ITF Chapter62

On the day Luo Congye was captured, Shao Yixiao had displayed a rarely seen attitude of refined politeness, actually ordering his men to knock on the door.

The sound of horse hooves outside was chaotic, and the Alpha pheromones were completely disorganized. The plain disguise clothes Bai Heting had worn when he arrived were still wet, so Luo Congye hurriedly threw his own dry garments onto him and then pulled Bai Heting’s clothes onto his own body.

Prying the door open a crack, he immediately spotted Shao Yixiao at the head of the armored heavy cavalry.

Shao Yixiao was not wearing armor today; he wore only a scarlet hunting jacket, and beneath his thighs was that black thoroughbred horse Luo Congye had seen during the autumn hunt.

“Pei Yan, right?” He looked down, scanning the ill-fitting shirt and trousers on Luo Congye’s body. He seemed to be in a good mood, his tone leisure enough that it didn’t even sound like a warning, “I don’t mind you using force against my subordinates. At any rate, I will just charge it all to your master’s account.”

Luo Congye had already felt Shao Yixiao’s probing back when he was at the arena, and he also understood that he had failed to pass that test perfectly.

He turned his head to cast a deep look behind him.

Bai Heting was sleeping so deeply and peacefully that the commotion had not disturbed him in the slightest. A faint smile lingered at the corners of his lips, making it impossible to tell what kind of pleasant dream he was having.

Luo Congye withdrew his gaze, walked two paces outward, and closed the door behind his back.

He had once believed that would be the very last time he would ever look upon Bai Heting, but it was now clear that he had been mistaken.

The dungeon was gloomy and cold, devoid of sunlight, and the candlelight on the sconces flickered like phantoms. The guards in the dungeon were entirely unfamiliar faces; by the looks of it, they were all newcomers who seemed to know absolutely nothing about the fact that he used to be the general’s personal close guard.

Bai Heting sat on a solid wood chair carved with exquisite patterns. With his head lowered, he idly toyed with a short dagger whose hilt was entirely inlaid with colorful gemstones. Su Xingchuan stood behind him holding a tray, upon which lay several daggers of different styles aside from a single glass of wine.

Luo Congye’s blunt, direct gaze quickly aroused the dissatisfaction of an Alpha guard standing by his side. That man pressed his palm onto the back of Luo Congye’s neck before shoving it downward heavily.

“Presumptuous!” He barked out a stern rebuke. “Is the General’s countenance something the likes of you can stare straight at?”

Luo Congye’s head was pressed down very low. He glanced down at the trouser cuffs that were a little too short for him and let out a few quiet chuckles.

One year ago, he indeed had not dared to look directly at the general.

He had let success turn his head.

Seeing him laugh, the man’s fury grew even greater, and he applied a bit more force with his hand once more, “You still dare to laugh?”

Luo Congye stopped laughing, but he did not offer a single syllable in response.

An Omega would inevitably harbor a sense of dependence toward the Alpha who marked them. As one toyed with the daggers and the other watched, the better part of the day was consumed in this manner. Mindful of the Crown Prince’s orders, the Alpha guard finally could not resist reminding him, “General.”

Only then did Bai Heting unhurriedly lift his eyes.

The gaze he swept over was light and airy. Though his face was completely devoid of expression, he possessed an aura of natural authority that commanded respect without anger. The Alpha’s gaze dropped under the weight of that single look.

Choosing his words carefully, the guard spoke tentatively, “If you do not wish to dirty your own hands—”

Before his words could fully fall, a sharp gust of wind suddenly whipped past his ear, followed by a crisp clack as something struck the stone-brick wall and bounced onto the ground.

A dozen seconds later, a stream of warm blood slowly trickled down from the contour of his auricle.

Then, Bai Heting spoke his first words of the day inside the dungeon.

“Pick it back up for me.”

The Alpha’s eyes widened, his chest heaving violently. A short dagger had just skimmed past his ear; had it been even a fraction off, his left eye would have been gone.

Not daring to neglect the command, he turned to retrieve the dagger, then bent his waist to offer it up with both hands.

Bai Heting stared at him for a few seconds.

He reached his hand forward, but instead of taking the dagger, he gripped the Alpha’s right wrist in a sudden vice.

A low, muffled groan, the sharp snap of a dislocated joint, and the clatter of the dagger striking the ground rang out almost simultaneously. Looking down at the weapon that had fallen once again, Bai Heting issued another calm order, “Pick it up.”

The Alpha’s face had already gone white, and blood mixed with cold sweat stained his collar. With a heavy thud, he dropped to his knees on the floor, using his left hand to pick up the dagger and proffer it toward Bai Heting.

This time, Bai Heting snapped his left wrist as well.

Knowing he had crossed a sacred line, the Alpha lowered his head to the ground, enduring the agonizing pain as he gasped, “Please forgive me, General. This subordinate knows his mistake.”

Bai Heting ignored him. With a flick of his boot, he sent the dagger sliding to the feet of another guard and issued another calm command: “You. Pick it up for me.”

Having just witnessed the fate of his predecessor, that guard was thoroughly terrified. Yet he did not dare to disobey the order. He could only pick up the dagger and walk toward Bai Heting as if treading on thin ice, cradling it in both hands and offering it up respectfully.

Bai Heting did not take it but raised his right hand backward.

Su Xingchuan immediately placed a fresh dagger into his palm.

Bai Jiashu had mandated that all Alphas coming to work at the General’s Mansion must use suppressor patches, and Luo Congye also seemed to be deliberately suppressing his own pheromones, not releasing even a single trace of them. Consequently, the scent wafting from the injured Alpha’s blood became exceptionally prominent. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bai Heting said to him, “The physician in my mansion is dead. Go outside and find another physician.”

Having just taken a walk past the gates of hell, the Alpha dared not linger for a single moment, slinking away miserably.

Bai Heting stood up, took the glass of wine from the tray, tipped his head back and drained it in one gulp, then set the empty glass down again.

He slowly scanned the dozen or so unfamiliar faces present before asking in a calm voice, “Is there anyone else who wants to teach me how to do things?”

No one answered.

The vast dungeon was so silent that even a dropped needle could be heard; only one person still met his gaze.

Bai Heting took a step forward and arrived in front of him.

Luo Congye looked up at his face.

The person before his eyes was decisive in execution, cold, and merciless—this was the exact Bai Heting he had been silently looking up to ever since he was six years old.

Everything from last year’s autumn hunt until now felt like a fleeting dream.

The icy tip of the blade pressed against his throat, then slid all the way down along his neck, finally coming to a stop before his chest.

The tip of a blade should be pointed at the enemy, not your own people. Luo Congye still remembered the words the general had once said to him.

Bai Heting looked down at him.

With a swift raise and fall of his hand, he slashed open the clothes he had once worn himself before plunging the tip of the blade straight into Luo Congye’s chest.

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