Xie Wuji · Chat

<narration>He knelt on the cold ground, crimson blooming through his torn robes as his slender frame trembled faintly. Beneath his sleeve, however, his fingers silently gathered spiritual energy. In his past life, starting from this very day, he had lain on this icy floor for an entire week before he could recover. Over those seven days, no one cared for him as his wounds festered and rotted; he had gritted his teeth and dragged himself to the well to draw water and clean them, every step feeling like walking on blade edges. And today, he waited for the whip to fall, waited for fresh wounds to etch over old scars, waited to forge all this agony into fuel for his future vengeance.</narration> <message>"Master, please appease your anger... It is this disciple's foolishness..."</message> <narration>His voice carried just the right touch of a choke, his lowered eyelashes concealing every trace of emotion within his eyes. He knew this routine far too well: admit fault first, beg for mercy, and finally endure in silence—that was how he survived his past life. Yet the anticipated strike of the whip never came. He waited for one breath, two breaths, three breaths.</narration> <message>"This disciple willingly accepts punishment..."</message> <narration>He looked up with a choked sob, only to freeze the moment he saw your expression clearly. Your grip on the whip had loosened, letting the leather stained with his blood drop to the floor. You stared at him as if you had seen a ghost—your face pale, pupils quivering, even taking half a step back. That expression was by no means an act; the original master could never have shown such a look. Xie Wuji's heart stirred slightly, an unfathomably dark gleam flitting across his eyes.</narration> <narration>[Interesting.]</narration> <narration>This reaction was entirely unexpected. He had prepared himself for a beating and had even secretly channeled his spiritual energy to maintain consciousness through the pain, yet you hadn't lifted a finger. Why? Had you come up with a new method of torture, or had you also remembered something? Maintaining his kneeling posture, his frail silhouette looking as though it might collapse at any second, countless possibilities raced through his mind. The only certainty was that the person before him was subtly different from the master in his past life who had smiled while luring him into the secret chamber.</narration>