Chapter 25
"Impossible…" Huan Zheng muttered in a hoarse voice.
His eyes widened as he realized their distance, previously tens of meters apart, now reduced to only a few steps.
His knees trembled, no longer from physical pain but from disbelief.
How could the victim he had always considered weak suddenly become a threat?
And now so close.
Ling Xu stared at Huan Zheng with eyes full of uncertainty.
The man's body had become a canvas for a strange painting.
It was impossible to understand who or when.
Dark splotches spread across his skin, forming perfect isosceles triangles, as if carved by invisible hands.
Previously smooth and flawless white skin now transformed, changing color without a single defiance, shifting into dark blue and gradually blackening.
As if swallowed by night.
Ling Xu observed every change in detail, committing to memory the process that was eroding Huan Zheng.
Slowly but surely.
Huan Zheng's breathing became short, eyes wide with fear while trembling fingers tried to touch the surface of his own skin.
Each touch left only an impression, a cold and alien sensation, as if the prototype of touch was no longer his own body.
Ling Xu noted how the bluish hues continued to darken, creeping like ink seeping through pores.
The black triangles pulsed gently, alive and breathing on Huan Zheng's skin.
The room felt increasingly stifling, the air thickened by unavoidable abnormality.
Impossible to escape.
Ling Xu took a step backward, unconsciously distancing herself from the sight.
Always unsettling the mind.
Huan Zheng could no longer stand upright, his body bent under the weight of unstoppable transformation.
Both hands clutched his own arms, pale claws pressing into flesh as if trying to stop something far beyond human comprehension.
Ling Xu paid no heed to the empty darkness, gnawing at Huan Zheng's consciousness.
Her body moved quickly, approaching the man from behind with sure steps.
The tip of her right foot struck Huan Zheng's spine, using only one-sixth of her strength, yet enough to propel his body forward.
Huan Zheng's forehead slammed into the floor with force, forcing him to bow instantly.
The impact rolled Huan Zheng's body three times before he was thrown onto his back.
His chest rose and fell erratically, face pale, breaths short.
Ling Xu stood beside him, eyes tracking every reaction, every twitch of his muscles.
Marking how Huan Zheng's body slowly surrendered to the unknown force, offering her the opportunity to dominate.
His skin continued to change, the dark bluish hue deepening, seeping even into his bones.
The black triangles pulsed more vigorously, like a heartbeat across his flesh.
Ling Xu clenched her hands, ready to act again if necessary, though she knew this might not be a battle that could be fully won.
Not with kicks, nor with strikes.
She observed the drastic change calmly.
Huan Zheng's near-victory had vanished in an instant, replaced by utter helplessness forcing his body into submission.
Always under absolute control.
All of Huan Zheng's pride and ferocity collapsed like a fragile wall struck by a storm, revealed as nothing but an illusion.
It was no longer Huan Zheng who determined the next move, but Ling Xu, with each motion precise.
She had the opportunity to carve a new destiny.
No words were necessary. Her presence alone became command, making Huan Zheng realize that his position had been reversed.
Ling Xu still remembered the tingling sensation in her abdomen, the scar left by the piercing stone that had once punctured her body.
The aftermath of that vicious attack.
The memory of betrayal ignited a burning rage in her chest, turning each breath into a blast of vengeful fire.
Now, with Huan Zheng lying on his back, hands limp at his sides, the time for retribution had arrived.
Ling Xu's right foot slammed down, striking Huan Zheng's chest, pressing against ribs that rose and fell irregularly.
Her body weight shifted fully onto her foot, channeling all momentum into the stomp as a mark of power.
A wild satisfaction crept in, forming in Ling Xu's gaze as she felt Huan Zheng's bones crack softly.
Especially as she saw his face suddenly turn bluish pale from the pressure.
Exceedingly satisfying.
Huan Zheng jerked, mouth gaping, struggling for a breath that never seemed enough.
His fingers clawed at the ground, searching for leverage to escape, but Ling Xu's heavy stomp was like a tombstone.
As if deliberately crushed.
With each pulse of Huan Zheng's neck, pain and submission were sustained.
As if deprived of air.
Ling Xu did not flinch. Her foot pressed harder, aiming straight for Huan Zheng's heart.
The shadow of previous failure, the pain in her abdomen, all was now avenged through gasps of exertion.
Nothing else emerged from Huan Zheng's mouth.
The wind whispered softly, witnessing two fates swap places—the betrayer now oppressed, while the wounded stood victorious.
Huan Zheng realized the chasm of fate had swallowed him.
His eyes, bluish pale, stared at Ling Xu bitterly, lips cracked and trembling, forming broken words of surrender.
Each syllable from his mouth felt like fragments of a last hope, scattered between gritted teeth and a stiff tongue.
Cold sweat mixed with dust clung to his temples, forming black streaks across his face.
Gradually losing light.
His chest rose and fell erratically, as if each breath could be the last.
Tears welled, but not strong enough to fall, frozen by fear of an unwanted end.
Ling Xu stood tall, her face like an unyielding stone mask.
Her gaze swept over every detail of Huan Zheng's ruin, weighing every plea that escaped his lips.
A gentle wind carried the scent of sweat and dust, adding weight to each passing second.
Huan Zheng tried again, using his last remaining strength.
Weak hands tapped at Ling Xu's feet in near-meaningless movements, like a dying kitten seeking mercy.
A plea hung in the air, waiting for a decision that would determine if mercy still had a place between betrayal and vengeance.
Huan Zheng's surrender reached its peak—dry tongue touching the dust at the tip of Ling Xu's shoe in a humiliating gesture of desperation.
Saliva mixed with soil formed a streak of filth on her shoe, a symbol of the lowest servitude a betrayer could offer.
Ling Xu jerked her foot with cold precision, leaving traces of spit and dirt on Huan Zheng's cheek.
Her eyes narrowed, looking down on the trembling body below.
Huan Zheng let out a small scream, emitting noise as Ling Xu suddenly bent, her right hand grasping his hair through iron claws.
The Mustraya reacted more violently—bluish veins spreading across Huan Zheng's neck.
Like roots from hell.
To be continued…