Teacher by day, Farmer by passion - Chapter 260

Chapter 260: Chaotic [1]
In a deep and damp cavern carved by force of nature and time into jagged black stone, sharp as broken teeth.

Shadows flickered against the rough walls, cast by a ring of torches that burned with restless orange flame.

Outside, the moon hung high in the sky, cold and distant, offering no warmth to the hellish glow within.

Dozens of people stood in silence, eyes gleaming with curiosity or hunger, drawn by the cruelty unfolding at the center of the chamber.

Bound to a thick ironwood post, two girls slumped in silence.

Their robes were torn, smeared with dried blood and dirt. One of the girl lifted her head, barely.

Her face, pale from blood loss, still burned with defiance.

The youth stepped forward, a smile curling on his lips.

He was too clean for this place, silken robes embroidered in silver thread, boots without a speck of dust.

His hair was tied neatly back, his features handsome in the most disarming, venomous way.

“Zhao Mei,” he said softly, almost admiringly. “Such a lovely name.”

She didn’t answer, simply stared at him with fire in her eyes.

He crouched down, meeting her gaze. “You really won’t tell me, will you? Your life and your sister’s life.. both hanging by a thread, and yet you still claim to know nothing?”

Zhao Mei spat, blood flecking the ground between them. “I don’t care what you do to me. Or to her. I’ve already told you, we don’t know anything about the item you are looking for.”

The youth tilted his head. “Strange. My sources say it’s in one of you. So if it’s not you…”

He turned, eyes landing on the unconscious girl beside her.

“It must be your twin.”

Without hesitation, he lashed out with a swift, brutal kick to the sleeping girl’s side.

“Zhao Yun, was it? Wake up already.”

The impact forced a painful gasp from her lips as blood spilled from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered open—barely—and then fell closed again, too weak to hold the world in focus.

“Stop it!” Zhao Mei shouted, voice hoarse. “Leave her alone!”

But he ignored her..

The crack of his heel echoed against stone.

Chains clinked as Zhao Yun’s limp form jolted, a thin wail escaping her lips.

The youth clicked his tongue, disappointed. “Tch. You both look pathetic. You can’t even keep your eyes open. Must be the blood loss.”

He gestured lazily to the watching crowd. “Tell me, would you like to wake up to one of these peasants crawling all over your body? I’d hurry and talk if I were you.”

Zhao Mei turned her face away, jaw clenched. She said nothing.

The youth straightened with a sigh. “Fine. If you’d rather be stubborn.”

He turned on his heel. “Give them the healing pills.”

From the side, a man stepped forward. Greasy hair, yellowing teeth, and a smile too wide. He bowed slightly. “Of course, Master Icehart. But… may we have a little fun with them first?”

Icehart paused. He turned slowly, his expression twisting in disgust.

“Not tonight,” he said coldly. “I need them in perfect health before I extract the item. Once I’m done with what I came for, do what you want. Until then, keep your filth to yourself.”

The perverse smile on the man’s face faltered as Icehart walked away, robes swaying like a silken snake.

His lips curled into a sneer. “Tch. Ordering me around like a dog,” he muttered under his breath. “One day, he won’t know which direction the blade is coming from.”

He approached the Zhao sisters.

Neither had the strength to resist as he knelt and forced a small, glowing pill between their lips.

“Next time it won’t be medicine,” he whispered with a sick grin. “It’ll be something you’ll wish you’d choked on.”

He chuckled, rising to his feet.

“Keep your eyes open,” he barked to the others. “These two might look half-dead, but they’re dangerous. And don’t forget, the Flying Sword Sect may be broken, but their remnants are still out there.”

With a final glance over his shoulder, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving the girls in the firelight, breathing, but barely.

Beyond the fire-lit cavern, under the hush of tented silk, Icehart stepped into warmth touched by incense and veiled threat.

Inside, the air was thick with incense and veiled tension.

A single lantern hung from the central beam, casting warm, wavering light over the ornate rugs and low table at the center.

A woman reclined lazily on a cushioned seat, her legs crossed, a goblet of spirit wine in hand.

Her golden hair spilled over one shoulder, and her eyes gleamed with half-lidded amusement.

“So,” she purred, swirling the wine, “how did the interrogation go?”

Icehart sat heavily across from her, unsheathing the sword at his side and slowly polishing the blade with a cloth.

His movements were deliberate, controlled but the tightness in his jaw betrayed his frustration.

“Betty,” he said coldly, “is your intel accurate?”

She took a slow sip before answering, her voice lazy and unconcerned. “Yes. You don’t have to worry. That girl—she—will come. She won’t let the Zhao twins suffer long.”

Icehart’s eyes narrowed. “And if she doesn’t?”

The blade gleamed under the lantern light. “If she doesn’t show up soon, I swear, I’ll take your head myself.”

The tent temperature dropped noticeably.

For a split second, a radiant golden phoenix sigil shimmered across Betty’s forehead.

Her smile faded as her eyes sharpened, voice turning as cold as ice.

“I’d love to see you try.”

The air between them crackled with unseen pressure. Icehart’s grip on his sword tightened but only for a moment.

With a sharp scoff, he stood and stormed out of the tent, the flap snapping behind him like a whip.

Left alone, Betty exhaled slowly and set the goblet aside. The golden mark pulsed once more before fading.

Betty pressed her fingers to her temple, her expression slipping into shadow.

“Not now,” she murmured. “We agreed, remember? Just a little longer. Promise.”