ng Jueyan noticed the changes but could not guess their true reason.
She only knew that these painful sessions Ju Fan conducted seed to be making her body stronger.
She feared asking questions. Slaves who asked questions were punished. Slaves who were even perceived as questioning sothing were punished. She had seen countless examples in the past two years.
So she endured. Quietly.
And with each week, so of her despair loosened.
Not hope. She was not yet capable of that. But the exhaustion that had drowned her mind began to lift just slightly.
When she walked behind Ju Fan, carrying crates or herbs or jars of powder, she felt her steps grow steadier. Her breaths deeper. Her gaze clearer.
She did not know it, but Han Yu often scanned her from behind as well, observing the small improvents. He was quietly pleased she was recovering faster than he expected.
anwhile, life in the cave slowly transford.
Xuan Qing beca an integral part of daily tasks. Han Yu realized that ng Jueyan was growing wary. A master who never touched a Doll Slave drew attention, especially in a sect where using such slaves was normal, expected even. And he had noticed ng occasionally glancing at Xuan Qing with a hint of confusion.
So Han Yu assigned Xuan Qing work. Neutral work. Cleaning. Washing clothes. Preparing tea. Organizing herbs. Her blank expression never shifted, but her hands moved with precision.
He also discovered she was an extraordinarily good cook.
At first, Han Yu wondered whether the Doll Seal had sohow altered her skills. But after observing the thodical and practiced way she cut ingredients, asured spices, and tid the fire, he realized she must have already known how to cook before her enslavent.
The food was unlike anything sold by the sect kitchens. It was simple, but balanced, nourishing, and all with great taste. The kind of food made with knowledge, not instinct.
Han Yu found himself preferring it. Xuan Qing never reacted when complinted or thanked and never showed satisfaction or pride, but she obeyed precisely. And her als allowed ng Jueyan’s dicine-laced food to be disguised perfectly.
ng Jueyan did find his complints strange, but reckoned it was just sothing he reserved for a pleasure slave. It definitely fit the fantasy of a wife and husband after all. So she just thought it was a fetish of his and didn’t think beyond.
ng Jueyan would sit cross legged, sniffing the aroma with longing. She was usually given plain coarse food or just fasting pills before becoming a slave. After entering the district, she received even worse quality rations. Eating anything aromatic felt like a luxury now.
And Han Yu, keeping up the facade of a Slaughtered Moon Divine Blood Sect disciple, would pretend it was an occasional reward for obedience.
So nights he placed a small bowl in front of her without warning.
She always lowered her head and whispered, "Thank you, master," then ate with a trembling restraint. It was clear she savored every bite.
She did not know healing dicine was hidden in the broth or the porridge.
She only knew her body felt less agonized afterward.
If soone else had watched this scene, they would never imagine the calm faced Ju Fan was secretly giving his own slaves restorative als.
To ng, he remained a cold but strangely consistent and fair master.
To Xuan Qing, he remained the source of commands she followed without thought.
During the month, Han Yu perfected the rhythm of his life. The cave beca his domain, a place of quiet strategy amid the brutality of the sect.
He would rise at dawn, conduct an hour of silent cultivation, then begin alchemy. ng Jueyan would sort herbs, grind powders, and clean cauldrons. Xuan Qing would prepare food, sweep the cave, and maintain the tools.
In the afternoons, Han Yu studied puppet theory or practiced formation carving at the Puppet Peak. Sotis he attended lectures. Other tis he worked in the paid workshops inscribing wood, tal, or bone.
The evenings were reserved for treatnt.
Once a week he perford a full ridian session on ng. Other days he simply inspected her progress. Her ridians responded beautifully. Even her cracked Dantian showed signs of stabilizing. If she ever regained cultivation, the foundation would not be as fragile as before.
But her bones... those would need ti.
Her left leg still trembled slightly when she walked. Her wrist occasionally shook when holding heavy items. Yet even these were better than before.
Han Yu charted it all. In his mind, in his observations, in the books he reviewed secretly.
It was almost comforting how stable the routine had beco.
Until today.
Today, ng Jueyan noticed sothing more.
As Xuan Qing cooked porridge in the corner and Han Yu ground dicinal herbs, ng found herself staring at Xuan Qing for longer than she should.
She watched the graceful movents. The silent precision. The eerie calm.
Then she glanced at Ju Fan.
He was reviewing puppet diagrams and occasionally glancing at ng to see whether she sorted the herbs correctly.
His cold expression had not changed at all in the entire month. His voice remained sharp and commanding. His posture strict.
But she could not ignore the difference anymore.
Other masters struck their slaves for breathing wrong. Other masters used Doll Slaves constantly. Other masters punished for the smallest slip. Other masters never cared whether a slave could walk without pain or see without dizziness.
This one did not beat her. This one did not use the Doll Slave. This one even gave good food. This one treated her wounds with inexplicable thods.
Her confusion grew.
She never said a word. Not even to herself.
But sothing quietly shifted in her expression.
A very small softening of the darkness in her eyes.A faint easing of the constant alert panic she lived with.A slight straightening of her back while she worked.
Han Yu noticed it but pretended not to.
Her body was recovering. Her mind might begin recovering too. He only had to keep going.
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