Feeling the thick mockery in her words, Yuan Chun flew into inexplicable shame and anger. She pulled out her hairpin and viciously drove it into Consort Yuan's shoulder, blood soaking through her clothes.
"Mm..." Consort Yuan grunted in pain, yet she smiled stubbornly. "Do you know why he did not dare let you interrogate me? When he married you, did he tell you that concealing your status as husband and wife was to protect you? To keep the other eight Saints from taking the chance to murder you? That hiding your identity was also for the convenience of acting?"
Yuan Chun's eyes revealed uncertainty and alarm.
Seeing her reaction, Consort Yuan laughed through her tears. "Wondering how I know? Because I, too, am a wife he married in a formal ceremony!"
Yuan Chun was truly enraged from humiliation—or, more precisely, unwilling to accept such a reality. "Do not try to sow discord here!" She pulled out the bloodstained hairpin and viciously stabbed it down again and again, relentlessly plunging it in.
Consort Yuan struggled in agony, but she had lost the ability to resist. Her hair was being held, leaving her unable to dodge. In moments, her shoulder was a bloody mass of torn flesh.
After Yuan Chun stopped, Consort Yuan panted, "You and I probably were not the only ones. Before us, generation after generation of women—were they also like us? Knowing hope was slim, yet still dreaming of becoming the Great Yuan Sacred Venerable's wife, one day obtaining the Boundless Fruit, keeping their beauty forever, and living eternally without dying!"
"Bitch, shut up!" Yuan Chun swung her hand and delivered another vicious slap.
Boom! A tremendous crash came from outside, followed immediately by fierce sounds of battle.
Yuan Chun stopped and flashed out the door. A group of