Having obtained her answer, Song Yao turned to look at Moqi and said very magnanimously, “Alright, I won't overcharge you. Let's call it nineteen lashes.”
Moqi: “?”
Was this what she called not overcharging him?
Song Yao counted the people again. “There are five people here. Rounding it up, let's call it a hundred lashes for you.”
Moqi: “?”
The veins on his temples throbbed violently, his knuckles turning white from clenching. The fury in his chest surged to his throat, but he forced it back down.
Ignoring how terrible his expression was, Song Yao turned to look at the Beiyao Sect deacon and asked patiently, “What about yesterday? How many lashes did you give them yesterday?”
The Beiyao Sect deacon had absolutely no idea what they were talking about, and he became even more bewildered. “Ye-yesterday... There are too many people on Wangyun Peak, so this subordinate really can't remember the exact number...”
“Alright then.”
Song Yao raised her hand to interrupt him very magnanimously, her tone airy. “Then yesterday will count as a hundred lashes too. Adding it all up, that makes two hundred in total.”
After saying that, she even turned around and very kindly asked for Moqi's opinion: “What do you think? Is that acceptable?”
Moqi: “?”
Was she provoking him?
When Moqi didn't answer, Song Yao took it as silent agreement. Under everyone's bewildered gazes, she slowly walked over to Ming Ran and squatted down.
Ming Ran stared up blankly.
Silhouetted against the light, the outline of the person in front of her was so soft it seemed to glow, save for a pair of eyes that were bright and gentle.
She reached out and gently brushed aside Ming Ran's sweat-soaked bangs. With a slightly cool palm, she gently patted the top of her head and asked calmly, “Do you still have the strength to get up, Little Ming Ran?”
Seeing such a scene after reaching the absolute limit of pain and despair, Ming Ran dithered for a moment. She suddenly felt like she might be dying, and that heaven was blessing her before her death by sending a deity from a temple to guide her.
But the person in front of her was clearly not a deity; she was her master.
She forced herself to stay conscious, grit her teeth, and pushed herself up from the ground using her blood-streaked arms.
Though the wounds on her back throbbed with sharp pain from the movement, she only let out a muffled groan. Her spine remained straight as an arrow, and she replied hoarsely, “I can, Master. I'm fine.”
Song Yao's eyes crinkled as a faint smile rippled through them.
She stood up along with her, retrieved two lustrous healing pills, and stuffed them into Ming Ran's mouth without a second thought, using her thumb to wipe away the bead of blood at the corner of her lips. “Take a moment to recover.”
With that, she turned sideways, looked at the Beiyao Sect cultivator who had been executing the punishment behind Ming Ran, and held out her hand. “Give me the whip.”
She was far too calm and composed. Standing there, even though she had done nothing, she completely dominated the atmosphere.
The cultivator's mind went blank, and he subconsciously handed the whip over.
Only after Song Yao took it did he snap out of it. His face turned stark white, and he barked sharply, “What... what do you think you're doing?!”
Song Yao ignored him. She weighed the heavy whip in her hand. The tip of the whip was still stained with wet blood, carrying a faint metallic tang.
She turned and stuffed the long whip into Ming Ran's hand, then glanced at Moqi not far away. “However they whipped you just now, whip him back the exact same way. Two hundred lashes, not a single one less.”
She looked at Ming Ran's pale face and asked, “Can you do it?”
A clamor broke out among the crowd at her words.
The Nine Saints Hall disciples stared at their Seventh Senior Sister in utter shock.
Whip whom?
Moqi?!
He was Feng Qing's right-hand man!
They were currently prisoners of the Beiyao Sect. To turn around and beat the second-in-command of the Beiyao Sect—were they out of their minds?
The faces of the Beiyao Sect cultivators changed dramatically. The deacon was the first to react, stepping forward as he bellowed in a harsh voice, “Presumptuous! What do you think you are? How dare you humiliate Elder Moqi like this! You truly don't know the height of the heavens or the depth of the earth!”
“Men, seize this wicked girl! This old man will teach her a proper lesson today!”
Several nearby cultivators moved in response. Their spiritual energy instantly surged, followed by the metallic ring of swords unsheathing one after another.
Song Yao remained motionless, looking at Moqi with a half-smile.
Moqi: “...All of you, stop!”
With a thunderous roar, his powerful spiritual energy shook the surrounding pine branches, sending a shower of broken leaves to the ground.
The Beiyao Sect cultivators were forced to halt, looking at him in utter bewilderment. “Elder Moqi?”
Moqi's face was dark with rage. He glared viciously at Song Yao, grit his teeth, and took two steps forward. To everyone's shock, he actually sat down cross-legged on the spot, his robe sweeping across the blood-stained stone slab. His voice sounded as if it were squeezed through his teeth: “None of you are allowed to interfere! Violators will be punished according to sect rules! If you're going to whip me, do it quickly. Stop dawdling.”
The Beiyao Sect cultivators were even more shocked. They looked at him, wanting to speak but stopping themselves, not daring to move a muscle.
Ming Ran's hand holding the whip trembled slightly. She looked up at Song Yao. “Master... really?”
Song Yao stood to the side with her arms crossed. “Hasn't he already prepared himself? If your body can't take it, we can have someone else do it. But opportunity knocks only once. There aren't many chances to beat Elder Moqi, you know.”
Moqi: “...”
What on earth did this wretched girl take him for?
“I can do it!”
Fearing that Song Yao would think she couldn't handle it, Ming Ran immediately straightened her back and blurted out.
The panic and worry in her eyes vanished instantly, replaced by the grievances and anger that had accumulated over the past several days.
Taking a deep breath, she gripped the handle of the whip tightly and walked over step by step to stand before Moqi.
Recalling the humiliation of these past few days and the deacon's arrogant face just now, she whipped her wrist. The long whip cut through the air, carrying a fierce wind.
“Crack!”
The crisp sound of the whip echoed through the mountain valley, startling the black crows roosting by the cliffside into flight.
A deep whip mark visibly appeared on Moqi's back, tearing open his flesh.
He let out a muffled groan, not expecting this girl to still be able to exert such force when she was already so heavily injured!
Lash after lash fell, delivered with every ounce of her strength.
The deacon stood by, sweat dripping from his forehead in anxiety. Several times he wanted to step forward and stop it, only to be forced back by the fierce glares Moqi shot at him.
For a time, the only sound left on Wangyun Peak was the continuous crack of the whip slicing through the air.
Song Yao stood lazily to the side, her gaze resting on Ming Ran.
The old wounds on Ming Ran's back had long since torn open from her movements, blood seeping through her clothes. Her knuckles holding the whip handle were pale, and her body swayed slightly with every lash she delivered. She was clearly on the verge of exhaustion, holding on purely through sheer willpower.
Song Yao lowered her eyes in thought for a moment.
The Nine Saints Hall had an unconventional body-refining technique. It required one to circulate their energy when the physical body was exhausted to the absolute limit and the bones and muscles were pushed to their brink. By using the pain to force open blocked meridians, it could elevate one's control over their body to a whole new level.
An opportunity for a breakthrough that others could only dream of had presented itself perfectly right now.
With a slight flick of her wrist, an extremely faint trace of spiritual energy silently entered Ming Ran's back. At the same time, she transmitted her voice directly into Ming Ran's ears, speaking at a calm, steady pace as she casually guided her: “Sink your mind into your dantian, and circulate your energy along the meridians of your spine. Hold on just a little longer, alright?”
Ming Ran's wrist froze for a fraction of a second before she immediately understood.
She bit her tongue to force herself awake, immediately adjusting her breathing according to the method Song Yao had taught her, gradually drawing her scattered spiritual energy back into place.
The pain in her bones and muscles instantly doubled, feeling as if countless fine needles were stabbing into the marrow. Even her knuckles grew numb, and she could barely hold onto the long whip.
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