Quentin Hua showed no sign of anger at all; he simply smiled and said, "Then I must trouble the Violet Envoy!"
Violet Snow shook her head and sighed, "Why put yourself through this, Lotus Sect Master? Opposing the Ghostmaster will do you no good!"
Quentin Hua finally grew impatient, his gaze turning cold. He suddenly leaned close to her ear and smiled, "Does the Violet Envoy think this will win the Ghostmaster's favor?" The faint, dangerous aura he exuded was irresistibly alluring.
Violet Snow’s face changed instantly, clearly stung by Quentin Hua’s words. The Ghostmaster had never paid her any attention; since her gentle devotion went unnoticed, she had no choice but to seek power and status, to stand at a height equal to his. That way, she would no longer have to look up to him, foolishly waiting for his fleeting kindness. If she could stand beside him, her reflection would always be in his eyes!
Quentin Hua brushed her hair with ambiguous tenderness, as if cherishing a rare treasure. His flawless, seductive smile lingered as he gently shook his head and said softly, "How innocent."
Violet Snow was momentarily stunned—this man truly was a dangerous charmer. When she came to her senses and realized what he meant, she glared at him in anger. "You..."
Quentin Hua flashed a wicked smile, ignored her, and turned to leave.
Violet Snow watched his retreating figure, gritted her teeth, and sneered, "Let’s see how long you can stay smug! The Ghostmaster isn’t one for sentiment—he has no patience for defiance!"
With a loud bang, the door slammed shut. Quentin Hua leaned his entire weight against it, his face pale and drenched in cold sweat, clearly enduring great pain. His hands clutched his chest, veins bulging on the backs of his hands, showing just how much strength he was exerting.
Gritting his teeth to keep the pain from escaping in a groan, his reddened eyes were filled with murderous intent. Whatever he set his mind to, he would accomplish—no one could control him!
In the end, he couldn’t suppress the metallic taste in his throat and spat out a mouthful of blood. Darkness swallowed his vision, and he collapsed.
When Quentin Hua woke again, night had fallen. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, curled his lips in self-mockery, and murmured, "Looks like I have nine lives—still not dead yet."
He walked to the table and sat down, gazing out at the deep night sky. His eyes grew distant as he sighed softly, "How much longer can I hold on?" The feeling of unwillingness gnawed at him.
In the garden, Damien Gray held Morgan Shangguan in his arms, feeding her porridge with one hand and holding a book in the other, looking every bit the diligent scholar.
Morgan leaned against his chest, glanced at the book, and laughed, "Cramming at the last minute!" Damien was reading a medical text. After what had happened before, he’d resolved to study medicine seriously, determined never to be powerless again.
Damien smiled, kissed her cheek, and fed her another spoonful of porridge. "Even if I’m cramming, I’m still better than those who spend a lifetime studying medicine," he said—not boasting, just stating a fact.
With that, he tossed the book aside and picked up another to continue reading.
Morgan couldn’t help but laugh. "Arrogant!"
At her words, Damien raised an eyebrow, then flashed a teasing smile. He leaned down, gently nibbled her earlobe, and asked in a low, playful voice, "Does my princess consort enjoy it?"
Morgan pushed his head away, laughing, "Careful, or you’ll pay for it! You know you can’t touch me right now, yet you still tease—who’ll suffer in the end?"
Damien Gray frowned and sighed, "I really brought this on myself!" He regretted, yet again, letting her get pregnant—now he was forced to live like a monk, and miserable didn’t even begin to describe it.
"Guildmaster..." came a hesitant voice.
Both looked up to see Marjorie Wan standing there, dazed. Though she seemed a bit worn, her spirits were clearly much improved.
Morgan nodded in satisfaction. She knew Marjorie was gentle yet strong, but hadn't expected her to recover so quickly. Still, she wondered when the wounds in her heart would truly heal.
"Is there something you need?"
Marjorie Wan smiled, "Guildmaster, I’m fine now!" That was all she’d come to say. She knew this was a critical time, and with the other four elders busy, she couldn't allow herself to remain idle any longer.
Since Morgan’s last visit, she hadn’t come again, but Marjorie understood—Morgan cared, or she wouldn’t have stayed in the Cloud Guild, nor given Marjorie time to heal and stand up again.
There were many here who cared about her. She couldn’t let everyone down over someone like Liu Feng.
Morgan nodded. "I understand. If I need anything, I’ll let you know." After a moment’s thought, she added, "Julian Ji has a lot on his plate—help him out, will you?" It wasn’t just to pair them up; Julian really was busy, having taken over most of Marjorie’s duties.
"Yes!" Marjorie glanced at the affectionate couple, hesitated, but ultimately said nothing.
After Marjorie Wan left, Morgan immediately sent someone to find Julian Ji. Damien Gray laughed, "When did you get so impatient?"
Morgan raised an eyebrow. "I’m pregnant—patience isn’t required!"
Damien couldn’t help but laugh—what kind of logic was that?
Morgan smiled softly. When you’re pregnant, you make the rules—whatever she said, went!
Seeing the subtle, captivating smile in her eyes and at the corner of her lips, Damien’s gaze darkened. He leaned in and kissed her deeply, his restraint slipping. Morgan pushed him away just in time, catching his wandering hand and gently reminding him, breathless, "Damien..."
Damien held her, breathing heavily, and asked with a hint of pleading in his eyes, "Mo’er, how much longer?"
Morgan sighed and blinked, "I don’t know! Maybe another year or two!"