Chapter 504: Heaven's Memorial Document

This angle is quite tricky; from the outside you can't see it at all, unless you genuinely suspect something, launch a thorough investigation, and move the bedding to see it.

Second, you must be lying on the bed, specifically lying at the head side, to have a chance of discovering it.

This blood fingerprint is complete, dark in color, hidden in an inner spot; it doesn't look like an accidental smudge, but rather a deliberately left mark.

This beam is quite thick; from the outside there's no sign of any chiseling, so it should be a long-existing hidden compartment.

Where is the mechanism to open this hidden compartment?

There are guards outside; I can't just jump up and feel around everywhere, that would be too easy to expose.

For something so concealed, the mechanism shouldn't be designed so foolishly.

So… the mechanism is likely somewhere around the bed.

Thinking this, I resorted to the desperate measure of feeling around on the bed, and I actually found a faint trace of blood in the corner of the headboard.

I suddenly got excited, extended a finger to probe inside, just about to feel for a press, when the door was suddenly pushed open, startling me; I hurriedly tidied the bedding and curled up, feigning sleep.

"Get up, the master wants to see you."

The person who came was the woman who brings me three meals a day; she's tall, with a figure that looks slim in clothes but shows flesh when undressed—clearly a martial practitioner.

I grudgingly got up, putting on my shoes while complaining unhappily: "What illness is Feng Xianqiu having now, staying up this late instead of sleeping? Watch out for sudden death!"

The woman ignored my words completely; she was cold like a machine that only follows orders, her task being to take me to Feng Xianqiu, and nothing else concerned her.

Feng Xianqiu's residence is on the other side of the Phoenix Lord Palace, its layout second only to my room.

When I was led in, I saw Feng Xianqiu sitting cold-faced beside the desk, a sheet of paper spread on it, him holding a pen, unknown what he was thinking.

Wu Ling stood at his side, eyes observing nose, nose observing heart.

Upon entering, I scanned the surroundings, observed the layout, and kept everything in mind.

Until my gaze locked onto the steel pen he held, my body stiffened suddenly.

I recognized this steel pen.

Originally, a girl named Sun Laiding took this steel pen; when her grandmother was alive, she used the pen to have people write complaint papers against her children, and even after her death she didn't rest.

Later I acquired the steel pen, had Jin Wuya remodel it into a strange device, sold it to a female lawyer; she soon gained fame, but unfortunately she was insatiably greedy, didn't follow the device's usage rules, and was ultimately backlashed.

After that, where this steel pen ended up, I didn't know.

I never would have imagined seeing it again here with Feng Xianqiu.

I don't know who remodeled it again, but both the barrel and cap were inlaid with something, without altering the pen's essential nature, so I still recognized it at a glance.

What does he intend to do with this steel pen?

I watched Feng Xianqiu warily.

Feng Xianqiu merely glanced at the woman, who then suddenly struck, pressing me against a nearby table; just as I was about to retaliate, Feng Xianqiu spoke.

He slowly turned the steel pen, his eyes not looking at me, more like talking to himself: "I've been thinking, if there really is a next life where one can choose one's birth, what kind of family would I choose to be born into?"

Huh?

How did we suddenly get onto the topic of the next life?

Has Feng Xianqiu, under the double torment of the fifth chapter of Weaving Dreams and Egu, developed world-weary and suicidal thoughts?

Immediately, he chuckled to himself: "Think about it, people like us, even our birth in this life was schemed by others—where would a next life come from?"

Heh, this insight is truly profound.

I instinctively glanced at Wu Ling, wanting to ask with my eyes what was going on.

As a result, Feng Xianqiu's next sentence made me feel like I'd fallen into an ice cellar.

"Since we have no expectations for the next life, we should firmly control everything we can now, right, sister?"

The steel pen in his hand spun, making my temples throb.

Regarding our backgrounds, which I had only just overheard a couple days ago, this layer of window paper was pierced so bluntly by Feng Xianqiu, showing he doesn't want to keep playing games with me but to act directly.

What exactly does he intend to do to me?

Feng Xianqiu stood up, the steel pen still gripped in his hand, walked to me, and with his other hand pinched my chin to lift my face.

He looked down at me and said: "Since one must live, one should live well, live long, live free; then those who weigh on my head, block my path, and splash dirty water on me all deserve to die, deserve to go down to the eighteenth level of hell, right, sister?"

The cold steel pen's barrel slid over my cheek; Feng Xianqiu narrowed his eyes, the madness in his depths no longer concealable: "Only you can help me, sister; brother begs you."

Having said that, he released my chin and gave a glance to the woman holding me down.

I only felt a chill behind me, as my clothing was actually slit open by a sharp weapon.

The sound of fabric tearing rang out; I don't know which nerve was stimulated again, but Feng Xianqiu, with his back to me, suddenly lifted his head, arms stretched upward in a worship pose, his whole body stretching and enjoying it.

I struggled hard, but the table beneath me didn't budge; iron chain sounds came from below, and soon my hands and feet were locked in black iron chains, my neck tightly wound several times, my whole body firmly fixed to the table.

From beginning to end, Wu Ling never looked at me, silently serving as Feng Xianqiu's most loyal aide.

At this moment, I even wondered if I had been sold!

The clothing on my back was completely torn open, exposing a large area of skin; the woman washed me with medicinal liquid, then dried me with a clean cloth, her movements exceptionally gentle, as if handling a work of art.

Compared to just now, when she roughly pressed me onto the table, she seemed like a completely different person.

Once everything was ready to proceed, the woman stepped forward, took the steel pen with both hands, and returned to my side.

By now, what else is there not to understand?

Feng Xianqiu intends to write on my back.

What does he want to write on my back?

Why me?

What sinister effect has this steel pen been altered to have?

Before I could recover from shock and doubt, Feng Xianqiu spoke again: "Heaven's Memorial Document."

The icy pen tip touched my skin, making my whole body shudder.

Feng Xianqiu actually intends to write the Heaven's Memorial Document on my back?

Who does he want to sue?

Writing it on paper and submitting the method upward—would that not work?

"I humbly beseech the Heavenly Emperor, the Three Pure Honored Gods, and all deities of the Three Realms, to perceive my innocent heart and discern my unjust grievance…"