Chapter Ninety-Six: This Woman Is No Simple Matter

Chu Han paused in surprise. This woman was highly skilled in illusion arts, making her attacks nearly impossible to guard against. Her strength was also truly at the Yang Realm, far above Xue Ren’s. If he had not possessed a mind as steady as a rock, he would likely have already fallen under countless illusions.

Such an opponent was indeed troublesome. If her illusions were taken to the extreme, even he might not have been able to break them. Fortunately, Yang Rong had not yet reached that level.

“Is that so? Then it seems this is nothing special after all.”

A faint smile touched Chu Han’s lips. His body turned into a streak of lightning and vanished from Yang Rong’s sight. She was startled and hurriedly leapt aside, just as a bolt of lightning struck the very spot where she had stood moments before. If she had been any slower, she would have taken the full blow.

When she unleashed her illusion formation, Chu Han had already seen through her intentions. And when he attacked her, the Yang Rong before him carried not the slightest trace of true energy; at a glance, it was obvious she was not the real body. So Chu Han simply played along and turned her scheme against her. Still, her reaction speed was undeniably swift.

Having been toyed with by Chu Han, Yang Rong flew into a rage and rushed at him. The longsword in her hand slithered like a venomous serpent, aiming straight for Chu Han’s throat. Not only was her illusion array formidable, her swordsmanship was just as sharp.

Chu Han did not dare be careless. No matter what, Yang Rong was a master of the Yang Realm; if he were struck, his defenses might not be able to withstand her attack. Thinking this, he twisted his body and evaded her strike. In terms of speed, Chu Han had the upper hand.

At the same time, Yang Rong’s longsword wound in again. Chu Han snorted coldly and wrapped his right hand in lightning as he took the attack head-on. At once, a gash opened across his right hand and blood poured out, but he also managed to seize her sword with one hand.

Chu Han’s strength was naturally not something this woman could compare to. No matter how hard Yang Rong tried, she could not wrench the sword free. In the end, she simply abandoned it and tried to retreat, but by then it was too late to run.

Chu Han’s lightning followed close behind. A bolt as thick as a forearm slammed into Yang Rong’s back. She cried out in agony, spat out a mouthful of blood, and collapsed to the ground, only to rise again almost immediately.

Chu Han flung the sword aside and hurled a brutal punch. Yang Rong dodged it, but the ground behind her was blasted into a deep crater. The sheer force made everyone nearby draw a sharp breath.

Yang Rong frowned. Her body transformed into a length of pink silk, which instantly wrapped itself tightly around Chu Han. He struggled for a long while but still could not break free, and he was shocked. If this continued, once Yang Rong launched her next attack, he would have nowhere to dodge.

And so it was: just when he feared it, Yang Rong’s head suddenly appeared behind Chu Han. A dagger was clenched between her teeth, and she drove it viciously downward. At that very moment, Chu Han finally broke free of her restraint. He lowered his head, narrowly avoiding the dagger, then seized her body and slammed her violently to the ground.

Yang Rong let out a piercing scream. This time, she could no longer rise.

In truth, Yang Rong was very strong. She had simply chosen the wrong opponent. Chu Han’s heart was as firm as a rock, and his strength was overwhelming; both happened to counter her perfectly. There was nothing to be done. Losing to him was only natural.

Chu Han felt a faint chill at the sight of this woman, whose heart was as venomous as a scorpion’s. He did not want to give her any chance to counterattack, so he rushed forward at once, intent on finishing her off. Yet the woman lay motionless on the ground, as if she had already seen through life and death. A faint smile even curved at the corners of her mouth.

By then, Chu Han’s fist was only a few inches from her face, but he could not bring it down. In her eyes, he saw despair and release. Though this woman was cruel to the bone and an accomplished actress, his instincts told him she was not pretending now.

Chu Han sighed and did not strike. He thought of how Yang Rong had founded the Saintess Sect and, over all these years, had built it into something so large. For a woman to endure such hardship, what kind of suffering must she have gone through to become what she was now?

“Why won’t you kill me? I am the leader of the Saintess Sect. You are the emperor’s lackey. If you do not kill me, the emperor will kill you.”

Yang Rong gave a cold snort. There was no trace of seduction left in her eyes now. In its place was frost, absolute frost. One look from her was enough to make Chu Han feel chilled to the bone.

That gaze was cold from the depths of her heart. The self-loathing in it made Chu Han curious. Just what kind of experiences had turned her into this?

“I do not work for anyone. Helping the emperor wipe out the Saintess Sect is only me repaying a debt of gratitude. I do as I please. No one can bind me.”

Chu Han snorted coldly. He was a Celestial Sovereign; no one could command him. In the past, the Ten Celestial Sovereigns had been so formidable, yet before him they had still been like mice before a cat, let alone some emperor of Great Chu.

And he was not wrong. Coming here to destroy the Saintess Sect was merely his way of repaying the emperor. After all, Tang Hao had been able to gain a foothold in the imperial capital only because of the emperor’s favor. That favor had to be repaid.

“Oh? Is that so? If you are not going to kill me, could it be you want to do something indecent? Stop pretending. I know men like you—nothing but creatures ruled by the lower half of their bodies. Come now, let me see just how manly you really are.”

With that, Yang Rong gave a seductive smile and beckoned to Chu Han with a crooked finger. The expression on her face was nearly enough to make him lose control and rush forward—but in the end, he still held back.

He knew the woman before him was only acting. In Yang Rong’s eyes, he had seen disgust, yet she was still forcing herself to do this. Thinking of that, Chu Han became even more curious about her past.

“Stop pretending. You must hate men, don’t you? Everything you are doing now is just an act.”

Chu Han smiled faintly, reached down to help her up, and seated her on a rock. He was not very willing to lay hands on a woman, and he also believed that whatever Yang Rong had done must have had her reasons. He trusted his instincts.

“What do you mean? I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Hearing his words, Yang Rong froze for a moment, then turned her head away and refused to look at Chu Han. Still, her tone turned icy, the sultry softness gone from her voice.

Seeing how stubborn she was, Chu Han gave a wry smile and sat down beside her. To him, there had never been much enmity between himself and the Saintess Sect, nor any real connection at all. He had merely come because the emperor wanted the sect destroyed, and he was not very willing to toil for the emperor anyway. From the start, he had never intended to kill Yang Rong.

“You understand what I mean. The Saintess Sect is an evil cult; everyone knows that. I want to know what happened to you, what could have led you to found an organization like this, and what turned you into what you are now.”

Chu Han smiled lightly and spoke in a soft voice. As soon as his words fell, he felt the woman beside him tremble. His guess had indeed been correct: this woman was far from ordinary.

Yang Rong stood up. Since her body was still numb, her movements were slow. She turned and looked at Chu Han with a cold gaze. “This is my business. It has nothing to do with you. The victor rules, the loser is doomed. Since I lost, my life is yours. Kill me.”

It seemed Yang Rong no longer wished to say anything else. She only wanted death. Her eyes were sharp, yet there was not the slightest trace of the desire to live within them. Instead, there was only a growing loathing for this world. Only someone who had suffered something truly terrible would wear such a world-weary expression.