Chapter 33: The Grand Steward’s Discipline and a Familiar Foe

“Oh, Grand Steward,” Xianming sobbed, her voice thick with tears. “I, I, I was wrong. I… I’ll never dare to do it again, boohoohoo…”

“Xianming,” Youka’s voice was sharp. “What exactly did I instruct you to do?”

“Deal with the person, clean up the scene, then return immediately.”

“If you knew, why didn’t you follow orders?”

“I, boohoohoo… it wasn’t on purpose. It’s just that those soldiers arrived at such an inopportune moment.”

“And wasn’t that because you wasted time, trying to look cool in front of Count Orna? Otherwise, you would have retreated long ago. How would you have encountered the Star Cross Knights?”

“Boohoo…”

“Even if you encountered them, you actually took action yourself.”

“It, it was all because that Jakarin fellow was too… too arrogant. So I, I just wanted to test him. I didn’t expect him to be so weak. One kick, and he… he died…”

****

At this moment, the atmosphere in a certain room within Snow Lotus Palace was exceptionally heavy.

After her assault on Jakarin, Xianming had rushed back to Snow Lotus Palace, hoping to receive a reward from the Grand Steward.

However, what awaited Xianming was not a reward, but Youka’s chilling expression and an overwhelming, terrifying pressure.

Following an indescribable ordeal, the renowned Star God of Starfall Palace had utterly lost her former composure.

Each rope bit tightly into her skin, revealing her utter helplessness. Xianming’s clothes had been stripped away, leaving her in only her undergarments, and her delicate body was roughly bound by thick hemp ropes, woven from Youka’s power.

She knelt on a washboard, a posture of pure humiliation, her body trembling slightly as she endured immense pain.

Of course, Xianming wasn’t kneeling on an ordinary washboard. This was Youka’s specially crafted punitive washboard, its surface bristling with sharp barbs.

Each barb either pulsed with the power of lightning, exuded a paralyzing venom, or was imbued with a pain-amplifying curse. Kneeling on such a washboard, defenseless, the agonizing sensation Xianming experienced was beyond imagination.

Had Xianming not possessed such a formidable physique, she would have surely fainted long ago.

Yet, even with her resilience, this Star Godess cried out in sheer agony.

The white-haired young woman’s face was streaked with tears, and her clear eyes shimmered with unshed sorrow. Her hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, strands obscuring her trembling cheeks.

Though she attempted to maintain her dignity, the occasional whimpers escaping her tightly pressed lips betrayed the turmoil within her soul.

Youka sat silently on a nearby chair, one leg crossed over the other, propping her chin with a single hand. Her gaze, complex with emotion, fixed upon her disobedient subordinate.

“To defy orders for your own desires. What exactly were you thinking? If the Demonic God’s plan is affected, do you truly believe you can bear the responsibility?”

As she spoke, Youka manipulated a silver thread, picking up a bottle from the adjacent table.

She then dripped the orange liquid, hotter than molten lava, onto Xianming’s thigh, one drop at a time, causing the latter’s delicate body to convulse with pain.

“I, I’m sorry… boohoohoo…”

Trembling, Xianming bowed her head apologetically, her voice filled with grievance. “I know I was wrong. Next time, I… I truly won’t dare again…”

“Is that so?” Youka countered blandly.

Slowly, Youka lifted her foot, touching Xianming’s chin with her toe and gently raising her head.

Gazing into Xianming’s tear-filled face, Youka narrowed her eyes slightly, delivering a stern warning.

“If this happens again, I will personally oversee your meals for the next month.”

“Ah?!”

As the warning reached her ears, Xianming shuddered involuntarily, a fear from the depths of her soul slowly spreading within her.

At the same time, Miss Xianming hesitantly posed a question. “Then, Grand Steward, what about this time?”

“I’ll spare you this once. A simple punishment will suffice.”

“Ah?! Really?! Thank you, Grand Steward!”

However, just as Xianming felt a surge of relief, raising her head to express her gratitude to Youka, a spoon was abruptly shoved into her mouth with lightning speed, forcibly cutting off her words.

“Mmmph?!”

Xianming was momentarily stunned.

Upon seeing the small bowl Youka held in her right hand, filled with an unidentifiable, mosaic-like substance, Xianming’s eyes suddenly narrowed. A few desperate tears slowly trickled from the corners of her eyes.

“This time, just one bowl will do.”

As Youka’s words registered, Xianming’s taste buds were instantly assaulted by an indescribable shock, akin to the Big Bang itself.

Immediately afterward, Xianming’s face turned purple.

Her entire body slumped backward, collapsing completely.

After struggling and writhing for a moment, Xianming lay sprawled across the washboard, her delicate body convulsing incessantly.

White foam frothed from her mouth, and her lower body utterly gave way, creating a scene of absolute inundation.

Watching Xianming’s continuous convulsions, Youka’s eyes held not a trace of sympathy.

The Doll-like Maiden knew perfectly well that without punishment, these individuals would only grow more audacious.

While it might sound disrespectful, some aspects within Starfall Palace indeed gave Youka a considerable headache.

The Demonic God was an affirmant of desires. Consequently, everyone in Starfall Palace was utterly subservient to their own desires, acting on impulse.

Though this was the Demonic God’s will, sometimes… honestly… Youka truly felt that these so-called desires were a damn nuisance.

Driven by these desires, the high-ranking beings of Starfall Palace inexplicably performed actions that defied all expectations.

It was tolerable during ordinary times.

But it was terrifying when they acted recklessly at critical moments.

Once these desires seized control during a crucial juncture, they inevitably caused grave complications. For instance, during the 133rd trial, that battle maniac Rebecca directly abandoned the retreat and clashed head-on with the enemy’s main force.

The result was that the then-vulnerable Demonic God, unprotected, was struck and killed by a passing truck.

Or, as happened during the 397th trial, a certain individual, desperate for romance, abandoned their post, ultimately leading to the collapse of the defensive line. The Demonic God had to flee… and was then struck and killed by a truck in another accident.

In short, these desires were incredibly troublesome.

Although the Starfall Palace members possessed terrifying combat strength, in a sense, they were extremely difficult to control—a fact that had given Youka many headaches.

‘I must find a way to properly discipline them,’ she thought. ‘Otherwise, many more problems are bound to arise later.’

Gazing at Xianming’s twitching body, Youka murmured softly.

“What a bunch of fools…”

The Doll-like Maiden’s words were laced with disdain.

‘Perhaps being a little foolish isn’t so bad,’ she mused. ‘If my master truly reaches the final step… it might be easier for me to act if these fellows are a bit foolish.’

****

Indeed, Youka’s worries were not unfounded.

At this very moment, at the bottom of the Black Iron Valley, Jakarin’s body lay heavily amidst blood-stained rocks, which starkly contrasted with his pale face.

Pain and injury made every breath a struggle, yet his life force proved exceptionally tenacious.

After swaying between countless moments of unconsciousness and lucidity, Jakarin finally managed to regain his senses. Emerald-green holy energy gently rippled, slowly mending his fractured arm.

Then, Jakarin mustered all his strength, painstakingly pulling himself up from the ground.

His limbs trembled, and blood mixed with dirt streamed down his arms.

Clearly, despite surviving by virtue of his formidable life force and a priest’s blessing, Jakarin’s condition was absolutely dire.

Intense agony relentlessly assailed his mind from every part of his body.

However, Jakarin himself was too preoccupied to care about the pain. The moment his consciousness returned, only one thought consumed him: to report what had transpired here to His Majesty.

‘A Calamity Demon, and that white-haired girl just now…’

‘The Power of the Dark Abyss, combined with such terrifying physical prowess…’

‘The highest-tier, humanoid Calamity Demon… Why would such a monster suddenly appear? Haven’t such beings been extinct for ten thousand years?’

Doubt, unease, anxiety, and a host of other negative emotions surged through Jakarin’s mind.

Driven by this burgeoning anxiety, Jakarin laboriously straightened his body, preparing to rush back to the Capital of Truth for assistance.

However, just as Jakarin clutched his chest, panting incessantly, an unusual aura abruptly entered his sensory field.

Slowly raising his head, Jakarin looked forward with a grave expression.

“It’s you?”

At that moment, an unfamiliar figure had appeared within Jakarin’s line of sight.

It was a tall, elegant man, his vibrant red curly hair gently swaying in the breeze. His lips were painted with bright lipstick, highlighting his unique charisma.

His deep crimson eyes were exceptionally profound, holding an undeniable sharpness, as though capable of peering into the deepest corners of one’s heart. Paired with his vivid eyeshadow, he exuded an extraordinary, almost bewitching allure.

Fanning himself with a hand fan, the man’s lips curled into a faint, seductive smile.

“Oh, isn’t it Commander Jakarin? Why are you in such a sorry state now?”

Confronted by the man’s mocking words, Jakarin involuntarily bit his lip.

The man before him was all too familiar.

He was none other than the leader of the Noble Faction within the Theocracy, whose status was second only to the Holy King and on par with the High Priest.

He was also the individual Jakarin suspected of being Helibea’s behind-the-scenes supporter and the mastermind behind the attack on the Holy Royal Palace.

“Duke Weisco-Leipzig…”