Teacher by day, Farmer by passion - Chapter 261

Chapter 261: Chaotic [2]
The next morning, dawn broke gently across the mountain peaks, but deep inside the cavern, time felt irrelevant.

The only indication of night passing was the changing rhythm of the guards’ patrols and the dwindling torches along the jagged walls.

Soft footsteps echoed through the stone chamber.. calm, composed, unhurried.

Betty entered the cavern like a queen returning to her throne.

Draped in a flowing crimson robe embroidered with gold thread, she radiated a quiet power that silenced the idle chatter of the guards.

Her golden hair was pinned in a loose knot, and a faint scent of jasmine followed her like a whisper.

She came to a stop before the two girls, who were still bound to a tall wooden stake at the center of the room.

Their robes were still torn and stained with dried blood, but the wounds had closed thanks to the healing pills forced down their throats the night before.

Neither Zhao Mei nor Zhao Yun looked fully recovered, but their breathing was steady, and their eyes, while tired, held defiance.

“Well now…” Betty said softly, clasping her hands behind her back.

Her voice was like silky cool and smooth, but with an edge that hinted at thorns beneath. “You two are more resilient than expected.”

Zhao Mei raised her head slowly, strands of her disheveled hair falling across her face.

“Came to mock us?” she croaked, her voice raw.

“Mock you?” Betty gave a small, amused laugh. “On the contrary. I came to observe. You see, most people would have broken by now. But you two… you’re holding up quite well. Impressive.”

Zhao Yun coughed weakly beside her sister but said nothing, her head drooping slightly.

Despite everything, her fingers twitched faintly, as if resisting even in her sleep-starved state.

Betty studied them both carefully, then stepped closer. She knelt down before Zhao Mei, meeting her bloodshot gaze.

“You were given a choice,” she said, her tone suddenly colder. “You could have told Icehart where the artifact was and spared yourselves all of this. But you refused. Why?”

Zhao Mei spat near her feet, not quite hitting her, but close enough. “Because we don’t know what artifact you two seek and where it is.”

“A real shame,” Betty cooed, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear as she gazed at the two girls still tied to the stake.

Her voice was light, almost affectionate, like she were commenting on spilled tea rather than uttering a threat.

“Pretty faces like yours… shouldn’t be hiding things that dangerous. But it’s alright. A few more days, and once we’re bored, well… that charming man over there is eager to entertain you. Well, might not just be one thought, haha”

The words dripped like honey, but their venom was unmistakable.

Betty turned with a gentle hum, her silken crimson robes whispering over the cavern floor as she exited.

Behind her, Zhao Yun let out a soft giggle, blood crusted at the corners of her lips.

“Sister…” she whispered, her voice hoarse, “I’m sorry.”

Zhao Mei shook her head slowly, her gaze distant but steady.

“Master is dead. The sect has fallen… We were just unlucky. Out on a mission when it happened.”

Her jaw tightened. “We should have died defending it.”

They said no more. In the silence, the torchlight flickered like a vigil.

Outside the cave, the world was brighter—but colder.

Betty strolled back toward her tent, her expression serene, eyes half-lidded like a cat basking in morning sun.

But halfway there, she paused. Icehart stood nearby, the veins on his temple twitching, his face dark with fury.

Her smile widened. Oh? The monkey’s having trouble. Let’s poke it a little.

She floated toward him, hips swaying, and called sweetly, “What seems to be the problem, Sir Icehart?”

Icehart turned to her, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle twitched beneath his eye. “None of your business, foreigner.”

Betty made a playful pout. “Oh, don’t be like that. Our sects are working together, remember? We’re partners in this mess.”

Icehart glared but said nothing.

Betty, eyes dancing with mischief, turned her gaze to the messenger standing nearby.

The poor man shifted nervously under her attention, eyes darting between them.

“Soul Search,” Betty whispered.

A golden flicker flared behind her eyes. The messenger gasped, his body convulsing, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

He dropped to his knees, hands clawing at his temples as if trying to rip the pain from his skull.

“Betty!” Icehart barked, lunging toward her—but it was too late.

The messenger hit the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, spasming, eyes wide with terror, drool spilling from his slack mouth as he twitched in silence..

Icehart grabbed Betty by the collar of her robe and yanked her back with a forceful growl.

His grip was shaking, not from fear, but from boiling fury.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Betty simply adjusted her collar and smoothed the wrinkles like brushing away dust.

Her tone remained airy. “Oh please. He’s just a peasant mortal. Little more than livestock.”

Icehart straightened, his face like granite.

“Even livestock are my people,” he said, voice quiet but sharp as broken glass. “You don’t touch what’s mine.”

The guards nearby stiffened at the change in tone. A few exchanged uncertain glances.

But Betty didn’t back down. She leaned in, lips curving into a wicked grin.

“Well then…” she said, loud enough for all to hear. “A man with such pride and loyalty. I wonder how you’ll survived with this little secret of yours.”

Icehart narrowed his eyes.

Betty’s smile widened as she traced a golden sigil in the air with a fingertip.

“One billion taels of gold, isn’t it? That’s your bounty, yes? Very tempting. I could retire, you know…”

The air changed. The surrounding guards tensed, some frozen in shock, others whispering to each other with hungry glances.

Icehart didn’t move, but the hatred in his eyes blazed like a frozen inferno.

He had wanted to keep that secret buried, now every man around looked at him like he was made of gold.

A guard near the back even whispered, “One billion taels…?”

Betty caught the sound, of course. She turned over her shoulder with a feline smile.

“Careful, Icehart,” she purred, “Monkeys don’t always get to choose which tree they die under.”

Then she walked off humming to herself, leaving the tension thick enough to cut with a sword.