Chapter 19: You Don't Have The Final Say
The last shred of hope shattered.
Rong Zhao stared blankly at the ceiling, his arms limply wrapped around Ming Chen's neck, as if he had lost his soul.
He felt a profound pain, not in his body, but a hollow ache in his heart, as if a void had been gouged out of it.
Rong Zhao didn't know what was wrong with him. The combination of his shattered immortal essence, the lightning injuries, and the constant torment he was enduring left him utterly exhausted.
He passed out.
Even in his unconsciousness, he couldn't find peace.
He didn't know how much time had passed when Rong Zhao vaguely heard someone softly whisper "Venerable One" in his ear.
He opened his eyes groggily, and immediately let out a soft, involuntary moan as he was thrust from below, a sound that was hoarse yet tender, laced with an intoxicating, seductive allure.
Ming Chen froze at the sound, then sealed Rong Zhao's lips with a kiss, a kiss so fierce and heavy as if he wanted to crush him in his arms.
...
The sky outside seemed to have darkened.
Rong Zhao was so exhausted that he couldn't even lift his arms. He lay in Ming Chen's arms with his eyes half-closed. After a moment, he mustered a little strength and pushed him away.
"Get lost."
Rong Zhao's voice was cold and hoarse, with a faint, barely perceptible nasal twang that made it sound strangely soft.
To Ming Chen, it sounded no different from seduction.
He chuckled, playing with Rong Zhao's hair with a rather pleasant mood, his expression thoughtful: "The Venerable One cultivates the Path of Ruthlessness, truly ruthless. Even in a moment like this, you can still utter the words 'get lost'. Your Dao heart is so steadfast, it's probably unbreakable."
After saying that, he released the strands of hair, reached out and pressed his hand on Rong Zhao's Adam's apple, gently rubbing it.
Rong Zhao frowned.
“You…” He barely managed to utter a word when he nearly bit his tongue, his voice cracked and wavered, “…Get out.”
“You don’t have the final say now.” Ming Chen didn’t care about his harsh words at all. He supported Rong Zhao’s waist and gently laid him down on the bed. Then he leaned down and pressed his forehead against Rong Zhao’s, his voice so gentle it seemed to drip with affection, “For Venerable One to take a mortal as Said Companion and have never experienced true dual cultivation, you must have suffered quite a grievance.”
Such sudden movement made Rong Zhao uncomfortable, he struggled only to be easily subdued.
Ming Chen seemed gentle in every way, yet he didn’t allow for any refusal and didn’t care much about him. It was as if this gentleness was just an innate upbringing, merely a cruel facade.
Completely different from Meng Zhifan.
“Don’t mention him…” Rong Zhao couldn’t resist and could only grip the blankets tightly, gritting his teeth to endure the wave of discomfort as he panted softly, “You… you are not him.”
Ming Chen didn’t refute this.
Mortal or High Immortal, in the heart bound by the path of ruthlessness, there was probably no difference, so why waste words to argue?
He simply kissed Rong Zhao's eyes and lips, personally guiding him as he had done back in Cuiyu Residence: "So-called dual cultivation is not just about physical pleasure, it involves the primordial spirit as well... like this."
...
... ...
Rong Zhao's eyes widened suddenly.
The barrier of his spiritual consciousness had been breached.
His primordial spirit was like a drop of water, teetered on the verge of collapse. After a few futile struggles, it finally fell into the vast and boundless primordial spirit, swallowed up, squeezed, and crushed...
Ripples spread outward, trembling and swaying as a monstrous wave suddenly surged within his spiritual platform.
Rong Zhao's mind went completely blank.
He vaguely heard a sobbing sound in his ears, so helpless, so weak, as if it would stop breathing at any moment.
After a long time, Rong Zhao realized that it was himself crying.
Ming Chen wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes, silenced his sobs with a kiss, murmuring against his lips, "I thought the Venerable One was heartless and didn't know what tears were."
Rong Zhao couldn't hear anything, trembling like a fallen leaf.
He completely unraveled amidst the unprecedented terrifying pleasure.
His consciousness was easily crushed into dust while his body became a prison, trapping him in this inescapable affair, from day to night, from sunrise to sunset. —
…..
A gentle breeze drifted in through the half-open window, stirring the sheer gauze curtains.
Rong Zhao slowly opened his eyes.
His wounds seemed to have been simply treated, and a garment had been thoughtfully placed over him, concealing the unsightly marks that covered his frame.
Rong Zhao turned over and slowly got up. The robe draped loosely over his shoulder. His long, Raven black hair falling down, veiling his face and obscuring his expression.
He looked down at his hands.
…A crippled immortal.
The rules revealed by the Heavenly Dao mentioned this type of person. Their Dantian was shattered, leaving only a small amount of immortal essence. They possessed a lifespan of only two hundred years and no longer the subject to trials of tribulations.
Unless they coulf re-attain the Dao and regained the Heavenly Dao's approval.
However, such things rarely happen; a crippled immortal who managed to re-attain the Dao appeared perhaps once in a millennium.
Rong Zhao frowned, not understanding why Ming Chen didn't just kill him directly.
He didn't feel that being forced into dual cultivation was a great humiliation, nor did he feel any shame or pain, and he certainly had no intention of seeking death over it.
For him, becoming a crippled immortal was the most unbearable fate of all.
However, yesterday had indeed been grueling, perhaps it counted as a form of torture in its own right.
Rong Zhao carefully assessed his situation. After a moment of reflection, he concluded that things hadn't reached the worst point yet.
Since he was still alive, he still had a chance to re-attain the Dao. And since Ming Chen dared to keep him by his side for amusement and torment, then one day he would find a suitable opportunity— to skin and dismember this High Immortal who had deceived him and feed the remains to the dogs.
After roughly thinking about what to do, Rong Zhao got dressed, carefully trying not to aggravate the injury in that area, then climbed out of bed, only to discover that his Rao Zhi Rou was missing.
There was a spiritual bond between a natal weapon and its master.
Without the weapon, he felt deeply insecure.
After thinking for a while, Rong Zhao decided to go and see if he could steal it back.
An incense stick time later.
Rong Zhao was caught.
His clothes were extremely thin, barely covering his body, held together only by a belt. Anyone with a shred of shame wouldn't run around dressed like that.
Unfortunately, Venerable Rong possessed no such modesty.
When Ming Chen caught him, he struggled and recklessly kicked the High Immortal, causing his robes to slit and slip down, revealing several dark bruises on his thighs.
Ming Chen seized his ankle, pulled him into his arms, and kissed him.
Then Rong Zhao grabbed his neck.
"You want to kill me?" Ming Chen chuckled, casually flicking his fingers. "Let go."
Rong Zhao didn't loosen his grip, instead tightening his hold, coldly asking, "You aren't going kill me?"
"No, I won't kill you" Ming Chen replied bluntly.
-
Even among immortal lords, things weren't always smooth sailing; occasional clashes were inevitable.
But deaths in the immortal capital carried too heavy a karmic burden, and over time, an unspoken rule emerged.
When an immortal lord is defeated, their lives is spared; they are merely demoted to crippled immortals. This is considered their death, and past grudges are forgotten.
Consequently, while the number of immortals being demoted to crippled immortals due to repeated failures to transcend tribulations are actually rare in the Heavenly Sea Realm; the total number of crippled immortals remains significant.
This is precisely why.
-
Rong Zhao, being new to the capital, was naturally unaware of this rule. Hearing Ming Chen say "no killing," his expression relaxed slightly.
For some reason, the thought that Ming Chen might be lying never even crossed his mind.
Deep down, he still harbored an instinctive, deep-seated trust in this white-robed, silver-haired High immortal before him, yet he was oblivious to it, simply accepting Ming Chen's words without question.
"What are you looking for by running out like this?" Ming Chen finally pried the other's fingers loose, and after a moment's thought, he guessed, "The Rao Zhi Rou?"
"My thing, give it back."
Ming Chen took out that cluster of crystalline thin threads from his sleeve.
Rong Zhao was stunned.
Since the Rao Zhi Rau was right there on Ming Chen, his search here had been nothing short of walking into a trap.
...
No wonder he was caught.
Just as he was about to reach for it, the Rao Zhi Rau suddenly became unruly, trembling on its own, then nimbly wrapped around his body, as if turning against its master, binding him tightly.
Rong Zhao: "?"
"When did I say I'd return it to you?" Ming Chen picked him up, saying calmly, "This isn't Cuiyu Mountain; your word doesn't count."
-
Rong Zhao was taken back to the room and thrown onto the bed.
With Rong Zhao's meager immortal essence, it was normal for his natal weapon to be forcibly controlled by a High Immortal. But for Venerable Rong, this was a great insult, even more unbearable than being forced into dual cultivation.
Rong Zhao struggled fiercely, trying to regain control of the Rao Zhi Rau.
"Don't move." Ming Chen leaned in close, his fingertips brushing against the glistening threads wrapped around his thigh, " You will chafe your skin ."
The thin thread bound him tightly, the slender, white flesh of his legs peeked out from the crisscrossing gaps, revealing faint red marks where the binding bit into his skin.
Rong Zhao couldn't break free and finding that struggling only caused him sharp pain, he finally quieted down. He fixed a chilling, icy glare towards Ming Chen.
"What exactly do you want?"
"To collect a debt." As Ming Chen spoke, he loosened his sash while planting light kisses at his earlobe, his warm breath brushing against his ear. "Since you coaxed my avatar into becoming your Dao Companion, then naturally, I will collect all the Dao Companion responsibilities you haven't fulfilled in the past two years. Let's start with... serving me in bed every day."
Rong Zhao was pushed down onto the bed.
Silver strands of hair brushed against his cheeks, tickling him.
He lay on his back, forced to submit, quietly watching Ming Chen for a long while, then suddenly a smile curled at the corners of his lips.
Rong Zhao's smile was actually quite beautiful.
Ming Chen's movements faltered slightly, and he couldn't help but soften his touch, brushing aside the disheveled hair on Rong Zhao's face: "What are you thinking about?"
"I... I was thinking," Rong Zhao murmured, his expression languid to the point of haziness. Swallowing the groan that nearly escaped his lips, he paused, then said softly, "That face of yours... if it were peeled off... bloodied and raw, it would definitely... look very beautiful... ugh!"
The light gauze curtains hung low, swaying gently, from which occasionally a broken cry escaped.
In the midst of the chaos, Rong Zhao bit the Immortal Ming Chen's hand, fiercely, almost tearing off a piece of flesh.
As punishment, the next day, Rong Zhao was chained up with a thin silver chain.
