a little less time?”

Lin Qinghan heard Shen Miaomiao’s cries for mercy from outside as he shut the door.

“What does the Young Master require of me?”

Lin Qinghan turned toward Ling Yanhe, the faint smile on his face already retracted.

Ling Yanhe didn’t respond. He raised his hand and took off the mask.

In an instant, the Black Bone Fan materialized in Lin Qinghan’s hand. Thin wires collided with the blades of the fan, sending tiny sparks falling through the air.

What is this man’s problem?!

Lin Qinghan raised his arm to block the overwhelming canopy of wires, his brow furrowed tightly. The moment he touched the wires, piercing screams rang out. A bone-chilling cold spread from the fan to his hand, tunneling into his body. Lin Qinghan’s eyes darkened instantly.

The man had actually devoured the ghosts from the Ghost Ring.

But this wasn’t enough to stop Lin Qinghan. He looked up to meet Ling Yanhe’s pitch-black, emotionless eyes. His wrist turned, gripping the fan. Almost at the same moment the wires pressed him down, forcing him into a half-kneeling position on the floor, the Black Bone Fan was pressed against Ling Yanhe’s throat.

The wires stopped moving.

Lin Qinghan looked up at Ling Yanhe. The man’s black eyes were like a frozen pond, causing an unnamed fire to ignite in Lin Qinghan’s heart. He tightened his grip on the fan, drawing a thin trail of blood across the other’s neck.

The slight sting finally prompted another movement from Ling Yanhe. The corners of his mouth hooked into a mocking smile, his expression becoming even more cold and detached. The fingers resting on the armrest hooked slightly.

Compared to tearing off Lin Qinghan’s hypocritical mask, preventing betrayal carried more weight in his heart. No one knew if this dog would turn and bite him again. Therefore, taming the vicious dog was the master’s duty. He would make Lin Qinghan realize how severe the price of betrayal would be.

Ling Yanhe’s gaze turned cold as his fingers suddenly retracted.

In an instant, Lin Qinghan’s pupils shrank. An unbearable, agonizing pain spread from his heart to his entire body, draining all his strength in a single second.

The Black Bone Fan fell from his hand, only to be caught by Ling Yanhe. He looked coldly at the suffering Lin Qinghan at his feet, his fingers rubbing together until his own tips turned white from the force.

Lin Qinghan knelt on the floor, biting his lower lip so hard he didn’t allow a single groan of pain to escape. His damp hair matted messily against his face, and cold sweat slid down his cheeks and into his clothes. Soon, the metallic taste of blood spread in his mouth.

But this didn’t alleviate the heart-eating pain. The agony devoured his sanity, blinding and deafening him until everything was dark and silent. His five senses were stripped away, leaving him only to endure wave after wave of pain that crashed over him like a flood, reminding him he was still alive.

Lin Qinghan curled his body, kneeling pathetically at Ling Yanhe’s feet. His consciousness gradually blurred, his thoughts breaking into fragments. He reached out into the infinite darkness, trying to grasp something, trying to understand the situation, but the pain—like a blade piercing through his chest, had left his spirit broken and battered.

He had never felt such agony. The endless torture felt like ten thousand arrows piercing his heart over and over again, tempting him to end his own life.

Just as his teeth were about to bite through his tongue, his jaw was gripped violently. The man forced him to release the pressure, and blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.

The prolonged pain had long since dulled Lin Qinghan’s perception. When the heart-eating pain finally stopped, he remained in a daze for a moment. It was only when someone roughly used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his mouth that his thoughts slowly gathered. The darkness before his eyes dissipated bit by bit, and his five senses slowly recovered.

When Lin Qinghan’s eyes could see again, he once more met those icy eyes, which seemed to hold a lingering spark of rage.

It took Lin Qinghan a long time to recover his senses and recognize the person before him as Ling Yanhe—the protagonist of a book, a book he was currently in, enduring this man’s torture.

Ling Yanhe, seeing the person beneath him regain clarity, gave him no chance to rest. He manipulated the wires to bind Lin Qinghan’s right hand, lifting it before him.

When the Black Bone Fan sliced his wrist, Lin Qinghan felt no pain. The previous torture had completely scrambled his sensory system. It was only when a warm liquid slid down his hand that he realized his wrist had been slit.

In the next second, Lin Qinghan felt cold fingertips roughly brush over the open wound, then rub the blood forcefully against his neck. The heavy scent of iron made him furrow his brows instinctively. He was a man who loved cleanliness and tried to pull away, but before he could move, his jaw was clamped in a vice-like grip, rendering him immobile.

“Too foul-smelling.”

The sinister voice fell into Lin Qinghan’s ear, stringing together the scattered beads of his thoughts one by one.

“System, how long did he torture me?” Lin Qinghan asked in his mind.

“Converted to your world’s time, it was two hours.”

Hearing this, if he hadn’t been too drained to move, Lin Qinghan would have laughed out loud. The man had tortured him for two hours simply because of the nearly undetectable scent Qi Baicang had left on him.

Madman.

Lin Qinghan looked at Ling Yanhe. Seeing those gloomy eyes, the fire in his heart burned hotter and hotter, tinging the corners of his own eyes with a faint red.

Ling Yanhe looked at the irrepressible rage in the eyes of the man below him. He raised his hand and smeared blood across those beautiful eyes. The blood left a vibrant crimson trail at the corners of Lin Qinghan’s eyes, adding a touch of demonic allure to his jade-like face, making him look like a vengeful ghost beauty who ate flesh and drank blood.

“I will kill you.”

The rage almost burned Lin Qinghan’s bones to ash, devouring his reason. Yet at this moment, he calmly locked eyes with Ling Yanhe, directly venting the desire screaming in his heart.

Hearing this, Ling Yanhe’s eyes—usually like stagnant pond water, seemed to reflect the other’s fire, a spark of brightness burning within them. He leaned down, picked up the blood-stained handkerchief from the armrest, and gently wiped the blood off Lin Qinghan.

The two were so close their noses almost touched. Their warm breath mingled with the thick scent of blood. To an outsider, they would look like lovers in a deathly embrace, tenderly entwined while whispering of their intense love for one another.

“Good. I’ll be waiting for that day.”

Ling Yanhe’s somewhat lazy voice drifted over, the deliberately drawn-out tone adding fuel to the fire in Lin Qinghan’s heart. He looked up at the smile on the man’s face and the cold yet excited emotion in his eyes.

The previous plan of navigating the plot through detours to finish the mission was completely incinerated in Lin Qinghan’s heart. The throbbing in his wrist scraped against his nerves, staining his eyes with an unprecedented ruthlessness.

He had only one thought in his mind: he was going to kill Ling Yanhe.

For every second of those two hours of heart-piercing pain, he would return it to Ling Yanhe twofold, tenfold—even a hundredfold.

Current Trust Level: -5.

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