Belikov

Crash! The sharp sound of a shattering teacup suddenly rang out in the empty hall. Several shards of pale green porcelain scattered across the floor, the brownish tea soaking the fragments and wetting the solid wood floor. The soggy tea leaves and porcelain shards painted a scene of utter ruin on the ground.

One side of Du Yi's face was highly swollen. He had wrapped half of his face tightly in gauze, leaving only his eyes exposed. His eyes were heavily bloodshot, revealing a bone-deep malice and hatred.

His fingertips were still trembling, and the back of his hand, splashed by the tea he had just knocked over, was scalded a faint red.

Standing nearby, a woman stared at the broken porcelain scattered across the floor, her eyes twitching uncontrollably. This tea set was made of premium celadon presented as tribute from Quanzhou. It was a set of twelve, and breaking even one meant it could never be complete again. She usually couldn't bear to use it, and having finally brought it out this once, it was ruined by Du Yi's hands. Her heart bled with pain, yet she didn't dare utter a single word of complaint.

“Du Ling! That bastard, how dare he humiliate me like this!”

Du Yi's roar squeezed out from his throat as the teacups and candlesticks on the table shattered on the floor one after another. Soon, there was barely any space left to stand on the floor, and within moments, there was nothing left on the table for him to smash.

The woman clenched her fingers tightly inside her sleeves, her nails digging into her palms. In her heart, she repeatedly cursed the long-deceased Madame Lin and her son, Du Ling. Why was her son still allowed to survive? Why was the first thing he did upon returning from his long journey to beat her own child into such a state?

“That little bastard... why did he suddenly return to the Central Continent... What right does he have... What right does he have to lay a hand on my Yi'er...”

Du Yi panted heavily, his chest rattling like a broken bellows. The woman stepped forward slowly, taking out a silk handkerchief to carefully wipe the wound on his palm. The moment the handkerchief touched the wound, Du Yi gasped sharply in pain. She hastily withdrew her hand, then gently stepped forward again, her movements as light as dusting off fine porcelain.

“My son, please do not make yourself ill with anger...”

She lowered her voice, speaking with a pleasing, submissive softness as she rubbed his back to soothe him, while carefully choosing her words. “The Master will surely stand up for you and seek justice. Du Ling's arrogance won't last long.” But the moment she said the words “the Master won't ignore this,” her confidence instantly vanished.

A deep-seated dread flickered in her eyes. Whenever she recalled Du Ran's almost inhuman temperament, she couldn't stop shivering.

Du Yi's body stiffened slightly.

He heard the hesitation in his mother's voice and caught the deep-seated dread in her eyes.

That sliver of fear was like a fine needle, piercing through the malice in his eyes and quickly spreading to fill his pupils. But in the next instant, this fear transformed into a wave of twisted pleasure that swept through his heart.

“Du Ling, so what if you are full of pride? Madame Lin has long since perished. Over a decade has passed, and her bones have likely turned to dust. Her memorial tablet is placed in the most remote corner of the Du family ancestral hall. Every year during the Qingming Festival, not even a single stick of incense or paper money is offered to her.”

“The Lin family has also been finished for a long time. Completely finished. The last person surnamed Lin died long ago in some unknown dungeon. In this world, you are the only one left with the Lin family blood flowing through your veins.”

“To the old man, you are nothing but the medicinal catalyst to prolong his life. You are just a scapegoat to die in his place!”

A twisted, pleased smile slowly curled on Du Yi's lips. In the old man's eyes, what bullshit blood relations or fatherly love? None of it could compare to his own decaying body.

“So what if you are the eldest son of the first wife, with deep cultivation and abundant scholarly energy? The fact that the Lin family blood flows through your veins dooms you to a life you can never escape, where even death is a luxury you cannot seek.”

He took a deep breath to suppress his chaotic thoughts and calm himself. Reaching out, he gripped his mother's shoulder, his fingers sinking deep into the fabric with astonishing force.

“Go see Father,” he said, each word deliberate and heavy as a driven nail. “Tell him this: Du Ling refused to return home, struck and injured me, and warned the Du family never to look for him again.”

He paused, staring intently into his mother's reddened, tearful eyes, locking her in his gaze.

“Remember, report exactly like this. Not a single word is to be changed. Do not add any extra emotional tones. Do you understand?”

The woman's lips trembled uncontrollably. In her heart, she wanted to ask: You suffered such severe injuries and humiliation, with a whip scar that nearly disfigured your face, and Du Ling's insolent rants—are we really not going to mention a single word of that? But meeting Du Yi's cold, ruthless gaze, she swallowed her questions back down.

“My son...” She ultimately couldn't help but probe. “Are we really only saying this? Your injuries...”

A flash of impatience crossed Du Yi's eyes.

“If you don't want to live a peaceful life, feel free to run your mouth.”

His voice wasn't loud, but every word felt like bone-chilling shards of ice. The woman felt a sudden chill run down her spine. Daring not say another word, she lowered her head and hurriedly left the hall.

Standing alone in the hall, Du Yi stared at the broken porcelain on the floor as he watched his mother's retreating back.

In the old man's eyes, everything had to be efficient and simple. The complex emotions and shifting thoughts of others would only annoy him. And Du Yi knew all too well the consequences of annoying the Master. Du Yi closed his eyes, cutting off the chaotic thoughts in his mind.

His mother was not the only concubine in the manor, nor was he the only child. His mother's looks were mediocre and her family background was ordinary; her ability to rise from a low-ranked concubine to an equal wife was never because of the Master's favoritism, but simply because she was useful enough. If you were useful, you stayed; if you lost your utility, you could be replaced at any time.

Intense jealousy wrapped around Du Yi's heart once more.

He was jealous of Du Ling's years of free travel; jealous that Du Ling, as the legitimate eldest son, could cultivate such dense scholarly energy with the scholarly energy seed bestowed by the Du family ancestors.

He no longer needed to harbor even a shred of hope for the Scholarly Heart seed. Once Du Ling stepped back onto the Central Continent, the Master would squeeze dry everything he owned. Even the thin trace of Lin family blood in his body would be thoroughly exploited.

Thinking of the Master's cold and ruthless methods, Du Yi slowly closed his eyes.

He knew that everything he was doing right now was being watched by the old man's people. This included everything that had happened when he went to find Du Ling, as well as his violent outburst of smashing the teacups. All of it would be seen clearly by the old man's hidden eyes.

The old man knew everything he did, and he knew that the old man knew. He had to send a signal to the old man that he was a useful tool.

He had to let the old man know that he was just a simple-minded, ordinary person trying to survive. Only in this way would the old man find him easy to use. The easier he was to use, the less likely he would be replaced.

Du Yi no longer knew how many layers of masks he wore. These masks had already become a part of his life, and he could never take them off again.