Chapter 75

Yang Yi no longer paid attention to those four people; she crossed her arms, propped her chin on them, and sank deep into thought. When she finally returned to reality, she found the reception hall empty—they had been taken away by Liu Siyuan.

Not long after, Liu Siyuan returned, standing silently behind her, waiting for her next instruction.

“Those words were pretty bold, weren’t they?” Yang Yi smiled. “When you meet people like that, if you don’t scare them, it’ll never end.”

“It’s not enough to just scare them—even if you truly did what you threatened, everything would unfold exactly as you wish,” Liu Siyuan said calmly.

Yang Yi glanced at him in surprise and joked, “What, are you encouraging me to abuse my power?”

“I think you restrain yourself too much in using your power.”

Liu Siyuan replied in a flat tone, “Compared to most people—those who suddenly got lucky, schemed their way to power, or just awakened—you’d find most would seize this rare authority to gain personal benefits or indulge their desires. But you, relatively speaking, have restrained yourself to… ” He paused, momentarily at a loss for words.

“I’ve only seen this kind of restraint in very few people, and every one of them had lofty ideals, grand goals, or unyielding principles—and most held high positions.”

“Sigh—” Yang Yi nearly blushed. “If you keep going, I’ll be utterly ashamed.”

After a few casual remarks, Yang Yi said, “Those four people… ” She frowned, as if their very presence disgusted her. “Watch them. Don’t let them use my name to bully others or cause trouble—I’m sure, given their nature, they’ll do exactly that.”

Liu Siyuan agreed and left. The reception hall was left alone with her again.

Silence filled the room. Yang Yi slowly relaxed, her gaze unfocused, fixed on the massive crater she had smashed outside the glass door.

Of course, she had done it on purpose—just to make a statement. Now, looking back, it seemed unnecessary, even childish.

She could have stayed away entirely, letting Liu Siyuan handle everything without her involvement, without anger, effortlessly and neatly, making the family act exactly as she wanted.

But some psychological impulse—perhaps vengeance—made her want to see their faces crumble before her, to witness their fear, to watch these people who had once been so powerful, imposing, and terrifying now reveal their hollow, selfish, foolish nature before her.

She wanted to see them beg on their knees, plead desperately, weep uncontrollably.

She could easily make it happen now.

But when she saw them truly display that shallow, selfish, foolish demeanor, she found it utterly boring—and instantly lost all desire to watch them break down and cry, so she dismissed them cleanly.

No sense of triumph after revenge. No satisfaction. Only emptiness.

What’s the point? Using status, power, strength to bully ordinary people, to crush fools. Even if they weep and beg, it’s only submission to power itself—not true reflection, not remorse for the crimes they committed against a little girl.

Some people only regret getting caught, never reflecting on what they did.

What’s done is done, forever unchangeable. What meaning does revenge hold beyond a fleeting psychological thrill?

She sighed wearily, stood up, and prepared to return to her dormitory during this rare moment of leisure—she’d been too tense lately.

As she rose, she saw Yang Ze run back alone. In the distance, Liu Siyuan hurried toward him, trying to stop him.

“I… I have something I need to say to you alone,” Yang Ze gasped to Yang Yi.

Yang Yi waved at Liu Siyuan. “Let him in.” Liu Siyuan shot Yang Ze a fierce look and withdrew.

“Speak,” Yang Yi said, her gaze cold as she looked at her cousin.

“Yang Yi… I know you’re angry. You suffered a lot as a child…” Clearly, these words felt foreign to him, but he’d clearly rehearsed them in his mind—now they came out surprisingly coherent. “When we first arrived, I felt we shouldn’t have treated you like this… but Mom, Dad, and my sister kept nagging, and I just thought it was like before… so I slipped into it without realizing…”

Yang Yi listened, smiling—as if watching a ridiculous performance.

“…But think about it—if I hadn’t opposed marrying you off to that idiot back then, now…”

Yang Yi’s expression changed. Her smile faded. Her eyes grew dark and heavy, like a stormy sky pressing down before a tempest.

The air in the reception hall tightened. Countless microscopic dust particles trembled silently, resonating with the tense atmosphere.

Yang Ze was an ordinary person—he couldn’t detect the rapid fluctuations of dark matter, nor was his nervous system sensitive enough to notice the shift in ambiance.

“…That night, you begged me not to buy a new house, or else Mom and Dad would trade you for the bride price—the money would cover the down payment… How much I cared for you! You’re my cousin, my little cousin—how could I ever do such a thing…?” Yang Ze put on a show of sincerity.

The memory of that day was forcibly dragged into the present. Yang Yi’s breath grew sharp and ragged.

She saw the girl, under seventeen, standing helplessly in the corner, listening as her “family” in the living room openly discussed how to marry her off to the rich town idiot’s son, using the bride price to pay for a new apartment in the city. Their only son had grown up and needed a wife; in this era, no new apartments meant no good match.

They didn’t care she was standing right there—as if they were discussing not a person, but a pig fattened for slaughter, wondering what price it would fetch.

She saw that girl walk out, dazed, wander by the river for a while, then return.

When her cousin crept in at midnight, this time she didn’t fight. She whispered her plea: don’t buy the apartment in the city, don’t marry her off to the idiot.

She wanted to go to school. She wanted to take the college entrance exam.

In the dark, her cousin stared at her, eyes blazing like twin flames. He slapped his chest and promised cheerfully—then his hands slipped beneath her quilt.

“…Little cousin, I didn’t understand back then. I bullied you just to tease you… But I’ve always cared for you deeply…”

Yang Yi snapped back to reality, staring at the man before her, stunned by his sheer audacity.

She slowly stood, her gaze filled with disbelief, her voice equally incredulous: “How dare you come to me? How stupid are you? How short-sighted? For a sliver of invisible gain, you knowingly came to me after I awakened my ability—after I could kill you a million times—and still dared to bring this up?”

Yang Yi didn’t just look astonished—she was almost impressed. She simply couldn’t comprehend how someone so foolish, so shameless, could exist.

“What gave you the right to think I’d let you profit easily from my power? What made you so confident I’d honor our pathetic kinship and give you everything you want? Is your brain filled with shit? After what you did to me, do you still expect me to care about family? You’re pitifully stupid!”

The air in the room suddenly froze. Not just the dust particles—everything trembled: the sofa, the coffee table, the hanging paintings, the walls, the floor, the entire room—all vibrating at a faint, uniform frequency.

Yang Ze finally noticed the change in his surroundings. By the time he realized something was wrong, he was trapped like an insect in amber, frozen in the air, unable to move.

His face turned gradually ashen.