“You, Liu Qiaorou, what are you doing? Let go of me now! I’m warning you, release me, and I’ll let bygones be bygones. Otherwise—”
Mu Zhenfeng’s gaze turned icy as he instinctively prepared to strike. But then he noticed the faint bluish-black tint on the fingernails of Liu’s hand gripping his shoulder. Recalling what Wanqing had once told him, he hesitated, exercising caution.
Aware of her skill with poisons, he refrained from acting rashly and merely glared at her with a cold command.
“It seems you’re smart enough to realize that the slightest movement of my fingers could poison you. So? Tell them all to back off, or you’ll be left to bury your father.”
Seeing Mu Zhenfeng hesitate upon noticing the discoloration of her nails, Liu smirked and turned to him, her voice dripping with disdain. Then, with a triumphant glance, she eyed Wanqing, who had grown wary after her sudden move.
“You— Qing’er…” Mu Zhenfeng, troubled by Liu’s expression and Wanqing’s cautious reaction, turned helplessly to his daughter.
“Liu, I don’t know why you’ve framed my elder sister and poisoned her, but I’ll say this once: release my father, and I’ll let you go. Otherwise, don’t blame me for what happens next.”
Knowing Liu was not the true eldest daughter of the Liu family, Wanqing couldn’t even bring herself to address her properly. Instead, she fixed her with a cold stare.
“Me? Just give me the antidote for the needles and the ailments you inflicted on me, or I’ll kill him…”
Liu’s mind raced with her original plan—a scheme to poison her own daughter, win Mu Zhenfeng’s sympathy, mend their strained father-daughter bond, and simultaneously frame Wanqing, driving a wedge between them. Ideally, she’d have poisoned Wanqing, ensuring her disappearance while securing the antidote for herself.
But now, though her daughter and Mu Zhenfeng had reconciled, her scheme had been exposed, leaving her with nothing. Mu Zhenfeng’s disdain for her had only deepened. Left with no choice, she pressed the dagger harder against his throat, glaring at Wanqing.
“I, Mu Wanqing, have never feared threats in my life. I won’t give you the antidote. Considering what you did to my mother, the fact that you’re still breathing is mercy enough. As for my father—if you kill him, what will become of your daughter? Staying in the Marquis’s household would greatly benefit her future and marriage prospects.”
Wanqing’s words struck a nerve. Liu hesitated, her grip faltering slightly. She had once been a poor girl, dreaming only of her daughter’s happiness. But years in the noble household had taught her the value of status and power.
She had vowed to secure her daughter a marriage far grander than her own—perhaps even into the imperial harem. But knowing the loneliness of palace life, and aware of Wanqing’s betrothal to Sun Fengyu, she had instead pushed for her daughter to marry him.
Not only would it elevate her daughter’s status through the Empress’s family, but Sun Fengyu also treated her well. More importantly, it would strike a blow against the woman who had torn her marriage apart.
Yet now, this wretched girl—once meek—had returned with inexplicable medical and poison skills, thwarting her at every turn. Wanqing’s words had hit her weakest point, leaving her momentarily paralyzed.
In that instant of hesitation, Wanqing struck. A silver needle flashed through the air, piercing Liu’s shoulder and leg.
“You—!” Liu gasped, her face twisting in pain. Before she could react, Mu Zhenfeng seized the moment, striking her chest with a palm strike.
“You vile, heartless woman! For over a decade, I treated you well—even after you poisoned me, I spared you for our daughters’ sake. Yet you persisted in your cruelty, even poisoning your own flesh and blood! Now, I’ll send you to hell myself!”
The force of his blow sent Liu flying backward, crashing into a table before collapsing to the ground, blood spilling from her lips. As she struggled to rise, Mu Zhenfeng advanced, his palm radiating cold energy, aimed directly at her skull.
“Father—!” Wanqing called out, noticing Liu’s trembling fingers. Wary of her treachery, she stepped forward cautiously.
“Qing’er, don’t stop me. Today, I end this woman’s life before she brings more ruin to this household!”
Mu Zhenfeng’s rage burned cold as he raised his hand again.
“No! Father, please! I beg you!”
From the bed, Wanxia—still weak and confused—stumbled forward, clutching Mu Zhenfeng’s leg in desperation. Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded, “She’s still my mother… my own flesh and blood! Father, please… Mother, run! Go now!”
Liu, stunned by her daughter’s selfless plea despite her earlier disappointment, hesitated. Words failed her.
“Go! Hurry! Father, no—please!” Wanxia clung tighter, but Mu Zhenfeng dragged her forward, his fury unrelenting.
Seeing no other choice, Liu staggered to her feet, clutching her wounded chest, and stumbled toward the door.
Wanqing watched her retreat, fury simmering. “Think you can just walk away?”
A silver needle shot from her hand.
Liu, nearly at the threshold, froze as the needle struck her chest. Pain contorted her face, her skin turning deathly pale. Just as she thought her end had come, a shadowy figure appeared.
“Rou’er! What happened?”
A masked man in black caught her as she collapsed, his voice frantic. Without another word, he swept her into his arms and vanished into the night.
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