Chapter 67: Torrential Rains

Hui Mang, blindfolded and seemingly unconscious, played a short melody. The sound of the tune, like scattered pearls and jade, fell into the ears of the two people, more chaotic and oppressive than the rain outside.

Ming Zhuo was in great pain.

The curse texts of the Blood Shackle Curse were complex and obscure, learned by Ming Han from the secret arts of the Ming clan. Each time it activated, the texts formed chains that emerged from Ming Zhuo’s bones and blood.

He didn't show any signs of submission and repeated, "Scram."

Luo Xu, as if he hadn't heard clearly, asked, "What?"

Ming Zhuo said, "I told you—"

Suddenly, the thumb pressed against his lips exerted force, directly prying open his mouth and pressing against his teeth.

Ming Zhuo felt deeply offended and struggled violently, "I will kill—"

Luo Xu's thumb stirred, pressing deeper. The cold spikes on his ring clinked against Ming Zhuo’s teeth. Ming Zhuo wanted to bite him, but his tongue was too soft, pressed by the thumb, making his voice muffled.

Mix-breed!

Inside the dim silk tent, without candlelight, Ming Zhuo seemed like a thin blade wrapped in brocade. His body bent slightly from the neck, forming a poised arc.

Luo Xu was far from gentle, "You haven't answered me yet."

Ming Zhuo’s jaw was still being held, and he looked extremely dishevelled, but his expression remained arrogant. He repeated to Luo Xu, "Scram!"

Hui Mang suddenly plucked a string, ending the tune. The rain outside turned chaotic, and amidst the thunder and lightning, a sharp pain pierced Luo Xu's chest!

It was Ming Zhuo's doing!

He remembered the soul-binding pact; as long as he was in pain, Luo Xu would feel it too. So, he tightened the chains, doubling the pain and attacking Luo Xu. Luo Xu's grip loosened, and Ming Zhuo immediately broke free. Instead of escaping, he charged at Luo Xu.

Kuāngdāng!

The table was knocked over, and Ming Zhuo almost sprang up, spinning to kick at Luo Xu's neck.

Sōu!

The kick missed, only startling the white silk, making it float weakly between them. The killing intent was palpable, and the chains lightly clinked because Huimang was about to disappear. Once it vanished, the Blood Shackle Curse would lose its effect, causing the chains to loosen—

Luo Xu countered Ming Zhuo, but Ming Zhuo reacted quickly, using his toes to flip the overturned table towards Luo Xu.

Pēng!

The table shattered, and Ming Zhuo stepped back several times, preparing to attack again. However, Luo Xu gave him no chance. In the darkness, the sounds of their clashes echoed, with Mingzhuo retreating faster and faster until his leg was suddenly hooked.

Not good!

Ming Zhuo was immediately brought down. The white silk fell over his face as he grabbed it, trying to pull it away. Unexpectedly, his arm tightened, and he was directly yanked over!

The hall was pitch-black as Ming Zhuo crashed into an embrace. He struggled fiercely, but every raised arm was grabbed, and every raised leg was pinned down.

They were so close that only Ming Zhuo’s breath could be heard. Luo Xu, having removed his armour, wore a black narrow-sleeved garment. Despite this, his chest was still hard when pressed against Ming Zhuo.

Hui Mang had disappeared, and the chains reverted to curse texts, retreating from Ming Zhuo’s shoulders and arms back into his chest.

Luo Xu's gaze followed the curse texts downward, "If it hurts, just say so."

The floor was covered with a carpet and broken wine jugs, spilling wine and soaking Ming Zhuo. Pressed down, he raised his chin slightly, defiantly saying, "Scram!"

Luo Xu replied, "My fingerprints haven't faded."

The tyrant was so delicate, just a third of his force and less than a stick of incense's time left marks and redness. Though the posture exuded power, there was a hint of pity.

Both "my" and "fingerprints" offended Ming Zhuo again. His spine was taut, like an angry leopard. Unfortunately, he had no tail to lash out at Luo Xu in a warning.

Luo Xu said, "Are you nineteen this year?"

Ming Zhuo coldly replied, "I'm ninety."

Luo Xu removed his ring and placed it on Ming Zhuo’s finger. The ring's chain scraped against Ming Zhuo, the "manji" symbol glowing like a sealing spell, locking Ming Zhuo in place.

Ming Zhuo demanded, "What are you doing‽"

Luo Xu's eyes held a storm, "Binding you."

Ming Zhuo exerted force, and purple electrical currents shot from his fingertips but quickly fizzled out. He said, "You said sealing spells don't work!"

Luo Xu lifted him, "What I said was 'you can use a hundred or a thousand sealing spells on me and they won't work,' not that I can't use them on you."

Ming Zhuo argued, "The contract comes first!"

Luo Xu raised an eyebrow, "I didn't use a sealing spell."

He used a sacred artefact; the "manji" symbol ring was a weapon on his finger, but on Ming Zhuo’s, it was a spirit-binding tool. The ring was too large, it hung awkwardly on Ming Zhuo’s finger, but no matter how he tugged, it wouldn't come off.

The rain outside continued as Luo Xu stepped over the corpse of Cui Ruishan and walked out. In the distance, a leopard's cry echoed. The vast divine palace was empty, with high walls on both sides. Ming Zhuo had wandered here countless times, never having left.

Every time the Blood Shackle Curse activated, it caused excruciating pain in Ming Zhuo’s chest, but not today. Perhaps it was the blessing of the "manji" ring, he felt hot, and his recent pain vanished. Wet from the rain, he couldn't tell if Luo Xu's chest was too warm or if he was under a spell.

The Author Has Something to Say

A small bite of food.

Two men fighting the author kǎkǎ (choking). If there are still questions, the next part will reveal the answers. (Looking at the sky, tapping the keyboard, pacing back and forth)