Several continuous shouts of "Stop!" finally brought Chu Xue to a halt, panting heavily. Zong Shou pressed a hand to his forehead, adopting a tone of profound earnestness as he patted Chu Xue’s shoulder. “Xue’er, you must understand, sometimes when a person is down on their luck, they can choke on clean water. How does that saying go? What is it, ‘When fate is bitter, blame not the Heavenly Emperor; when luck runs dry, blame not the heavens.’ How can you suspect and blame your own young master just because your luck has been a bit poor? That really isn't right!”

Chu Xue was furious, utterly unaware of the meaning of the latter part of the saying about bad luck and bitterness, nor what a ‘Heavenly Emperor’ was. But she knew Zong Shou was definitely trying to fool her. Her eyes instantly grew hot, welling up with tears. “Young Master, that time, Xue’er was bleeding from being hit by that flowerpot. And when that sword came slashing, Xue’er was so scared, truly terrified, thinking she was actually going to die—” Zong Shou instantly shuddered all over. This man yielded to softness but not hardness; he feared this specific tactic the most.

Recalling the scene from that day, he did feel somewhat guilty.

At this moment, Chu Xue looked utterly pitiable. Every word she spoke felt like a blow to his heart, a searing interrogation of his conscience.

“Actually, Xue’er doesn’t blame you for those things, but in front of so many people, Xue’er stumbled and fell several times in a row—it was so humiliating! I even thought I had offended some deity by accident, and for the next ten-plus days, I lived in constant fear, praying to the gods every single day. And that day when—”

Zong Shou was now drenched in a cold sweat. Seeing Chu Xue growing more and more aggrieved, tears falling like a broken string of pearls, he finally suffered a complete rout, unable to resist, and decided to raise the white flag.

This was precisely why he detested women’s tears. Such a powerful weapon was practically illegal.

With a slight sigh, Zong Shou held up a single finger.

“Alright, Xue’er, it was my fault, Young Master’s fault! I truly didn’t expect the effect of that talisman would cause you such misery. Your Young Master sincerely apologizes. How about this? As a token of my apology, you can have a holiday—”

His voice paused. Zong Shou hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was being too lenient. Without thinking, he changed his mind: “You can have one day off! Do whatever you want today, no need to copy that Great Wilderness Talisman Scripture.”

Chu Xue was initially delighted by the first part but instantly erupted in furious flames upon hearing the rest.

She felt her Young Master was utterly monstrous. Without thinking, she instinctively slammed the spiritual talisman in her hand hard onto Zong Shou’s forehead.

This move was completely unexpected; Zong Shou hadn't even considered defending or dodging, and before he had any impulse to move, the talisman was stuck right above his brow.

Then, the entire carriage fell into instant silence.

Chu Xue stared at her hand, shocked, seemingly unable to believe she had just performed that action. Ruoshui stopped pretending to sleep, sat up, and looked toward Zong Shou with an expression of immense pity. As for Zong Shou himself, he felt utterly powerless. Just as he remembered there might still be a chance to rip the cursed thing off his forehead before the spiritual art activated, the ‘Luck’ character talisman before his eyes began to burn.

Chu Xue realized something was wrong now, her small face contorted in distress. “Young Master, Xue’er truly didn’t mean it. The way Young Master looked just now was too hateful. Xue’er’s hand moved before she even had time to think. Please don't be angry with Xue’er, alright? How about Young Master hits me to vent your anger?”

Zong Shou, who had been worrying incessantly, couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at these words, thinking this was a classic case of acting without thinking.

Immediately afterward, he felt it was inappropriate, coughed, straightened his face, and said in a gloomy tone, “Are you satisfied now? Have you vented? You are utterly presumptuous. Do you think being hit once settles it? Dream on. If you want me not to be angry, fine, hehe, you just need to—”

His words abruptly cut off as Zong Shou’s eyes flickered with an array of shifting emotions.

He had originally thought that as long as he stayed put inside the carriage, did nothing, and went nowhere, he would naturally be perfectly safe until the effect of that talisman completely wore off.

But now, judging by the situation, avoiding misfortune seemed far more difficult than he had imagined.

At this moment, he felt as if his insides were churning like a raging sea. All the bones in his body were emitting continuous cracking sounds. Zong Shou’s complexion gradually turned ashen. All the wicked thoughts that had filled his mind earlier vanished completely.

Chu Xue had initially closed her eyes, awaiting the final judgment. But since Zong Shou remained silent for a long time, she finally couldn’t bear it and quietly opened her eyes.

What she saw made her eyes light up: the Young Master before her had completely transformed. Snow-white fox ears sprouted out, accompanied by four fluffy fox tails behind him. His long hair had also turned snow-white, perfectly framing his pale yet incomparably handsome face, making him unbearably adorable. It made Chu Xue desperately want to pull Zong Shou into her arms and fiercely bite his cheek.

This was only the second time she had seen Zong Shou’s true demonic form. In the past, whenever he transformed during the full moon, Zong Shou was always driven out of the carriage by everyone, including her. This time, she was determined to feast her eyes, even if it meant severe punishment afterward.

Even Ruoshui was quite surprised, her phoenix eyes shimmering with light, showing an expression of deep interest.

Her fingers unconsciously stroked her lips, then she lightly licked them with her tongue, sucking gently, exuding an aura of desire.

Zong Shou, meanwhile, was cursing internally. Why did this blasted Heavenly Fox demonic body have to emerge at this particular moment?

With great effort, he finally managed to settle the surging blood and energy within his body. Just as he was preparing to retract this Heavenly Fox form as well, a warning alarm surged through him again, and he instinctively darted his head to the side.

Moments later, he saw a sharp blade light pierce through the exterior of the carriage. Fierce and savage, it narrowly missed his throat by three inches, embedding itself deeply into the carriage wall on the opposite side.

Looking closely, it was none other than Hu Zhongyuan’s saber, the Tiger’s Might Blade.

If he hadn't known this was most likely the effect of that ‘Luck’ talisman, and that even if he had been hit, it would have only resulted in serious injury, Zong Shou would have thought Hu Zhongyuan harbored a deep grudge and finally decided to commit patricide.

Before he could even celebrate escaping death, he felt his foot slip. He had stepped into a pool of blood-red spiritual ink, and his body consequently pitched forward due to inertia.

Zong Shou’s mind raced; in a mere instant, he realized the spiritual ink must have been knocked over by the fierce wind generated by that Tiger’s Might Blade just now. Furthermore, the spiritual art he had been practicing recently was of the ‘Water’ element, and the spiritual ink used was primarily made from the blood of the Eight-Clawed Cloud Beast, making it extremely slick. His reaction was equally swift. The spiraling internal energy suddenly emerged, and his muscles adjusted in an orderly manner, displaying extreme calm.

However, just as his center of gravity was about to stabilize, the spiraling internal energy suddenly exploded, turning into utter chaos and smashing wildly within his meridians.

Only then did Zong Shou start to panic. Seeing the drawing desk used for talismans rapidly approaching, he began waving his hands about frantically in disarray.

Yet, he ultimately failed to salvage his destined tragic fate. His forehead smacked heavily against the corner of the table with a dull peng.

Outside the carriage window, Hu Zhongyuan stood with a sorrowful expression, looking at the heavily guarded Cloud-Overturning Carriage next to him. He was filled with annoyance and worry.

Just now, for some unknown reason, he had been practicing the saber technique Zong Shou taught him, casually swinging the Tiger’s Might Blade on his horse. But somehow, the saber suddenly flew out of his control. And precisely by ill chance, its trajectory pointed directly toward Zong Shou’s Cloud-Overturning Carriage ten zhang away.

What was even stranger was that none of the hundreds of Black Fox Iron Cavalry present, even several Martial Ancestor experts, could intercept it. Not even Zong Lan reacted. He stood nearby, astride a Silver-Scaled Wind-Treading Beast, looking dazed, his expression lost, seemingly unable to accept the fact that he had failed in his duty even now.

Damn it, this is too absurd. Could it be that besides my swordsmanship, I also have surprising talent in projectiles—the kind of rare genius seen once in a hundred years?

It seems I’ll need to spend some time practicing this properly when I get back.

Nodding thoughtfully, Hu Zhongyuan was about to step forward to beg forgiveness when he suddenly heard a series of clattering sounds from inside the carriage compartment. Intermittently, there seemed to be sounds of heavy objects colliding.

Faintly, Zong Shou’s painful groans seemed to be mixed in.

Hu Zhongyuan’s eyes widened in disbelief, and he stealthily glanced toward the window.

The next instant, he drew his neck back and rode his horse away as if nothing was amiss.

He hadn't seen the situation inside clearly. He instinctively felt it was best not to make a sound at this moment. Even if he needed to apologize, this was not the time.

He worried deeply that, given the Young Duke’s temper, he might actually die this time.

A full fifteen minutes passed before the inside of the carriage finally settled into silence.

Zong Shou sat stiffly on the soft couch, his face bruised and swollen, looking utterly wretched.

Beside him, Ruoshui covered her lips lightly, unable to suppress soft chuckles. Chu Xue kept her eyes lowered, seemingly terrified of attracting Zong Shou’s attention, but the corners of her lips were also tilted upward, her eyes brimming with suppressed laughter, clearly struggling not to laugh until she hurt herself internally.

Zong Shou was first gloomy-faced, appearing quite annoyed, but then he surprisingly curved his own lips and let out a soft laugh.

This turn of events stunned Ruoshui and Chu Xue; they wondered if Zong Shou had gone mad. How could he laugh after being so thoroughly unlucky?

Zong Shou didn’t seem to care at all. Shaking his head, he murmured, “This is fate. I suppose I should learn from those whores. Since I can’t resist it, I might as well enjoy it—”

Muttering this nonsensical phrase to himself, Zong Shou looked at the wrecked interior of the carriage. He mused that since the bad luck had already struck and the misfortune had manifested, why not try testing his own good fortune?

He held no interest in wealth, but the two moments of enlightenment he had experienced under Xiong Kui’s tutelage recently were what truly held his attention. (To be continued)