Chapter 281: Love of Punishment (5K)

In the silent space, Herbert and the Ash Bishop stood facing each other, surrounded by an endless void that seemed to keep expanding outward.

"…"

The Ash Bishop's robe, like charred remains of burning cloth, stirred slightly without wind, bringing back the suffocating pressure that had just lifted.

Herbert knew very well that, after being toyed with, this epic powerhouse was clearly displeased.

His ill-timed joke had clearly angered this powerful being.

But…

So what?

I have many little secrets~

But I won't~ tell you~

Won't~

Tell you~

Heh↑ heh↓

Faced with a powerful superior, Herbert chose to be cheeky.

Being cheeky, heh, it's fun!

The young man's Dao heart was now complete.

The frustration from his earlier defeat against the Ash Bishop vanished the instant he finished being cheeky.

Ah ha~

He was satisfied.

But he forgot one very important thing: when your strength is insufficient, don't provoke someone you can't beat.

No, Herbert actually knew this—he was fully aware of it.

Yet he still had to be cheeky this one time!

As for anything else, it didn't matter.

Being happy was enough!

As is well known, smiles obey the 【Law of Smile Conservation】—a smile is either on your own face, or it transfers to someone else's.

Herbert was happy, but clearly, someone else was about to be unhappy.

"…"

On the other side, the Ash Bishop lowered her gaze for a moment, then slowly lifted her eyes, silently gazing at the smiling boy.

After a long while, she finally sighed, slumped her shoulders, and gave a very unimpressed chuckle.

"Ah… heh."

After living so long, she finally understood what people meant when they said, "When someone is speechless, they really do laugh out loud."

She now had the chance to feel exactly how others had felt when she'd been this cheeky before.

Tsk.

It really was a bit annoying.

But the question is… I have the right to be cheeky—do you? Do you have it?

"You've got quite a bit of courage, don't you? Daring to toy with me like this, heh."

The Ash Bishop's voice was low and icy, as if rising from the abyss, seeping into Herbert's ears.

The sound made his body stiffen, his movements growing slower and slower.

From within the shadows, her eyes emitted two glares, like two sharp blades piercing straight into Herbert's soul.

Herbert felt an icy chill so deep his soul felt ready to freeze solid.

Yet at this critical moment, Herbert did not panic—he moved the few remaining parts of his body still under his control.

He shrugged his shoulders, curling his lips into a mischievous, mocking smile.

He knew exactly what he was doing—he knew the Ash Bishop was furious—but again, so what?

Why avoid it?

Because he wasn't afraid!

Though the Ash Bishop's strength was unfathomable, Herbert truly wasn't afraid—just as he never worried the Grand Bishop would harm him.

He had already sensed how she viewed him.

The Ash Bishop greatly valued talent; she would never persecute a brilliant genius like him.

For harmless jokes, she would never take things to extremes.

"Haha, if I've made you uncomfortable, please allow me to apologize to you."

Herbert bowed slightly, his posture precise, his body language meticulously conveying sincerity.

But on his face and in his words, he showed no corresponding sincerity.

"I just feel too serious an atmosphere isn't quite right for the two of us."

Herbert laughed it off, winking at the Ash Bishop as he grinned and asked:

"Surely you feel the same, don't you? Surely you won't punish me over this? I'm sure you're not that petty, are you?"

The boy's exaggerated demeanor resembled an innocent little white flower, his words dripping with tea-like pretense… combined with his expressive, lively eyes, he was the very embodiment of female-aimed fiction power.

Tsk tsk tsk, sister, look at you—how can you be so petty?

I… cough, I've already apologized—what more do you want?

Why are you still chasing after me!?

Come on, listen to me—let's be magnanimous, let's not dwell on such small things.

After all, stepping back opens up the whole world, you know~

Let's not fuss over such trivial matters~

Some words Herbert didn't say outright, but the flicker of his brows and the subtle shifts of his expression seemed to say everything.

Through those lively eyes, he had successfully conveyed all his thoughts to the Ash Bishop.

And then… the Ash Bishop became even angrier.

Why are you blinking at me? Are you putting on a show?

And as the stronger one, utterly dominant in power, she did not respond in Herbert's same manner.

Instead, she chose a simpler, more brutal approach.

"Fine, fine, fine… of course I wouldn't be that petty, of course."

Beneath the shadows, her brow furrowed slightly; with a light lift of her finger, Herbert instantly felt an invisible force pinning him in place, unable to move.

Herbert:?

After being suddenly restrained, he instinctively tried to resist—then helplessly realized he couldn't even blink or shrug now.

Huh!

Things seem to have gotten bad.

And as Herbert searched for a way out, the "legless" Bishop slowly glided toward him.

She looked at the boy whose smile had frozen, his eyes filled with embarrassment, and shook her head.

"I don't dislike your personality. Compared to those dull little fools who only care about improving themselves, you truly make me happier."

Her voice remained cold, yet carried a hint of helplessness—and amusement.

Not many people dislike a fun-loving, amusing fellow.

"But if your strength isn't enough, you'll eventually kill yourself—or kill the people around you."

Then wouldn't it be enough if my strength were sufficient?

Herbert instinctively wanted to answer this way upon hearing it, but his restraint left him unable to speak.

Fortunately, the Ash Bishop could read his gaze; she shook her head slightly and whispered: "Thoughts alone aren't enough. You need the corresponding strength."

"At least, with your current strength, you have no right to tease me."

She seemed to recall what she intended to do next, and couldn't help letting out two soft laughs, murmuring low:

"But I… am different."

She gently raised her hand, peeled off the silk glove on her right hand, revealing the skin beneath.

It was a pair of hands untouched by time, showing not a single trace of aging.

As one of the oldest beings in the monastery, second only to perhaps one other, Herbert had once imagined what the Ash Bishop's face might look like.

Would it be the conventional youthful maiden form?

In many literary and artistic works, a woman's age and appearance are not proportional.

It can be extremely mysterious.

If this woman were fifty years old, her appearance might already be less youthful.

But if you said this woman was eight hundred years old!

Then the story changes…

She would clearly appear very young!

Especially in a world where immortal races and even gods exist—such an appearance becomes even more reasonable.

Still, though Herbert's mind leaned toward this image, he dared not be certain.

After all, aesthetic preferences vary between races.

And some simply prefer their natural age's appearance, refusing to alter their looks by any means.

Even the Grand Bishop, a powerful being, appeared before the world as an old man, bearing the marks of time.

Do you think he lacked the ability to transform himself into a youthful boy?

He could easily do so.

Then why not?

Clearly, he simply didn't like that form.

So what would the Ash Bishop, who concealed herself daily beneath her hooded crimson robe, look like?

Would she be an aged crone?

Or perhaps…

This question had once troubled Herbert—but now it seemed to have an answer.

From this nearly flawless right hand, he saw no age, no youth—only a beautiful palm describable only as perfect.

Her fair skin, like purest snow steeped in ice, radiated an intoxicating allure.

Her fingers slender and long, her black nails slightly curved upward, exuding an alien charm, possessing an indescribable, unique attraction.

Under the starlike light of the demiplane, the back of her hand glowed with a soft luster—like fine, warm, milky jade, yet as smooth and glossy as porcelain.

From the moment it appeared, the palm had silently but powerfully drawn Herbert's gaze.

Herbert was not a hand fetishist; he had no special fondness for others' hands.

Yet at this moment, he could barely control his instinct—his eyes locked rigidly onto the palm.

As if that palm were silently transmitting some special message to him.

Thump. Thump.

Herbert's heartbeat slowly quickened.

Is this… right?

Under the sway of desire and instinct, Herbert's will finally found a breath of respite.

He didn't even need to think — he could be certain his current state was absolutely not normal.

This force of bewilderment was simply too special!

"Oh? You actually didn't lose your reason?"

The Bishop of Ashes studied Herbert's micro-expression for a moment, then let out a soft, somewhat surprised "oh?"

"I had assumed you would fall into chaos at this point. I didn't expect your will to be even firmer than I imagined. Heh, that's truly not bad."

Even though she had intended to give this disobedient child Herbert a small little punishment, upon discovering a bright spot on him, this bishop who cherished talent was still quite gratified.

Truly not bad!

Of course, good talent is good talent, but the punishment that should be had still has to be had — these are two separate matters.

Since Herbert could hold out amid this maddening temptation, then she could do even more.

The Bishop of Ashes raised her hand, deliberately bringing her palm up to his nose, and that special musk-like fragrance drifted into Herbert's nostrils.

Thump-thump!

His heartbeat, even faster.

"Does it look good?"

The Bishop of Ashes chuckled softly twice, did not withdraw her hand, but slowly moved it downward.

Herbert:?

Wait, what are you going to do to me?

Where are you putting your hand!?

Stop, stop for a moment!

The young man said nothing, only signaling with his eyes.

The bishop said nothing, only moving her palm downward.

At the critical moment, Herbert could only lower his head for now and issued a summons to his own ally.

"Nie, Nie Nasha!"

Help, come save me—

【"I'm here~"】

Miss Jester God did not play dead this time, and replied lazily: 【"What do you need me for? Want me to come out and push for you again?"】

"No, no, no."

Herbert was in no mood for jokes at this moment, and said helplessly: "It's not that — there's a witch trying to harm me!"

This woman suddenly took off her glove — she's actually about to do something unspeakable to me!

【"Hehehe~ Oh, isn't this my dear ally? So you've finally got your day too?"】

After a smiling tease, Nie Nasha laughed and offered a couple of comforting words:

【"Just relax, she's not planning to do anything bad to you, no need to be so nervous."】

After receiving this assurance, Herbert eased up a little in his heart and asked: "If it's not something bad, then could it be something pleasant?"

【"Pleasant? I suppose so, you should be quite comfortable afterward."】

Afterward? Should be? You freaking……

Herbert blinked, feeling an urge to suck his teeth.

Can you just say it clearly, you damned riddle-loving, fun-seeking, small-fry jester god!

And after you put it that way, why do I feel even more panicked?

Just then, Nie Nasha suddenly added: 【"By the way, the attraction she's producing toward you isn't something she's deliberately releasing, you know."】

【"If you really have to put it, it's roughly a kind of stimulation to your instincts~"】

In other words, this wasn't the Bishop of Ashes's active skill, but actually her passive talent?

Then, in other words, the reason she wraps herself up so tightly, not revealing a single inch of skin, is precisely to suppress and conceal this terrifying passive talent?

This line of thought is very likely valid.

A special instinctive stimulation?

Wait, if her ability is to stimulate instincts……

Then here's the question — what is she about to do now?

Just as Herbert was wondering what the Bishop of Ashes was actually going to do, those flawless Bai Xi fingers stopped before Herbert's chest.

Hoo!

Thank goodness, thank goodness she didn't touch any sensitive spots.

Otherwise, Herbert was even a little worried he wouldn't be able to suppress his instinctive impulse at all.

"Heh-heh, don't let your guard down."

But the instant Herbert's taut awareness relaxed just a little, the Bishop of Ashes chuckled and pressed lightly.

"……Cough."

Thump-thump!

Although Herbert still remained bound in place, he felt his heart pound violently, accelerating in an instant.

The speed of those beats was so fast it even made him feel as though he were in a state of boiling blood.

This power — was it physical stimulation from an outside force?

Or a special spell?

Or…… his body's instinct in fear?

Yes, though earlier he had felt an endless, boundless temptation, the instant he truly made contact with her, what Herbert felt was no longer temptation.

But an enormous fear!

For that instant, the fear nearly swallowed his consciousness whole.

Herbert was bound in place at that moment—otherwise, he would have instinctively taken a step back.

Just what in the world was…

While Herbert was thinking, the Bishop of Ashes slowly withdrew her finger and put her silk glove back on.

The instant the glove was donned, every temptation vanished in a breath, and the binding on Herbert was lifted along with it.

His body swayed lightly; with great effort he steadied himself and did not fall.

Herbert raised a hand and pressed it gently to the center of his own chest, feeling the fierce pounding that kept coming from within his breast, and let out a breath that was still shaken.

The Bishop of Ashes stood to one side, quietly watching Herbert make these movements without stopping him, and only after he had calmed down a little did she slowly speak:

"I think you should have understood my meaning by now."

"I know you can presently control those prisoners who would be dangerous to others, and they do indeed possess considerable strength, enough to keep you safe through many dangers."

"But that is still far from enough."

"Before a true strong one, when the others can no longer be of use, what you can rely on in the end is only yourself."

The Bishop of Ashes raised a finger and let it fall once more upon Herbert's chest.

But this time, Herbert felt no fear, nor any temptation—only the sense of her guidance as an elder.

"I do not oppose your tempering; you do indeed need to raise your own strength."

The Bishop of Ashes' voice was gentle, yet carried a thread of severity within it, and she said slowly:

"But if you remain this reckless, I may have to restrict your freedom, so that you cannot go adventuring in the darklands."

"Your strength is still not enough."

!

Hearing these words, Herbert's eyes shifted slightly; he did not grow agitated, only gazed calmly at the shifting shadows upon the Bishop of Ashes' face.

He could not see her eyes, but he knew he was looking at her, and that she was certainly looking back at him.

"Not a bad look in your eyes."

After a moment of facing each other, the Bishop of Ashes nodded in satisfaction, then said with a light laugh: "Don't worry—it's only a warning. I won't truly stand in your way."

She was an elder, but she would not meddle with a junior's fate.

Every person has the right to choose the road beneath their own feet.

Life or death—then let them settle it themselves.

"Besides, if you think I'm wrong, then prove it to me."

"Use the deeds you spread across the world to prove my words are mistaken."

Having said that, she did not even give Herbert a chance to respond, and raised a hand to tap him lightly on the top of his head.

Thud.

The force was not great, yet Herbert felt a sharp pain, as though an invisible hammer had slammed hard into his skull.

"Hiss—"

His ears rang, his consciousness blurred in an instant, as if he had been cast into an endless void.

"So this is the real punishment!?"

Thinking this, he closed his eyes weakly.

Herbert's vision went black.

(End of Chapter)