Chapter 205: Steamed Beans
Inside the restaurant, the atmosphere was frozen solid.
Zhu Zhuqing gazed at Zhu Zhuyun, her eyes still devoid of any emotion.
There was no anger, no fear, no sorrow.
Only a dead, absolute stillness.
That stillness made Zhu Zhuyun’s heart give a sudden, violent lurch.
She looked at the younger sister standing before her—the girl she had grown up with since childhood.
She looked at that face, bearing a distinct resemblance to her own; she looked at those eyes—once brimming with stubbornness and yearning—now left with nothing but a desolate emptiness.
Zhu Zhuyun’s throat tightened ever so slightly.
My foolish little sister...
She murmured the words silently in her heart.
I gave you your chance; you have no one but yourself to blame.
Had you simply fled, found a place to hide, and lived out the rest of your days in quiet obscurity, that would have been the end of it.
But why did you have to seek out Dai Muibai again?
Since you chose to enter this struggle, it was destined to become a battle to the death—one of us must fall!
This is the rule that has governed the Star Luo Imperial Family for millennia: only one may survive!
It is a tragedy ordained by fate!
Zhu Zhuyun bit her lip and took a deep breath.
From within her spatial soul tool, she retrieved an exquisite short sword.
The blade measured roughly a foot in length; slender and elegant, its hilt was inlaid with a pale violet gem that glowed with a faint, ethereal light beneath the dim lamps. The edge was razor-sharp, radiating a chilling, steely glint.
She placed the short sword gently upon the wooden table.
"Zhuqing."
Her voice was soft, tinged with a complex mix of emotions: "For the sake of the sisterhood we once shared, I won’t make things difficult for you."
She paused, then spoke each word with deliberate weight: "You had best look out for yourself."
Zhu Zhuqing’s gaze fell upon the short sword.
Her eyes froze instantly.
That short sword... she recognized it.
It was a gift their mother had given them when they were children. A matching pair—two blades in all—one for her and one for Zhu Zhuyun.
Their names were engraved upon the hilts—gifts their mother had placed into their hands personally.
She remembered that day when her mother held them close and said, "Yun’er, Qing’er—you are sisters. You must always cherish and love one another."
Back then, they were still young; they did not yet understand the "rules of the Star Luo Imperial Family," nor did they grasp the meaning of a "life-and-death struggle."
In those days, their love for one another was truly genuine.
But now...
Zhu Zhuqing reached out her hand.
Her hand was trembling slightly.
She picked up the short sword.
It felt icy cold to the touch, though the hilt still retained the lingering warmth of Zhu Zhuqing’s palm.
She took a deep breath.
Slowly, she raised the short sword.
She brought it up to her fair, slender neck.
The blade pressed against her skin—a piercing, bone-chilling cold.
She closed her eyes.
With a forceful slash—!
Splat—!
A flash of silver light!
Blood gushed forth!
The warm liquid trickled down her neck, staining the collar of her robes crimson, soaking her chest, and dripping onto the wooden table.
Zhu Zhuqing’s body gave a faint shudder.
Before her eyes, a series of images began to surface.
It was the panoramic review of her life flashing before her eyes.
In her childhood, within the Star Luo Imperial Palace, she had met Dai Mubai for the very first time.
Back then, she was still a child; she did not understand the concept of a "fiancée"—she simply thought that the young boy had a very handsome smile.
Later, as she slowly matured, she gradually came to realize that this young boy was the sole pillar of support she would have for the rest of her life.
She had believed that they would strive together, grow stronger together, vie for that coveted position together, and—together—survive.
But the reality was that he ran away.
Time and time again.
Whenever danger struck, he was always the first to flee.
It had been that way in their childhood, and it remained that way now.
It never changed.
The scene shifted.
She saw herself joining Shrek Academy—that dilapidated, humble little school. Dean Flender, Dai Mubai, Oscar, Ma Hongjun, Xiao Wu, Ning Rongrong... and Tang San.
In those days, she had believed she had found a new home.
But the reality was that this home, too, soon fell apart.
The scene shifted once more.
She saw Blue Tyrant Academy; she saw Liu Erlong and Tang Yuehua; she saw the disciples of the Clear Sky Sect. She thought: Surely, things would be peaceful this time?
But reality was cruel: the Clear Sky Sect had been annihilated; its disciples had been captured; Liu Erlong had departed; and Flanders, too, had been taken prisoner.
She was left utterly alone.
Finally, the scene froze.
It centered on a golden figure.
Jiang Li’er.
She exuded high spirits and a dashing, heroic grace. Her long golden hair fluttered in the wind, and her crimson eyes burned like twin flames.
She grinned broadly, revealing two rows of pearly-white teeth—a smile as radiant as the sun itself.
With the cultivation of a Soul Emperor, she had effortlessly suppressed a powerhouse of the Soul Saint rank—someone like Zhao Wuji.
With the might of a Titled Douluo, she had made a stunning debut at the Continental Elite Tournament.
What magnificent bearing!
What glorious honor!
Within Zhu Zhuqing’s heart, an indescribable surge of envy and longing arose.
If only... if only I, too, possessed such power...
If only I, too, could be like her—the master of my own destiny...
How wonderful that would be...
Alas...
Alas, she would have no such chance.
Her body slowly slumped forward.
Collapsing onto the wooden table.
Thud—
A dull, heavy sound.
Her eyes remained wide open.
Yet, their light was slowly fading away.
Blood flowed ceaselessly from her neck, staining the wooden table crimson, staining the floor crimson, and pooling into a small puddle beneath her.
The short dagger slipped from her grasp.
Clang—
It fell into the pool of blood, sending tiny droplets splashing into the air.
...
Zhu Zhuyun stood motionless, gazing down at her sister’s corpse.
There was no smile upon her face.
No joy of victory.
Only a complex, heavy silence.
She was dead.
The sister who had grown up alongside her since childhood—she was dead.
Dead by her very own hand.
Zhu Zhuyun’s heart was torn; she knew not whether she should feel joy or sorrow.
Joy?
At last, a rival had been eliminated; she could now securely claim her place as Crown Princess—and, in the future, as the Empress of the Star Luo Empire.
Sorrow?
She was, after all, her own flesh and blood—a sibling born of the same womb.
She bent down. From the pool of blood, she picked up the short sword.
Blood still clung to the blade—warm and sticky.
She drew out a silk scarf and, little by little, meticulously wiped it clean.
Then, she returned the short sword to her storage soul tool.
She turned around and looked at Dai Weisi.
In her eyes, all traces of emotion had now been replaced by calm.
"Dai Weisi."
Her voice was soft: "It’s your turn."
Dai Weisi gave a slight nod.
His gaze fell upon the figure on the ground—curled up tight and trembling uncontrollably.
Dai Mubai.
In this moment, where was even a shred of his princely bearing?
He was covered in wounds, his face a mass of bruises, and blood still stained the corners of his mouth.
He lay curled on the ground, shivering violently, his eyes filled with nothing but terror and pleading.
He had just witnessed Zhu Zhuqing’s death with his own eyes.
The instant that short sword slashed across her throat, his heart had nearly stopped beating.
Now, it was his turn.
As he watched Dai Weisi approach him, his terror instantly reached its absolute peak!
He struggled desperately, scrambling toward Dai Weisi’s feet; he threw his arms around his brother’s leg and wept hysterically: "Brother! Big Brother! Please, let me go!"
His voice was hoarse and trembling: "Spare my life! Zhu Zhuqing is dead—I have no chance left! I beg you! Big Brother!"
Dai Weisi looked down at him, his eyes filled with nothing but disgust and disdain.
He lifted his foot.
And kicked him away!
"Get lost!"
Dai Mubai went tumbling through the air from the force of the kick, crashing into the wall with a dull, heavy thud.
He slumped to the ground, groaning in agony. But he paid no mind to the pain; scrambling back to his feet, he crawled toward Dai Weisi once more.
"Brother! Please spare me! This time, I promise I’ll go far, far away! You’ll never see my face again!"
His tears and snot ran together, smearing his entire face. "I promise! I swear it! I beg of you!"
Gazing at his wretched state, Dai Weisi couldn’t suppress a scoff.
"Do you really think you still have the right to beg me?"
He crouched down, fixing his gaze on Dai Mubai’s terror-stricken face.
"You pathetic waste—you aren’t even worthy to be my opponent."
Dai Mubai nodded frantically.
"Yes, yes! I’m a waste! I’m not worthy of anything! Brother, you are a man of great magnanimity; just treat me like a fart—let me go and let me pass!"
Watching his groveling, servile demeanor, Dai Weisi felt nothing but utter contempt.
This is my younger brother?
This is the man vying with me for the throne?
It’s truly laughable.
Just as he was about to speak, Zhu Zhuyun, who had been standing nearby, suddenly stepped forward.
She stared at Dai Mubai, her eyes brimming with disgust.
Especially when she recalled the words he had uttered moments ago.
What did he mean by, "Zhu Zhuqing is dead, so now I can be safe and sound"?
Zhuqing was his fiancée!
She had chosen to enter this brutal struggle solely to fight for that position alongside him!
And now that she was dead, all he could think about was saving his own skin?!
It was absolutely shameless!
The more Zhu Zhuyun thought about it, the angrier she became.
She stepped forward.
She raised her foot.
And aimed a vicious kick straight at Dai Mubai’s crotch!
"Aaaah—!!!"
Dai Mubai let out a piercing, agonizing shriek!
His scream—sounding just like a pig being slaughtered—reverberated throughout the entire restaurant!
Clutching his crotch, he curled up into a tight, writhing ball of agony, rolling helplessly across the floor.
Zhu Zhuyun withdrew her foot and glared at him coldly: "If you’re still a man, you should know that once a move is made, there is no turning back!"
Her voice was as cold as a blade: "Don’t tell me you have no designs on the throne! If you had no designs on it, why did you enter the Soul Master Tournament? Why did you step out into the public eye to make a name for yourself?!"
"Since you chose to enter this struggle, then do not fear death!"
She paused, enunciating every word clearly: "Besides, these very rules were established by your White Tiger Clan!"
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