Rejected Beauty Practices the Villain Play
Chapter 207: I’m in Pain

Chapter 207: Chapter 207: I’m in Pain

"You..." The Beiman pointed at Xie Jue, his companion’s corpse hanging on the treetop while he himself was hammered to death on the ground, "Cunning..."

In his muddled vision, all he could see was Xie Jue’s cold and piercing features, like frost.

The Beiman died with eyes wide open!

He refused to believe that the seemingly frail Xie Jue could so easily slay all three of them. Xie Jue had always excelled in the art of Qimen Dunjia and ingenious mechanics; he used himself as bait to catch three big fish.

After returning his Longsword to its sheath, Xie Jue was just about to search for Fang Chuning when he suddenly heard the sound of arrows slicing through the mountain wind. He swiftly dodged, turned around, and glimpsed two figures before a wave of yellow mist engulfed him. He couldn’t evade in time and caught the scent of something metallic and sweet. Just as he held his breath, the yellow mist rushed into his eyes. His eyes burned, turned blood red, and soon dizziness overwhelmed him, plunging his vision into darkness.

Poison!

The poison scattered through the air, carried by the mountain wind; there was no way to avoid it.

The Second Young Master’s usually composed stride faltered. His mind was in turmoil as he raised his sword defensively, with the sound of footsteps in the forest growing louder.

Xie Jue retreated step by step, his blindness driving him increasingly anxious.

"Strategic genius, Second Young Master, did you ever predict your own death in Xiyanshan?" A hoarse and sinister voice drifted from afar, dripping with vicious intent.

The voice was eerily similar to one he’d heard just moments ago while on the treetop— a mimicry, somewhat familiar yet unsettling.

"Who are you?" Xie Jue asked coldly. "If you’re here to kill me, why not report your name?"

"Second Young Master, go ask King Yan!" The assailant’s blade gleamed under the dense forest canopy, advancing step by step. Xie Jue could only feel an overwhelming aura of murderous intent approaching.

As the blade neared, a sharp whistle pierced the air. Moments later, Fang Chuning leaped out from the forest. A rope shot from his sleeve, coiling around Xie Jue’s waist. With a flick of his wrist, the rope drew Xie Jue toward him, and Fang Chuning grabbed him firmly, holding him securely in his arms.

The faint scent of pine clinging to Xie Jue’s cold presence nearly masked the heavy smell of blood. Fang Chuning turned his gaze to Xie Jue’s eyes, and his pupils constricted slightly.

Xie Jue’s eyes were blood-red, uncontrollable tears of blood tracing down his face, pale and cold as frost. His delicate features looked as fragile as precious porcelain, with an eerie sense of something irreparably broken.

Fang Chuning’s chest tightened violently, and his eyes reddened with grief.

Ting Feng’s eyes...

Fang Chuning erupted with fury, his sword radiating energy that sliced through the forest’s gloom, forcing the masked assailant into retreat.

Xie Jue, blinded, relied on his heightened sense of smell, sniffing the overwhelming scent of blood in the air. His heart sank— was Fang Chuning injured?

Fang Chuning, like a blood-soaked Asura, had his robes and hem stained with vast swaths of red. Even in Xie Jue’s direst moments, he remained the sharpest weapon.

From childhood to adulthood, he had always been Xie Jue’s blade, striking wherever pointed!

"You want him dead? Did you ask for my permission first?" Fang Chuning’s blood-smeared face carried a dangerous charm as he stepped past Xie Jue, charging toward the masked attackers.

They hurt Ting Feng’s eyes. He wanted their lives!

"Fang Chuning, you’re like a haunting shadow that won’t leave!" A cold voice seethed with hatred as the masked man’s eyes radiated malice. "Tonight, I’ll send you both to Huangquan as companions!"

"And you think you’re worthy?" Fang Chuning retorted as his words fell, his Longsword already striking.

Blade and sword collided, sparks flew, and Xie Jue, sightless, could only hear the chillingly sharp sounds of metal clashing, his worry for Fang Chuning intensifying.

The thick scent of blood— where had Fang Chuning been hurt?

The two masked figures began showing signs of fatigue under Fang Chuning’s rage-driven sword strikes. Even though Dugu Jing had exhausted some of his strength earlier, killing the masked attackers was still a straightforward task. The sheer killing intent forced the pair into a miserable state, and in a moment of mismatched movements, Fang Chuning’s sword pierced through the masked man’s shoulder blade.

The Longsword ran through his shoulder, and Xie Jue heard a scream, followed by a stormy murderous aura emanating from Fang Chuning’s fierce eyes.

Fang Chuning stared into the pair of hateful eyes inches away. "Return to him what you took!"

One of the masked men panicked as Fang Chuning’s two fingers extended toward his eyes. At that critical moment, eight more masked figures suddenly emerged into the forest without a sound. Drawing their blades, they charged at Fang Chuning and Xie Jue. Fang Chuning withdrew his sword from the man’s flesh, blood spurting, and kicked him away, spinning back to shield Xie Jue.

The sound of galloping hooves echoed closer, breaking through the brambles. Xie Jue commanded coldly, "Don’t linger in the fight!"

Fang Chuning turned his head to see his warhorse, the Snow-treading Black Flame, rushing toward them. He had whistled earlier to summon his steed. Fang Chuning lifted Xie Jue and vaulted onto the horse, riding full speed toward the northwest.

The masked figures pursued relentlessly from behind. Xie Jue’s eyes, burning and bloodied, struggled to remain open as the biting wind lashed against his face. All he could hear was Fang Chuning’s labored breathing— hot and rushed— close beside his ear.

"Chuning..." Xie Jue called his name softly.

Fang Chuning detected a note of tenderness in his tone. His arm tightened across Xie Jue’s waist, locking him in his embrace, his voice almost biting as he asked near his ear, "Does it hurt?"

Ting Feng, do your eyes hurt?

Yes!

The agony was as if his heart had been gouged out, yet Xie Jue, accustomed to suppressing his pain, never uttered a word of complaint. Even as a child, humiliated and struck until his head bled, he had calmly wiped away the blood.

It was as if he was born not knowing the meaning of pain— but now, tears of blood dripped from his eyes onto his collarbone, staining his clothes red.

The warmth of Fang Chuning’s chest pressed against his back, iron arms gripping his waist, mingling the scent of blood and pine in an aroma of anguish. Fang Chuning adjusted his posture, drawing him even closer, his cheek brushing against Xie Jue’s icy profile, a blend of sorrow and tenderness spiked with pain. "I hurt."

In the midst of the stinging pain, Xie Jue vaguely heard the voice by his ear— it carried a tone of grievance mixed with rage. The person behind him seemed utterly terrified. Xie Jue could feel Fang Chuning trembling as his hand covered Fang Chuning’s wrist lightly, as if trying to soothe his agitation.

Battle cries and hoofbeats tore through the forest. Arrows imbued with murderous intent shot from behind. Fang Chuning pressed Xie Jue down against the horse, narrowly dodging the first volley of arrows. With a backward swing of his sword, he deflected the second wave.

Xie Jue heard Fang Chuning grunt in pain, and his heart raced wildly. Fang Chuning had been struck— an arrow embedded in his shoulder. He reached back to pull it out, blood gushing, yet he seemed utterly indifferent.

Xie Jue pried Fang Chuning’s hand away, grabbed the reins, and twisted his body forcefully. From sitting in Fang Chuning’s arms, he maneuvered onto his back, shielding Fang Chuning from the next hail of arrows.

Even if it meant death, he would protect him.

"Ting Feng!" Fang Chuning shouted sternly. Xie Jue pressed against his shoulder and back tightly, the intense scent of blood filling his nostrils as his hand came away drenched.

The masked attackers saw Xie Jue seemingly throwing himself into harm’s way behind Fang Chuning. Fueled by frenzied battle intent, they fired a flurry of hidden bolts at Xie Jue. Yet, in the instant they released their arrows, Xie Jue launched darts from his sleeve with devastating precision. Fang Chuning clutched him tightly, rolling them both into the underbrush, followed by the sound of anguished screams from behind.

The sun slanted westward as Xie Xun paced irritably along the Northwest Mountain Ridge. Dressed in fitted combat gear with narrow sleeves and a cinched waist, he stood tall and striking.