Chapter 56: Life And Death 1
Meng Hao’s expression remained calm on the surface, but deep within, his thoughts churned like storm-tossed seas. As he sat silently across from the woman in green robes, her faint, mysterious smile unnerved him more than a blade held to his throat.
She hadn’t spoken yet, hadn’t made a single threatening gesture—but her presence alone twisted the atmosphere in the carriage like a vice around his heart.
Who is she? he thought, eyes narrowed in subtle scrutiny. Why has she come here... and why me?
From the moment she had entered the carriage, he had sensed something was wrong. Her movements were too fluid, her gaze too calm. Someone to whom life and death were trivial games. Meng Hao tried to peer into her cultivation realm, but it was like staring into a vast, bottomless abyss. No fluctuations of spiritual energy, no outward pressure—just the unnerving stillness of power that needed no announcement.
Meng Hao’s thoughts began to spin in panic beneath his controlled exterior.
Is she here because of lust? Could it be that, like the others, she’s drawn to me by some charm-related reaction? Or is there something more dangerous at play—something deeper, more sinister?
Whatever it is, he concluded grimly, this situation is bad. Very bad.
His instincts—those not shaped through spiritual trials or combat, but sharpened by the cold cunning of a transmigrated soul seasoned in the unpredictable chaos of two lifetimes—screamed at him with a primal urgency. It wasn’t the warning of a cultivator sensing hostile intent in the air. No, this was deeper... more ancient.
Meng Hao felt like a lamb seated before a predator too refined to salivate. A predator who wouldn’t lunge immediately—but instead might gaze for a while, watching, considering, perhaps even admiring the beauty of its prey before deciding whether to devour it or simply toy with it for sport.
Inside the confined space of the carriage, silence reigned. But it wasn’t the tranquil kind. It was thick—suffocating. An invisible pressure curled around his body like chains of air, tightening with every passing moment. It was as if the very atmosphere had taken on weight, settling onto his chest, squeezing his lungs, making each breath a conscious, labored effort.
A faint sheen of sweat formed on his brow.
Breathe. Slowly.