Chapter Nine: The Wicked Young Lady

Jinyue Tianchen was the quintessential enclave for the wealthy. Unlike the fast-paced lives of ordinary people, life here always unfolded at a leisurely, unhurried rhythm. Broad, immaculate roads stretched beneath canopies of lush trees, with the air perfumed by blossoms; it was not uncommon to see people strolling amidst this tranquility and elegance, savoring the serenity.

Qiao Sen had once been one of them.

He delighted in wandering the tree-lined avenues of Jinyue Tianchen, breathing in the crisp air, relishing the gentle caress of the breeze. Yet recently, he could no longer indulge in such leisure.

He had fallen ill with a strange and inexplicable disease.

“I won’t take it! I won’t touch the medicine you prescribe! Cough, cough...” Qiao Sen’s voice was hoarse with anger. As his words ended, he had to cover his mouth, and after a fierce bout of coughing, his palm was stained with a shocking splash of fresh blood.

His fury only grew. “Useless fools! How dare you call yourselves renowned doctors? You can’t even diagnose what’s wrong with me! I’ve taken these medicines for a month, and they’ve done nothing!”

His voice rose steadily, his agitation so great that he nearly sat upright in bed. The doctor and nurses at his bedside kept their heads bowed, enduring his tirade in silence, not daring to retort.

“That’s enough. You may all go,” a gentle voice sounded from the doorway, shattering the tension within the room.

A young woman entered, carrying a bowl of freshly brewed medicine. Her features were finely sculpted, almost like a Venus carved in marble. She wore a simple, pure white slip dress, yet her curvaceous figure made it strikingly alluring. Her waist was slender, her hips full.

Her eyes were a brilliant emerald green, clear and bright, as if a thriving forest dwelled within, tempting one to lose oneself inside.

“Father, please don’t blame Dr. Li and the others. This is a sickness no one has ever seen before. Please, just take your medicine—it will at least ease some of your symptoms.”

Her voice was soft and warm, carrying a hint of gentle reassurance.

“Tia...” Qiao Sen’s tone softened somewhat. He waved his hand, signaling the others to withdraw.

The doctor and nurses, visibly relieved, quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.

“My illness is strange and inexplicable; after all this time, it hasn’t improved and likely never will,” Qiao Sen said wearily, tugging at his collar. His face was as pale as paper, his eyes sunken, his entire being haggard and worn. “Those businesses I ran in secret—it’s time I handed them to you, let you manage them for me.”

“Father, let’s not discuss this now. Please drink your medicine first.” Tia gently interrupted, carefully scooping up a spoonful, blowing on it, and bringing it to his lips.

Looking at his near-perfect daughter, Qiao Sen’s gaunt face was touched by a fleeting trace of emotion. If there was anything he could be proud of in this life, it was having raised such a clever, beautiful, and sensible daughter. From this perspective, the old saying that evil deeds never go unpunished seemed a laughable lie.

He parted his lips, allowing the warm liquid to flow down his throat.

A faint smile graced Tia’s face, though deep within her eyes an icy chill flickered, almost imperceptible.

Suddenly, a muffled thud disturbed the air, and without warning, a tall figure appeared in the room.

“Pfft!” Qiao Sen, startled, spat out the medicine he had yet to swallow. It sprayed across the white bedsheet, leaving a brownish stain.

His eyes widened in shock. “Who—who are you?!”

Tia turned sharply.

Standing beside the painting near the wall was a man neither had seen before. He was strikingly handsome, his brow exuding an air of martial strength.

“Qiao Sen Pendragon,” the newcomer said calmly. “Surely you haven’t forgotten orchestrating the trafficking operations through your subordinates?”

Qiao Sen’s face went deathly pale, his lips trembling as he replied, “This has nothing to do with my daughter—she knows nothing of my dealings in the shadows...”

“Oh? It seems you don’t know your daughter at all, or you wouldn’t have been poisoned so easily.”

“What?!” Qiao Sen jerked his head up, the resignation on his face replaced by utter shock.

Feigning surprise, Tia said, “Poison? What are you talking about?”

“You know very well what I’m saying. There’s poison in that bowl of medicine.” The man’s voice remained perfectly even, yet it crashed through the bedroom like thunder.

Qiao Sen’s hands trembled even harder as he stared at the intruder, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You’re lying! Tia would never poison me!”

Tia did not defend herself. Instead, she fixed a cold gaze on the stranger. “Who are you?”

“Tia, tell him he’s lying! Tell him none of this is true!” Qiao Sen’s voice was almost a plea.

“Shut up, old man!” Tia’s demeanor shifted suddenly, her voice turning sharp and icy.

She hurled the still-warm bowl of medicine into Qiao Sen’s face. The liquid trickled down his cheeks, dripping onto the bed.

Qiao Sen was stunned, as if struck by lightning—he sat frozen in place.

Tia’s face twisted with contempt. Her voice was frigid: “Back then, you indulged your lust everywhere, and let your mistress poison my mother. Did you think I was too young to remember?”

Her deep green eyes became as cold and unfathomable as the ocean’s depths, filling Qiao Sen with a suffocating, inescapable despair.

His lips quivered as he tried to defend himself. “It’s not—it’s not what you think. I truly love you...”

Tia’s expression was blank.

She regarded the man before her with nothing but hatred and disdain. The only reason she hadn’t acted sooner was that she wished to seamlessly inherit his wealth and status when she finally ended him.

“All these years, I’ve carefully played the part of the obedient, well-bred heiress, just so no one would suspect it was I who ended you.”

Qiao Sen’s face turned ashen, as though he were seeing his daughter for the first time—or perhaps, facing a stranger altogether.

After a moment, he finally reacted, roaring, “You unfilial wretch, plotting patricide! You’re not my daughter! Aren’t you from the Six Gates? Arrest her! She’s involved in everything!”

Naturally, Bai Yujing did not believe him.

He could read the aura of a person’s soul, discerning good from evil and truth from falsehood. “Curse: Wave Three.”

A surge of energy shot from his fingertip, striking Qiao Sen square in the chest.

The force was so great that Qiao Sen’s heart stopped instantly. His body froze, then collapsed onto the bed, his eyes still burning with anger and disbelief.

Tia tossed the empty bowl aside, her expression wary. “You’re not from the Six Gates.”

“I am Bai Yujing, master of the Azure Cloud Sect,” he replied simply, before continuing in his calm tone, “You possess exceptional talent. Without guidance, you may stray down a dark path. Why not join my sect?”

Tia pressed her lips together.

To be caught the very first time she’d done something truly wicked soured her mood considerably.

After a brief silence, she answered, “Very well, but I must first see to the old man’s funeral.”

“To prevent you from making any rash decisions, I’ll place a restriction on you.” In a flash, Bai Yujing appeared behind her, tapping the back of her neck. A ring of invisible spiritual energy locked around her.

“In three days, you’d best find me and have it removed.” With that, he vanished from the bedroom.