Has This Woman Gone Mad?

The man screamed as he was sent crashing into the street, a deep gash across his chest exposing bone; he had already breathed his last before he even hit the ground.

The degenerates lining the street were stunned, scrambling back into the alleyways on either side, wishing they could embed themselves into the cracks in the walls.

"Happy enough to forget Bibi."

With another utterance, Bibi Dong vaulted onto a rooftop and kicked a fat man who hadn't managed to escape down to the street.

The man weighed at least three hundred pounds, hitting the ground with a dull thud that sent a cloud of dust billowing into the air.

Bibi Dong landed right behind him, twirled her long blade in her hand, pointed the tip at the man's throat, and thrust it downward with a savage force.

The blade pierced through the man's throat, and blood splattered onto Bibi Dong's cuffs, blooming like a dark red flower against the white fabric. She pulled the blade free and flicked the blood droplets off the edge, her movements as clean and efficient as if she were shaking off a few drops of rain. The surviving degenerates nearby had already retreated to the end of the street, pressed against the walls and not daring to even breathe, terrified that they would be the next to have their throats run through.

"What the hell is that woman going crazy for?" a bald Spirit Master hiding deep in an alley whispered to his companion, his voice trembling with irrepressible fear.

He had been in Slaughter City for three years and had seen more lunatics than there were stray dogs outside, but he had never seen such a suicidal style of fighting.

No probing, no standoff, not even bothering to release her killing intent—she just charged in without a word, hacked them down, and left, as if they weren't human beings but mere weeds blocking her path.

"God knows," his companion gulped, his eyes fixed on the white figure gradually moving into the distance. "I'm not going out today. That woman is truly cursed."

Such murmurs rose and fell behind Bibi Dong, but not a single person dared to pursue her.

They could only watch from the shadows as that white figure carried a dripping blade, fading away under the blood-colored sky, leaving behind nothing but scattered corpses and the lingering scent of blood hanging in the air.

No one knew why she had suddenly gone on a killing spree, and no one wanted to know.

In Slaughter City, curiosity was always the fastest path to the grave.

Having vented her rage, Bibi Dong returned to her room and sat down on her bed.

She sat on the edge of the mattress, her long blade already wiped clean and leaning against the headboard.

The bloodstains had been erased from the blade, revealing its cold, lethal sheen once more, yet her mind was far from calm.

Bibi Dong looked down at her hands, her fingertips still tingling with the faint, numbing sensation of the killing she had just committed.

She was all too familiar with this sensation; it was something she repeated every day in Slaughter City, but today was different.

With every strike she had delivered today, it wasn't the faces of her enemies that flashed through her mind, but that little brat's infuriating grin.

When he said, "Happy here, happy enough to forget Bibi," his mouth must have been curled high, his eyes crinkled into two crescent moons, looking so smug his tail could have reached the heavens.

Bibi Dong gritted her teeth, secretly thinking that she should have given Deng Tianxin a sound thrashing before she left.

Yet, she had to admit that after this outburst, the nameless fire clogging her chest had indeed dissipated quite a bit.

She began to think calmly.

Why did she care so much about that little brat?

She had actually asked herself this question more than once.

At first, she thought it was out of responsibility; Deng Tianxin was her only disciple, and when a teacher was away, it was only natural to discipline a student who snuck out to play.

Later, she thought it was habit. For the past year, she had held him while she slept, supervised his cultivation every day, and been driven to the brink of a blood-pressure spike by his antics, only to be amused by him moments later. She had grown accustomed to his presence, so it was only natural to feel out of sorts when he was suddenly gone.

But now, this reasoning was becoming increasingly untenable.

If it were just habit, why did her chest feel so stifled when she saw Liu Erlong kiss his cheek?

If it were just responsibility, why did she want to chop off Tang Yuehua's hand when she saw her pinching his face?

Habit didn't breed this level of possessiveness, and responsibility certainly didn't.

It wasn't as if she hadn't seen other women approach Yu Xiaogang. Back when she and Yu Xiaogang were in the throes of love, female students would often ask him theoretical questions.

She would stand by and watch, her heart completely untroubled; she had even helped one of those students pull up a chair.

Bibi Dong had always considered herself a generous person, at least when it came to matters of the heart.

So why, when it came to this little brat, did she become so petty and calculating?

Bibi Dong slowly lay back on the bed, staring at the mottled patterns on the ceiling.

A possibility suddenly occurred to her: perhaps the real reason wasn't complicated at all. It might be because Deng Tianxin was the only person who didn't treat her like a Saintess.

He called her "Auntie," "Old Witch," and "Old Hag." When he was angry, he dared to talk back; when he was happy, he dared to throw himself into her arms; when he was scared, he dared to hide behind her. He never cared about her status, her position, or her power.

Except, of course, when he was causing trouble.

But soon, Bibi Dong shook her head, dismissing the thought.

This reason was too similar to why she had fallen for Yu Xiaogang in the first place, and Deng Tianxin had already torn that veil to shreds with his analogy about a bowl of plain noodles.

She wasn't the type to forget the pain once the wound had healed; falling into the same pit once was enough. She would never fall into it a second time for the same reason.

Then why?

Bibi Dong tossed and turned in frustration, burying her face in the pillow.

There was no scent on the pillowcase, only a faint, metallic tang of blood.

It wasn't like back at the Saintess Palace, where her bed always held a faint, milky fragrance—the scent of Deng Tianxin.

That little brat liked to burrow into her arms when he slept, and once he was settled, he would bury his head in the crook of her neck. By the next morning, her pajamas would be soaked in that milky scent, impossible to wash away.

She would complain about it incessantly, calling him a puppy that hadn't been weaned yet, but every time she caught that scent, she could sleep with absolute peace of mind.

Thinking of how Deng Tianxin liked to nuzzle into people's arms when he slept, and then imagining Liu Erlong and Tang Yuehua fighting over who got to sleep with him every night...

Bibi Dong's eyes snapped open, the temper she had finally managed to suppress just moments ago flaring up once more.

Was that milky scent currently rubbing off onto those two women?

Was that little brat burying his head in the crook of Liu Erlong's neck right now?

Was he clutching at Tang Yuehua's lapels and refusing to let go?

She tossed and turned, rolled the quilt into a ball and kicked it to the foot of the bed, only to drag it back and pull it over herself again.

The bed frame creaked and groaned under her restless movements, sounding jarringly loud in the silent room.

A few shrill, miserable screams drifted in from the distance; some poor wretch was likely being hunted down.

Usually, Bibi Dong wouldn't even bat an eyelid at such sounds, but today, upon hearing the screams, she found herself thinking instinctively.

Could that little brat be in danger over in Heaven Dou City?

With Liu Erlong there, it shouldn't be the case, but could those two women really protect him when they were too busy pinching his cheeks and feeding him?