Chapter 747

She was a half-elf woman who looked no older than thirty, seated sideways on an old chair by the window, wearing only a thin, silk, dark green strapless nightdress that ended at her thighs, outlining her plump, graceful curves.

Over it she loosely draped a sheer silk garment, which did nothing to conceal her but instead added a hazy allure.

She possessed delicate features similar to Sylph’s, yet more mature and alluring, her brow shadowed by an unyielding sorrow and exhaustion; she stared blankly into a fogged bronze mirror, as if lost in memory, or sighing at her present state.

Sylph noticed Li Chen’s gaze fixed on the window; she bit her lip, a flicker of struggle crossing her face.

But her instinct for survival and a deep-seated urge to please this powerful being drove her, almost against her will, to lower her voice and say to Li Chen: “My lord, that is my mother. She’s very timid, terrified of trouble, used to enduring everything without protest—if you wish to do anything to her, she would never dare speak up.”

Her voice grew quieter with each word, thick with shame she could not voice, yet laced with the grim resolve of one who would sacrifice anything to survive.

Li Chen, though well-traveled and worldly, paused in surprise.

He had seen many who betrayed their masters to save themselves, or sold friends for survival.

But this—this girl who, without hesitation, offered her own mother as a “bargaining chip” and “shield” to stay alive—he had never seen such a thing.

The girl’s “pragmatism” and “decisiveness” were astonishing.

Li Chen couldn’t help but smile inwardly, thinking: Truly, a promising child.

This ruthless adaptability for survival, if guided properly, might indeed be forged into a fine blade.

Of course, on the condition that the blade remained firmly in his own hand.

Though Li Chen was, indeed, a man who appreciated the allure of mature women, he was now in a foreign land, unfamiliar and unsecured, and this was a critical moment of covert investigation—he would not act so recklessly.

He turned his gaze away from the window and said calmly to the tense, uneasy Sylph beside him: “Take me to your room.”

Sylph felt the unreadable weight of his gaze and trembled slightly; countless thoughts flashed through her mind, but in the end, she nodded resignedly and whispered: “Yes, my lord. Please follow me.”

She pushed open the creaking wooden door and led Li Chen into her room, which could only be described as bare to the point of destitution.

The room was tiny and spartan: only a hard wooden bed, a wooden table missing a corner, and a crooked chair.

The walls were peeling; in the corner lay a pile of clean but heavily patched old clothes.

Yet despite the poverty, the room was immaculately tidy.

The bed, though old, had a whitened sheet stretched smooth and taut;

The tabletop was spotless, holding a simple bottle filled with wildflowers, adding a touch of life and color to the humble space;

Even in the corner, stones had been arranged into a small, neat, simple pattern.

Every detail revealed the resident’s good upbringing and a quiet resilience—maintaining dignity and hope despite hardship—showing clearly that she was, at heart, a good girl, merely shaped by circumstance.