A soft, sultry voice interrupted from behind. A figure approached slowly, her movements languid and boneless, her presence dripping with seduction.
It was Yan Liu, a fox spirit with a name befitting a courtesan and an appearance to match—her beauty so extreme it transcended vulgarity and became mesmerizing.
“The Daoist priest was just a step away from subduing him. Why did you interfere?” Yan Liu continued, drawing closer step by step. “No matter. If you can’t bear it, I’ll take care of him for you. Now, move aside!”
Amber didn’t reply. She spread her arms wide, firmly blocking Mo Xie from Yan Liu’s approach.
“What’s this? If you’re so determined to protect him, why did you lure the priest here to capture him in the first place?”
Why?
Because Amber had once seen Daoist priests capturing spirits. She had secretly followed them, watching as they cast the captured souls into the River of Rebirth.
She had assumed Xuan Ye was the same—that Mo Xie would forget the past and begin anew.
But she had been wrong.
Amber took a deep breath, her chest swelling with relief that she had managed to reach him in time.
“Answer me!” Yan Liu demanded, her eyes narrowing. “You can talk! You can actually speak! What else have you been hiding, Amber? Perhaps I underestimated you…”
“Are you trying to become another Bi Xi?” Yan Liu taunted, leaning closer, her voice both probing and mocking.
Amber flinched but quickly shook her head again and again.
No, she wasn’t Bi Xi. She was weak, timid, and unambitious—a far cry from the leader Bi Xi had been.
“Then why did you pretend to be mute?” Yan Liu pressed.
Why?
Another “why.” Questions like mountains, their weight crushing her throat and bending her spine.
Amber’s breathing grew labored, her hands trembling uncontrollably.
In the beginning, Amber had only known the language of animals. Bi Xi had been so strong, so capable, that Amber hadn’t needed to try hard. She could simply rely on her, cling to her, and indulge in playful whims.
Then Bi Xi had chosen Mo Xie. She ensnared him, made him fall hopelessly in love, and became his wife.
As a wife, Bi Xi was everything one could hope for—beautiful, gentle, efficient, and meticulous in running their household.
The only oddity was that their intimacy always had to happen at night, with the windows closed and curtains drawn, allowing no light to seep in.
“This way, I won’t feel awkward,” Bi Xi had said once, her cheeks flushed, a clumsy lie that barely held together.
Mo Xie, of course, had agreed. He would agree to anything she asked. If she had wanted his heart, he would have ripped it out for her without hesitation.
Thus, every moonless night, Mo Xie would hold a soft, fragrant waist, losing himself in passion. In the heat of the moment, he would whisper repeatedly, “Bi Xi… Bi Xi… I will treat you well, this life and the next, only you.”
But the one he embraced in bed was never Bi Xi—it was always Amber.
“You can use him for cultivation, draw his energy to feed me—or yourself. And in the end, you can take his tongue. His tongue is full of spiritual power,” Bi Xi had said to Amber at first.
Later, Bi Xi began scolding her: “Why won’t you draw from him? You’re always so soft-hearted, afraid of everything. How can you ever lead the clan?”
Eventually, Bi Xi stopped scolding altogether. When she saw Amber, she would only sigh.
“You love him, don’t you?” Bi Xi would ask. Amber always shook her head.
But Amber knew—Bi Xi was asking herself the same question.
Even the indomitable Bi Xi had become entangled in human emotions, falling for the pure-hearted hunter. But Bi Xi would never admit it.
Time passed like this. At night, held in Mo Xie’s arms, Amber felt something brewing in her chest—an emotion swelling and surging, impossible to suppress.
Finally, one night, the pressure burst. In the dead of night, Amber learned to speak. The first words she ever said were: “I’m Amber, not Bi Xi. I’m Amber.”
Her enunciation was rough and halting, but the message was clear—she wanted Mo Xie to know that it was her, not Bi Xi, in his embrace.
In that moment, she realized she wasn’t as willing as she had thought. She had selfish desires, bitter grievances.
Her heart was tainted.
Bi Xi had given everything for the marten clan, while Amber had remained selfish, unwilling to live as her sister’s shadow.
Fortunately, Mo Xie had been fast asleep and only stirred slightly at her words.
From that moment on, Amber sealed her lips and vowed never to speak another human word.
She couldn’t control her heart, but she could control her mouth. She would keep her silence, for herself and for Bi Xi, preserving her sister’s dignity—at least what little remained.
“Whatever the reason, it has nothing to do with you.” After calming herself and sorting through her emotions, Amber raised her head. Though still trembling with vulnerability, she spoke with resolve: “And I won’t let you touch him again. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have died!”
“Oh, really?” Yan Liu replied, her voice laced with excitement, clearly provoked by the challenge. “Very well. I’d like to see just how you plan to stop me.”
With that, she reached into her wide sleeve, drawing out a thin silver thread.
Amber stood her ground, blocking Yan Liu’s path, but her lack of confidence was evident. Even before any moves were made, her aura had already conceded three steps.
“Do you know what happened that day in the trap?” Yan Liu asked with a smirk. “He was quite the robust man. A little uptight, yes, but after I teased him for a while, he began to respond. Men, after all…”
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