The Poison was specially made for torture in the Blood Sect and giving too much can give even one a heart attack. But Huamu Ye was gonna die anyway so Han Yu doesn’t care.
The effect was imdiate.
Huamu Ye jerked violently, eyes snapping open wide. His pupils shrank, breath coming in rapid gasps. He tried to move but found himself bound. Confusion hit him first. Then fear.
Han Yu stepped aside and gestured lightly with his hand.
"Begin."
The mont he said it, sothing inside Qing Luan snapped.
She lunged forward with a speed that startled even Fen Dugong. Her fingers wrapped around a short dagger that Han Yu had placed beside the stretcher earlier intentionally. The blade was crude and small, but in her grip it beca sothing venomous.
Huamu Ye’s eyes widened.
"Wha... who... you... what are you doing?" he stuttered, voice trembling.
Qing Luan’s lips curled into a thin, cold line.
"You are nothing," she whispered.
Her first stab struck his thigh. A wet, sickening sound echoed through the hall. Huamu Ye scread, high pitched and desperate.
Fen Ziyue covered Fen Mue’s ears, hugging him tightly while averting her gaze. Fen Dugong’s legs trembled, but he forced himself not to move. He knew this was not his place to interfere.
Qing Luan pulled the dagger out, blood splattering across her clothes.
"You people... called my mother a traitor," she said, stabbing again, this ti into his other thigh. "You took everything from her. From us."
Huamu Ye scread again, voice cracking.
"I did nothing. I do not know you. Please, please, stop. I beg you."
Qing Luan did not stop.
She stabbed his shoulder. Then his arm. Then the other arm. She stabbed as if each thrust of the dagger was aid not at a man, but at a mory. At her mother’s tears. At the whispers that followed her in her clan. At the plotting eyes of the first wife.
Her tears mixed with her sweat, but her hands were steady.
Han Yu watched with interest.He wanted hatred.He wanted resolution.He wanted a sharpened blade that he could shape over ti.
Qing Luan scread once, a sound of rage she had held in for far too long, and plunged the dagger into Huamu Ye’s stomach, twisting it. Blood poured out in thick waves, staining the stretcher.
Huamu Ye sobbed, coughed, begged, but the poison in his system kept him awake. His body spasd in agony, but he could not faint. He was trapped in a hell that Qing Luan now controlled.
Fen Ziyue shut her eyes tightly. Fen Dugong muttered a prayer under his breath. Little Mue whimpered softly into his mother’s clothes.
But Qing Luan was sowhere else entirely.
She whispered, voice shaking, "This is for the Fen clan. This is for my mother. This is for ."
She stabbed again.
And again.
By the ti she paused to breathe, Huamu Ye’s face had turned pale, drenched in sweat and tears. His body jerked with every motion, his breath rattling like broken glass.
Qing Luan raised the dagger to deliver the finishing blow.
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Three stewards entered, each carrying boxes, scrolls, booklets, and wooden chests. They froze instantly at the scene before them. Their eyes went wide, their legs buckled, and they lowered themselves to the ground without even daring to breathe loudly.
They could not understand who the girl was, or why she was torturing the young master.But they understood one thing very clearly.
Ju Fan had allowed this.
Therefore, they could not question it.
One of them bowed so deeply his forehead touched the floor. "Honored lord, we bring what you requested. The deeds, ledgers, contracts, business lists, keys, and docunts are here. Servants are carrying more from the back stores. Everything will be delivered shortly."
Han Yu clapped lightly, as if pleased with the results of a business transaction.
"Good work," he said. "Set it all down."
The stewards quickly complied, eyes firmly on the ground so they would not see the blood pooling across the floor.
Han Yu walked closer, glanced at the boxes, and nodded.
Everything was here.
Enough proof of ownership, enough wealth, enough evidence, and enough leverage to slowly tighten his control on the entire network the Birch Leaf rchants had run. Gold and silver mattered, but the information mattered more. The routes, the suppliers, the contacts, the debts the clan had collected over decades. All of it was now his.
He turned back to Qing Luan.
She had raised the dagger again, tears flowing freely but her expression filled with absolute resolve. This was not a crazed child. This was a girl who had found a target for her grief.
A girl who was becoming a blade.
Han Yu nodded once.
Qing Luan plunged the dagger straight into Huamu Ye’s heart.
The man’s body tensed, then fell limp. His last breath left him with a faint, pitiful whimper.
Silence filled the hall.
Qing Luan fell to her knees, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes unfocused. Fen Dugong and Ziyue approached slowly, not daring to touch her until they were sure she was done.
Han Yu stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder.
She froze... then slowly looked up at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and wild, but behind that was sothing else. Sothing steady. Sothing cold.
"You did well," Han Yu said softly. "This is only the beginning. The first step of reclaiming everything they stole."
Qing Luan closed her eyes and nodded.
She was trembling violently, but she nodded.
Han Yu turned back toward the stewards and the chests of wealth.
"Now," he said calmly, as if nothing brutal had just happened, "let us discuss business."
The stewards bowed lower.
Behind Han Yu, Qing Luan wiped her tears with the back of her bloodied hand. Her small fra shook, but her hatred burned brighter than ever before.
This was only the start of her transformation.
And Han Yu smiled slightly, satisfied.
Everything was falling perfectly into place.
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