That Woman's Lost Her Mind?

The man let out a scream as he crashed onto the street. A deep slash across his chest exposed bone, and he was already dead before he hit the ground.

The Fallen all along the street gaped in shock, scrambling to squeeze into the alleys on either side, wishing they could wedge themselves into the cracks in the walls.

"Happy and Forgetting Bibi."

With another cry, Bibi Dong leaped onto a rooftop and kicked down a fat man who hadn't managed to escape in time.

The man weighed at least three hundred pounds. He slammed into the ground with a dull thud, sending up a cloud of dust.

Bibi Dong landed right behind him. She spun the long blade in her hand, pointed its tip at the fat man's throat, then drove it down hard.

The blade pierced his throat. Blood splashed onto Bibi Dong's cuff, blooming like a dark-red flower against her white clothes. She pulled out the blade and flicked away the droplets of blood, as casually as shaking off a few drops of rain. The surviving Fallen had retreated to the far end of the street, pressed against the walls and not daring to make a sound, afraid they'd be the next to have their throats pierced.

"What the hell is that woman doing?" a bald Soul Master whispered to his companion from deep in an alley, his voice trembling uncontrollably.

He'd spent three years in Slaughter City and had seen more lunatics than there were stray dogs outside, but never anyone who fought like she had nothing to lose.

No testing the waters, no standoff, not even bothering to release her killing intent. She just silently hacked at them, then left, as if they weren't people but weeds blocking her path.

"Who knows?" His companion swallowed, staring fixedly at the white figure growing smaller in the distance. "I'm not going out today. That woman's seriously bad news."

Whispers rose and fell behind Bibi Dong, but no one dared to follow her.

They could only watch from the shadows as the white figure walked farther and farther away beneath the blood-red sky, a long blade dripping with blood in her hand. Wherever she went, she left bodies sprawled in disarray and the lingering stench of blood in the air.

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

In Slaughter City, curiosity was always the fastest road to death.

After venting her anger, Bibi Dong returned to her room and sat down on her bed.

Bibi Dong sat on the edge of the bed, the long blade in her hand already wiped clean and propped against the headboard.

The blood had been wiped from the blade, revealing its icy gleam once more, but her thoughts were nowhere near calm.

Bibi Dong lowered her head and stared at her hands. Her fingertips still tingled faintly with the sensation of killing.

She knew that sensation all too well. Every day in Slaughter City was the same, but today was different.

With every slash she'd struck today, it hadn't been her enemy's face that came to mind, but that little brat's infuriating grin.

When he'd said, "Joy of This Place, happy and forgetting Bibi," the corners of his mouth must have been turned way up, his eyes narrowed into two curved crescents, looking so smug his tail could've wagged right up to the sky.

Bibi Dong gritted her teeth, privately wishing she'd given Deng Tianxin a good spanking before leaving.

But she had to admit, after venting like that, the nameless fire lodged in her chest had indeed died down quite a bit.

She could finally think clearly.

Why did she care so much about that little brat?

She'd asked herself that question more than once.

At first, she'd thought it was because of responsibility. Deng Tianxin was her only disciple. When a teacher was away, a disciple who sneaked out to play deserved a scolding upon returning. It was only natural.

Later, she'd thought it was because of habit. For the past year, she'd held him while they slept every night, supervised his cultivation every day, and watched her blood pressure soar from his antics only to find herself laughing despite herself. She'd gotten used to having him around, so of course his absence felt strange.

But now, that explanation was getting harder and harder to believe.

If it was habit, why did her chest feel tight when she saw Liu Erlong kiss him on the cheek?

If it was responsibility, why had she wanted to chop off Tang Yuehua's hand when she saw her pinch his cheek?

Habit didn't make someone this possessive, and responsibility certainly didn't.

She'd seen other women approach Yu Xiaogang before. Back when she and Yu Xiaogang had still been passionately in love, a female student had once asked him for help with a theoretical question.

She'd stood by and watched, completely unruffled. She'd even helped the student bring over a chair.

Bibi Dong had always considered herself a generous person, at least when it came to love.

So why had she become so petty over this little brat?

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

A possibility suddenly occurred to her. Maybe the real reason was simple: Deng Tianxin was the only one who didn't treat her like a Saintess.

He called her Auntie, an old hag, and an old geezer. When he was angry, he dared to talk back to her; when he was happy, he dared to leap into her arms; when he was scared, he dared to hide behind her. He'd never cared about her identity, status, or strength.

Except when he got into trouble, of course.

But Bibi Dong quickly shook her head and rejected the idea.

That reason was too much like the one that had first made her fall for Yu Xiaogang, and Deng Tianxin had already used his bowl-of-yangchun-noodles analogy to tear that flimsy pretense to shreds.

She wasn't the sort to forget the pain once the wound had healed. Falling into the same pit once was enough. She'd never fall for the same reason a second time.

Then what was it?

Bibi Dong turned irritably, burying her face in the pillow.

The pillowcase didn't smell of anything, except for a faint trace of blood.

It wasn't like back in Saintess Palace, where her bed always carried a faint milky scent. That was Deng Tianxin's smell.

The little brat liked to burrow into her arms while he slept, then bury his head in the hollow of her shoulder. The next morning, her nightclothes would be soaked with that milky scent, and no amount of washing could get it out.

She complained endlessly, calling him an unweaned puppy, but whenever she caught that scent, she slept especially soundly.

Thinking about how Deng Tianxin liked to snuggle into other people's arms while he slept, and then remembering how Liu Erlong and Tang Yuehua fought every night over who got to sleep with him...

Bibi Dong's eyes flew open. The anger she'd finally managed to suppress surged up all over again.

So had that milky scent rubbed off on those two women by now?

Was that little brat also burying his head in Liu Erlong's shoulder?

Was he also clutching Tang Yuehua's clothes and refusing to let go?

She turned over, then turned over again, kicked the blanket into a heap at the foot of the bed, then dragged it back over herself.

The bed creaked under her restless tossing, the sound especially sharp in the silent room.

A few shrill screams came from far away. She had no idea which unlucky soul was being hunted down.

Usually, Bibi Dong wouldn't even lift an eyelid at such sounds, but today, when she heard the screams, she found herself wondering:

Could that little brat run into danger in Heaven Dou City, too?

With Liu Erlong there, it shouldn't happen. But could those two women really protect him when they were too busy pinching his cheeks and feeding him?