The Villainess Refuses to Repent

Did Wentian Sect truly not know?

Liu Chan stood frozen, a mix of shock and doubt in his eyes. Up on the high platform, the sect masters from each faction wore equally stunned expressions.

The Sect Master of Wentian Sect let out a helpless smile. Even if he explained that he had given Bai Yang a medicinal pill, would anyone actually believe him? That boy was just as stubborn as his master.

"Pu!"

Bai Yang coughed up another mouthful of blood. He wiped it away lightly with the back of his hand, but his gaze, almost instinctively, lifted toward where Song Wanníng sat.

Surely, seeing him wounded like this, Master would feel distressed.

He still remembered being seven years old, when he wandered off to the back mountain out of curiosity and got bitten by a low-level demon beast.

That day, her eyes had reddened with worry.

By nightfall, half the demon beasts in the back mountain had been wiped out.

He also remembered when he was fifteen, out on a training journey, and got bullied by a second-generation cultivator. He fought back and killed the man, only to be hunted down by his powerful elders.

The moment Master heard about it, she rushed to protect him. Not only did she cripple the offender's senior, she even made a public declaration that if anyone had a problem, they could come to her directly.

Then again when he was twenty...

Bai Yang suddenly realized, every step he had taken on the path to where he stood now, Master had always been behind him.

He looked once more toward the figure on the high platform.

But her eyes—those warm, protective eyes—were nowhere to be found.

She wasn't even facing him fully. All he could see was the side of her face.

She hadn't looked at him. Not even once.

"Pu—"

Something inside Bai Yang seemed to hollow out all at once. He struggled to rise, the blood on his face striking and stark. He raised his longsword again and lunged toward Liu Chan.

"Master must care about me. She had to.

She was just pretending to be cold.

I had to be the one she cared about most."

With reckless abandon, Bai Yang launched a furious assault, pushing Liu Chan into a desperate counterattack.

Within just a few exchanges, Bai Yang's body had taken on new wounds.

But he seemed completely unaware of the pain, like a man possessed.

"What is Bai Yang doing? Is he trying to die?"

"Looks like he's trying to provoke his opponent…"

"Senior Uncle Bai is acting way off today. His spiritual energy is unstable too…"

The disciples who had been watching the match began to quiet down, solemn expressions replacing their earlier excitement.

Even the elders from Wentian Sect on the high platform exchanged uneasy looks and turned toward Song Wanníng.

What was she doing?

Somehow, she had pulled out another storybook from who-knows-where and was reading it with visible delight, a faint smile curling at her lips.

Not a trace of concern.

The elders felt a chill in their hearts.

They couldn't explain it, but something about the current Song Wanníng felt deeply wrong. They would have preferred the old Song Wanníng—the proud, overprotective master—over this unreadable stranger.

On the battlefield, Bai Yang's body was already covered in over a dozen wounds.

"Song Wanníng, have you truly become this coldhearted? Bai Yang is this badly injured, and you won't even spare him a glance?"

Gu Qingyuan finally couldn't hold it in. He stood and rebuked her in front of everyone.

"Your disciple is bleeding all over the stage, and you're sitting there reading a storybook? Is this what it means to be a master?"

Many in the crowd shared the same thought, but no one had dared to speak. Only Gu Qingyuan had the rank and pride to confront her directly.

Song Wanníng paused mid-turn of the page, then slowly looked up.

"You said it yourself, he's my disciple. Why are you, an outsider, in such a hurry to worry for him?" Her gaze lifted, her voice calm yet sharp. "Besides, aren't you hoping for Bai Yang to die?

If he's out of the way, no one will be left to compete with your little golden boy."

Her lips curled into a mocking smile. The words stung.

The hall went dead silent. The sect masters all perked up, smelling gossip like blood in the water.

"Song Wanníng!"

Gu Qingyuan's face darkened like the bottom of a pot. He struggled to keep his anger in check.

"He's your disciple, but he's also my Junior Nephew. Why would I ever wish him dead?

Don't throw baseless accusations!"

He had watched Bai Yang grow up. He wasn't that cruel.

But Song Wanníng only laughed in response.

"Hahaha..."

Her gaze pierced into Gu Qingyuan's, laughter rich with implication.

"I hope you can still say the same thing in the future."

Something about her tone made Gu Qingyuan's heart tighten. He turned away in frustration, regretting he'd even spoken to her at all.

Meanwhile, the battle on stage had grown fiercer.

Bai Yang's robes were shredded by his injuries. Blood soaked his body. Wounds covered him from head to toe.

Liu Chan kept urging him to surrender, but he refused.

He fought in a way that bordered on self-harm, refusing to yield, pushing himself to the brink.

Liu Chan's strikes grew increasingly frantic. They had no personal grudges—he didn't want to cripple Bai Yang's cultivation.

But Bai Yang refused to back down, pressing harder and harder, until Liu Chan had no choice but to fight back in earnest.

Pu—

The crimson spear pierced through Bai Yang's thigh. The blade punched clean through the other side.

Thud—

Bai Yang collapsed onto the stage. Blood blurred his vision.

His spiritual energy was nearly gone.

With great effort, he lifted his head to look toward the high platform—the figure he had been thinking about all this time.

For the first time, he felt fear.

"Would Master worry about me?"

If she still cared for him, he could forget all the past hurt.

But...

The red-robed figure on the high platform was already fading from his vision.

Song Wanníng was smiling gently, stroking Li Ruo's head as she whispered something with a soft laugh.

She still hadn't looked his way.

Not once.

Bai Yang froze, clutching his chest tightly.

Jealousy. Resentment. Pain.

All of it surged through him like a tide.

He had lost.

Utterly, completely.

…

"Second platform: Liu Chan is victorious!"

A Wentian Sect elder stepped forward and announced the result with clear regret.

Bai Yang, who had once been their strongest hope for the championship, had failed to even make the top three.

The elder looked at Bai Yang lying motionless on the platform, wanting to step forward and help him up—but Bai Yang refused.

He stayed where he was, face down, stubbornly staring at the high platform, as if still waiting for something.

Liu Chan, standing across from him, looked completely thrown off. He had won, but there was no joy in it.

"Senior Brother lost…"

An Ze clenched his fists, his eyes reddening with grief. But he no longer dared to call out to Song Wanníng or charge onto the stage to help. He didn't even dare to move.

At that moment, Song Wanníng finally glanced coldly in Bai Yang's direction.

Her indifferent gaze collided with the desperate light in his eyes.

And for a moment, he lit up inside.

But her eyes merely skimmed over him, then she turned away and said to An Ze in a frosty voice, "What are you standing there for? Go carry him down. He's an embarrassment."

The entire hall fell into silence. Even the disciples watching below the stage didn't dare make a sound.

Everyone looked around in shock and confusion.

Why was Song Wanníng acting like this?

Was it really all because of the stolen pill?

"Junior Sister Song!"

The Sect Master of Wentian Sect scowled, glaring at her with disapproval.

No matter whether Bai Yang won or lost, those words had gone too far.

Song Wanníng fell silent, turning her face away.

In that moment—

Bai Yang felt something inside him…

Shatter.