The Villainess Refuses to Repent

"Senior Brother Bai only lost because his injuries hadn't healed. Otherwise, he would've claimed first place without a doubt!" An Ze clenched his fists tighter, his neck stiff with defiance as he tried to speak up for Bai Yang. In his eyes, Senior Brother Bai was the best, always had been. Besides, the reason Bai Yang lost—no one understood it better than their Master.

Yet she had humiliated him in front of everyone.

An Ze hated that he was too weak to stand up for Bai Yang.

Song Wanníng cast him a cold, sidelong glance. Her slender fingers lifted slightly, merely brushing back a loose strand of hair by her ear, but it was enough to make An Ze flinch and raise his arms protectively over his face.

Chh—

Song Wanníng couldn't help but laugh.

He used to shout at her like he had some backbone. Turns out, he was just a coward.

She leaned lazily back against her chair, took the peach blossom wine handed over by her attentive little disciple, and sipped it with quiet indifference.

The air was heavy with tension. Everyone's eyes shifted between Song Wanníng and Bai Yang.

Then, a cry from another dueling platform broke the silence, snapping everyone's attention to the ongoing match.

When they turned, what they saw left them stunned.

Ye Chuxue had been knocked off the stage and was now lying on the ground, coughing up a large pool of black blood. Her body looked frail and fragile, barely hanging onto consciousness.

Dark, viscous blood spread across the ground, shocking to behold.

Xí Wenjun's broadsword hovered at her throat, a long lock of Ye Chuxue's hair lying severed on the ground beside her.

"Chuxue!" Gu Qingyuan shot to his feet in disbelief. In a flash, he landed on the stage and knocked the broadsword away with a palm strike, then swept Ye Chuxue into his arms.

The girl in his embrace was frighteningly weak. Her lips were darkened with black, her entire body limp like a broken porcelain doll.

"Chuxue!" Xí Wenjun was flung backward by the force of the blow, but Gu Qingyuan had no time for him. He clutched Ye Chuxue tightly, then disappeared in a blink, reappearing on the spectator platform in front of Song Wanníng.

"Song Wanníng. Save her." His entire body was tense, eyes tinged red. The icy calm he usually carried had been completely shattered.

The authority in his voice stunned everyone present.

On the stage, Bai Yang had also forced himself upright. Staggering, he tried to make his way toward the platform, panic etched all over his face.

Lu Nanfeng rushed up as well, his concern completely unhidden.

Even An Ze forgot his fear of Song Wanníng and bolted forward in worry.

"Senior Sister Ye—what's happening to her?!"

It was clear to everyone now. Ye Chuxue had been poisoned.

"This young lady has been afflicted by poison. It must have entered her meridians and dantian during the fight, causing spiritual energy to destabilize and reverse its flow…"

Such a reversal could lead to qi deviation, or even madness if severe. Thankfully, her symptoms didn't seem that extreme. If the poison was purged, she would recover.

The sect master of Wanjian Sect offered a quick explanation, clearly trying to shield his disciple from blame. After all, this accident occurred during a match and might reflect badly on Xí Wenjun.

The Sect Master of Wentian Sect let out a pained smile, feeling like his hair was turning white on the spot. One disaster after another—he was exhausted.

"Junior Sister Song, Ye Chuxue's poison is flaring up. Can you treat her?" Even as he asked, he had little hope. If Song Wanníng was displeased again, she'd shame him in front of everyone without hesitation.

As expected, Song Wanníng remained sprawled in her seat, completely indifferent. The other sect masters around them began sensing something else—something gossipy and explosive—beneath the tension, and their expressions shifted subtly.

"Song Wanníng!!"

Gu Qingyuan's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening with strain.

"What exactly do you want?!"

He knew her too well.

He remembered when he fought Lu Xingyao from Wanjian Sect at Haoyue Valley. Neither of them would concede, both injured by the end, a draw in every sense.

Song Wanníng had been furious at his wounds. She gave Lu Xingyao a poisoned pill that caused seven days of unbearable itching—he scratched his skin raw.

That was how she always was. If you upset her, she'd get even. Always.

But to him, she had always been kind. Protective. Soft-spoken. She had never once hurt him.

And now, she was treating him like any other stranger.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. But stronger than bitterness was his concern for Ye Chuxue.

"Gu Qingyuan, I should be the one asking what you want."

Song Wanníng crossed one leg over the other, her brows raised just slightly.

"A dignified Nascent Soul cultivator, and you strike at a Foundation Establishment disciple. You're lucky the Wanjian Sect Master is gracious enough not to hold it against you."

Xí Wenjun had only fought fairly. But Gu Qingyuan had hurt him—knocked him clear off the stage.

Even if it was in the heat of the moment, it was still inappropriate.

Gu Qingyuan's lips pressed into a line. He answered stiffly, "I will apologize to Wanjian Sect personally. That's none of your concern."

"Just save her."

"What if I don't?" Song Wanníng's lips curled upward. She rested her chin on her hand and tilted her head toward him. "You'll kill me?"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Wasn't Song Wanníng engaged to Gu Qingyuan?

Now he wanted to kill her?

All eyes turned to Gu Qingyuan, wide with disbelief and intrigue.

He froze. "I never wanted to kill you! Stop twisting my words!"

He had only meant to pressure her into helping Ye Chuxue. Killing her was never on his mind.

"Really?"

Song Wanníng's smile faded.

She remembered how she had begged Gu Qingyuan, again and again, not to hurt the Song family.

Begged him to save her.

She had been his Junior Sister.

She had once been the woman he loved.

But he had only looked at her coldly, eyes like frost, and told her, "My Junior Sister died a long time ago."

They had driven her to madness—then stood above her, judging her for it.

Gu Qingyuan had personally bound her with the Immortal Binding Rope.

Her beloved disciple, Bai Yang, had stabbed her straight through the heart.

Destroyed her golden core. Reduced her to ashes.

All so she would never return.

Pain flared in her chest again.

Her hands gripped the armrests tightly, as she held back the flood of hatred building inside her.

She looked up at Gu Qingyuan.

That Immortal Binding Rope—she had given it to him herself…

"Yes, I can save her. But what now?" Song Wanníng stared into the depths of his eyes, as though seeing straight through him. "I just don't want to.

Your beloved disciple—she's going to die. Heh…"

She raised a hand to her lips and started laughing.

The sound chilled everyone present to the bone.

A cold dread crept up their spines. Something about Song Wanníng right now was… terrifying. She was a pure Fire Root cultivator, and yet there was a strange, eerie darkness clinging to her.

Only now did the outsiders begin to realize something far more complicated was unfolding.

"Beloved disciple"?

Gu Qingyuan and his own student?

The crowd erupted in hushed whispers, though the disciples of Wentian Sect looked completely unfazed.