Chapter 37 The Hundred Herbs Apothecary

Shen Qianmo had lived through two eras and considered herself acquainted with many handsome and outstanding men. Without mentioning those from the distant past, even since arriving here, she had encountered quite a few: cold and proud as Meng Yuanheng, steadfast and upright as Feng Ze, serious and dignified as Lu Ziqing, gentle and refined as Xie Mingyu—each one handsome and remarkable. Yet none could match the beauty of the Master of the Wujiao Sect.

Indeed, Shen Qianmo thought that the word “beauty” was the most fitting way to describe him. But a man whose beauty reached such extremes inevitably carried a demonic allure, prone to becoming a source of calamity. Shen Qianmo had always kept her distance from such men.

The demonically handsome man parted his exquisite phoenix eyes slightly and glanced down at Shen Qianmo from above, frowning delicately. His beautifully curved, thin lips opened: “Third Protector, are you sure you haven’t captured the wrong person? Would Meng Yuanheng really be interested in someone like this?”

Upon hearing this, Shen Qianmo’s lips twitched. So, in the eyes of this flower-like sect master, she was clearly beneath notice. But was it her fault? Try being locked in the bottom of a ship for half a month without bathing or eating, and see how you fare.

She raised her eyes to glare at him, but upon seeing his near-perfect face and figure, sighed inwardly. Fine, even in such circumstances, he’d probably never look as wretched as she did now.

Wuhen bowed and replied, “Reporting to the Master, from our observations, Prince Xuan has shown exceptional care for the eldest daughter of the Duke’s household, especially in Brahma Sound Forest. I deliberately triggered the underground palace mechanism to test him, and Prince Xuan recklessly followed Miss Shen down into the palace, clearly revealing his feelings.”

Shen Qianmo cursed silently. So, her fall into the underground palace in Brahma Sound Forest was orchestrated by the Wujiao Sect. Truly, the sect was relentless.

“So, it seems you possess some skill, to make Meng Yuanheng—who is always cold and indifferent to women—look at you differently.” The demonic man sneered coldly, slowly descending the steps of the bath and coming to stand before Shen Qianmo. His slender index finger lifted her chin, examining her from side to side.

Shen Qianmo had ripped off her veil after boarding the ship. The air below was already stifling; wearing a veil would only make it worse for herself.

“Tsk tsk, I never thought Meng Yuanheng’s taste would be so poor.” As he caught sight of the scar below Shen Qianmo’s left cheek, the demonic man’s tone remained disdainful, but a flicker of complex emotion crossed his eyes. Though fleeting, Shen Qianmo noticed that besides surprise, there was also a hint of indignant resentment.

What reason did he have for such resentment? Shen Qianmo wondered. Regardless, she had had enough of his scornful gaze and arrogant remarks. She raised her hand and brushed his hand away, her voice cold: “To the Wujiao Sect, I am merely a hostage. What sort of ‘goods’ I am seems irrelevant to the Master, does it not?”

“A temper, too.” The demonic man smiled wickedly, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his hand. “So, do you also fancy Meng Yuanheng?”

“I’ve told you—it has nothing to do with you.” Shen Qianmo faced him calmly, her expression serene and her tone flat.

Does whether she likes Meng Yuanheng have anything to do with him?

“Nothing to do with me?” The demonic man laughed coldly, a hint of malice flashing in his eyes. “That’s because you don’t yet understand why I brought you here. Meng Yuanheng—I intend to leave him without kin or love, alone for a lifetime. So, even if the emperor himself has granted you a marriage, I will destroy your engagement.”

“Do you intend to kill me?” Shen Qianmo’s elegant brows knit together in confusion. “If so, wouldn’t that be simple? Why go to such lengths to abduct me?”

“Killing you would only make things easier for him.” The demonic man snorted. “I want him to watch as his beloved woman writhes beneath me, singing softly and moaning tenderly. I wonder if Meng Yuanheng would go mad seeing such a sight?”

He seemed already lost in his depraved fantasy, his eyes gradually shining with a bloodthirsty excitement.

A pervert, indeed! Shen Qianmo thought with some regret. So it turns out that heaven is fair—those who are too perfect often have flaws. This Wujiao Sect Master, before whom even women feel inferior, clearly had psychological issues.

Thinking this, Shen Qianmo cut off his reverie with a cold voice, “Master, you’re thinking too much. First, my relationship with Meng Yuanheng is nowhere near as deep as you imagine, and second, I would absolutely never share such intimacy with you. If you try to force me, I have ways to protect myself.”

The demonic man’s gaze darkened, his wickedly handsome face growing sullen. “Miss Shen, don’t speak too soon. We shall see. I estimate Meng Yuanheng will come searching for you in about half a month. But until then, I have no desire to face a flawed visage like yours.”

Seeing him repeatedly wipe his hands, Shen Qianmo already knew he was severely obsessed with cleanliness. His current words did not surprise her.

After a brief pause, he said to Wuhen, “Take her to the Hundred Herb Hall and hand her over to Old Duan. Make sure she’s presentable within half a month.”

Shen Qianmo felt her confidence nearly shattered by this demonic sect master. Was her appearance really so intolerable? And who exactly was this Old Duan of Hundred Herb Hall? Was he a plastic surgeon, able to give her a new face?

Hundred Herb Hall wasn’t far from the Jade Pool. Shen Qianmo followed Wuhen at a brisk pace. Along the way, they encountered the so-called “Thousand-Handed Poison Maiden,” Wuxia.

Upon seeing Wuhen, Wuxia greeted them with a coquettish smile.

“Third Brother, what does the Master require this time?” She glanced sidelong at Shen Qianmo, trailing behind, her eyes full of hostility.

Wuhen’s expression was as somber as ever. “The Master ordered her to be taken to Hundred Herb Hall.”

Hearing this, Wuxia’s eyes lit up. “I haven’t visited my master in ages. Third Brother, I’ll go with you.”

So Old Duan was Wuxia’s master. If Wuxia was known as the “Thousand-Handed Poison Maiden,” it followed that Old Duan must be a master of poisons.

Hundred Herb Hall was nestled in a valley on the island, surrounded by verdant trees and lush flowers, the entrance well concealed and difficult for outsiders to find. Shen Qianmo followed Wuhen and Wuxia through a dense forest, and soon they saw a row of wooden cottages built beside a stream. A rustic sign hung above the entrance, bearing the words “Hundred Herb Hall.” The sound of water murmured nearby, leaves danced in the breeze, and birds chirped—a scene of tranquil beauty.

Behind the cottages stretched a broad clearing, covered with all sorts of flowers and herbs, whose names Shen Qianmo couldn’t guess. An old man with white hair, dressed in coarse dark clothing, stood with his back to them, bent over, weeding the ground.

“Wuxia greets Master!” Wuxia’s usually lively face became solemn, as she bowed respectfully.

“Wuhen greets Hall Master Duan.” Wuhen’s demeanor was equally reverent.

Clearly, Old Duan held a high position within the Wujiao Sect, Shen Qianmo thought to herself.

The white-haired old man didn’t pause his work, still facing away. Shen Qianmo noticed Wuhen and Wuxia tense, holding their breath, wary and slightly nervous.

Could Old Duan be difficult to deal with?

Just as Shen Qianmo wondered, the old man suddenly turned around and, with a wave of his hand, flung a heap of dark objects at the spot where Wuhen and Wuxia stood.

The two were prepared, shifting to the side in perfect coordination, so the heap landed directly on Shen Qianmo, who stood behind them.

Looking down, Shen Qianmo felt instantly miserable.

A writhing mass of black, uneven earthworms tangled and crawling across her chest, squirming incessantly.