Chapter Sixty-Five: Sending Him Away

Mo Nianian slammed the table with a resounding thud, her teeth clenched in fury. “You said he had nothing to do with Jiang Hu!” she spat.

Resemblance in looks, temperament, and habits could all be dismissed as coincidence. But now, even the name was the same.

She felt as though she’d run into a ghost.

The System was even more astonished than she was. “The sub-worlds are all matched randomly. No one can alter them.”

Mo Nianian’s gaze remained fixed on Jiang Hu, who slept fitfully before her. She ground her molars. “What do I do now?”

“Once a mission is initiated, it must be completed before you can leave the sub-world. If you force an exit, the entire task will fail.”

Damn it!

A storm of curses gathered in her mind, but none could find their way out.

She very nearly wanted to end Jiang Hu’s life right here.

That wretched man.

So, the collapse of the last sub-world was orchestrated as well? Just what was he? There were precious few in the Six Realms with such abilities—she should have known them all.

Yet there was no trace of this man in her memory.

A flicker of apprehension passed through her eyes.

She could not delay any longer.

Jiang Hu lay unconscious for two whole days before finally waking. Mo Nianian was the first to visit him. Before he could brighten at her arrival, she drew a pitch-black pill from her sleeve and thrust it at him. “Take this.”

Jiang Hu did not doubt the pill’s ingredients or effects in the least.

Obedient, he accepted it, tilting his head back and swallowing it whole. His gaze lingered on Mo Nianian, filled with longing—as though, even if she were to demand his life, he would offer it gladly.

“From today, you’re to go to the border. Your belongings are packed. Leave now.”

Her voice was cold and unyielding, leaving not a shred of room for argument.

Jiang Hu’s eyes darkened, a dull ache radiating from his chest. His voice was hoarse. “Master, you no longer want me?”

“Precisely. So be gone. The farther you go, the better. Never show yourself before me again.”

Her words were colder still—each syllable a blade driven into his heart.

“Why? Is it because I’ve fallen for you? Because I love you?”

The light in his gaze shattered. He fixed her with an unyielding stare, desperate for an answer.

“Yes. I have no need for a slave’s love.”

Her words crushed him, grinding his heart beneath her heel.

She said no more, turned on her heel, and left him behind.

Soon, the household guards arrived to “escort” Jiang Hu. They made it clear this was Mo Nianian’s command—and should he refuse to leave, they would not hesitate to use force.

Jiang Hu knew his own condition well.

He was as fragile as porcelain now—no match for the prince’s elite soldiers.

So she truly did not want him any longer?

He stood in silence for a long while. “I understand.”

He took with him only a comb and two changes of clothes, leaving the Regent’s manor—leaving the only place where he had ever felt sunshine.

His world plunged once more into darkness.

This time, deeper than ever.

The light had abandoned him; to the light, his faith and his love were too sullied to bear.

He cast the Regent’s manor one last lingering glance, then turned and walked away.

The Mo family’s men escorted him all the way to the border, delivering him to the military camp. Afterward, they severed all ties between him and the Regent’s household.

The border was in utter chaos—at least eighty or a hundred skirmishes and battles broke out every month.

No one believed Jiang Hu would survive the battlefield.

Once she sent him there, it was as if Mo Nianian had utterly forgotten this man.

She ate and drank as usual, never mentioning Jiang Hu again.

The Regent and his wife were full of regret, mentioning him several times in her presence, but Mo Nianian soon grew impatient, and they fell into tacit silence.

Jiang Hu vanished, lost from the sight of all.

Three years slipped by in the blink of an eye. Mo Nianian grew more delicate and pampered by the day, living in leisure and lassitude.

Even lying around felt tedious.

Baishao chattered on about the latest amusing events, but Mo Nianian listened with only the faintest interest.

“My lady, there’s more good news! Our armies have won a great victory at the border—Northern Yue has surrendered, and volunteered to become our vassal!”

Baishao’s cheeks flushed with excitement as she repeated the news several times.

Northern Yue? Mo Nianian recalled: that was Jiang Hu’s homeland.

Now that he had taken Northern Yue, surely his malice value had dropped?

“System, what’s the dog protagonist’s malice value now?”

The System let out a deep sigh. “Forty. Three years now, and not a single change.”

It shot Mo Nianian a resentful look. “I can already sense the mission’s failure.”

Mo Nianian was taken aback. “Are you broken? How is it possible it hasn’t dropped at all?”

By all logic, after the dog protagonist had avenged himself against everyone who’d once mocked and scorned him—and after she’d personally selected several beauties to present to him, each with their own alluring charm—surely it should have changed.

She had even crafted several chance encounters for him and those beauties.

And yet, the dog protagonist’s malice value remained utterly unmoved?

Mo Nianian had every reason to suspect the System was malfunctioning.

“This is the most advanced system—how could it be wrong! The protagonist’s malice value truly hasn’t shifted in three years! Even when you banished him, sick and dying, to the frontier, it didn’t rise a single point! If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is. Pity my host’s heart is as cold as iron.”

Mo Nianian cursed the dog protagonist under her breath, gnashing her teeth as she viciously bit into the fruit in her hand, imagining it was Jiang Hu.

“So what now, host?”

The protagonist’s vengeance was complete—he now had status, beauty, everything—yet his malice value remained unchanged.

Her plan had failed utterly.

The System sounded almost gloating. “Why not just call him back? Host, why not make a little sacrifice for the mission’s sake?”

“If you’re so capable, why don’t you take my place?” Mo Nianian retorted.

Her irritation only deepened.

“What’s wrong, miss?” Baishao asked, worried.

“Nothing. Leave me.”

Mo Nianian dismissed Baishao and began to ponder her next move.

All of a sudden, the candlelight in her room flickered and dimmed—someone had intruded.

Mo Nianian rolled over, hurling the half-eaten peach in her hand toward the darkness. It whistled through the air, swift and sharp.

The intruder caught the peach and let out a low chuckle.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” she snapped.

Trying to play tricks on her? Courting death?

Her hand found the dagger on the table, and she flung it hard.

The intruder dodged again, his movements graceful as he plucked the dagger from where it stuck in the wall.

He toyed with it for a moment, his laughter low and resonant, like music played on a fine instrument.

His gaze burned with longing—twisted, fevered, and wild. He stared at Mo Nianian, his eyes roaming over every inch of her.

She felt as though a wild beast had locked its sights on her, every nerve screaming in discomfort.

She had no intention of exchanging words. Her next strike was meant to kill, but he intercepted it.

With a single motion he drew her into his arms, eyes growing ever more manic and obsessed. He murmured in a low voice, “Master, it’s been such a long time.”