She was going to resist!
Even if there was only a sliver of hope!
She took a deep breath, used all her strength, and suddenly flung the tray in her hands toward Isayate!
The scalding tea drew a black arc through the air, carrying her desperate determination as it lunged straight for that face hidden in the shadows.
However, the expected screams, chaos, or Isayate’s distressed appearance from being burned did not occur.
Just as the tea was about to touch the space a few centimeters in front of Isayate, it was as if it had struck an invisible, indestructible wall.
The tea solidified in mid-air, and time seemed to stand still at that moment.
In the next second, the scalding tea instantly froze into countless tiny ice crystals, falling onto the polished obsidian floor with a “clatter”, shattering into pieces and making a crisp, piercing sound.
The entire study fell into a deathly silence.
Isayate did not even lift an eyelid, as if nothing had happened just now.
She still maintained her reading posture, her long, pale fingers lightly brushing over the pages, making a faint rustling sound.
Only after a long time did she slowly turn a page and speak in a tone so flat it was almost cold:
“It seems you haven’t had enough of today’s punishment.”
That voice was not loud, but it was like a cold dagger, instantly piercing through all her courage and hope.
Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground with a thud, the tray falling to the side with a loud clang.
Cold sweat instantly soaked her back, and her heart pounded wildly, nearly leaping out of her chest.
She knew that what awaited her would be a punishment more severe than any before.
Isayate finally raised her head, those pink eyes like the deepest of cold pools, without any ripples, yet carrying a pressure sufficient to freeze the soul as they slowly landed on her.
She could even see herself in those eyes, as small as a lowly ant.
That day, Ling Xiya experienced a mental torture more terrifying than ever before.
Isayate did not strike her, nor did she whip her, she simply let the spirit brand continuously stimulate her nerves, leaving her to wander in endless pain and despair.
She even felt her consciousness was on the verge of collapse, wanting only to beg for Isayate’s forgiveness, as long as the pain would stop, she was willing to do anything.
***
Since that day, the last flicker of a flame called “resistance” in Ling Xiya’s heart, was finally completely extinguished under the weight of endless despair and crushing power.
She painfully realized that when an individual’s will encounters the crushing force of absolute power, any form of struggle is nothing more than a mantis trying to stop a carriage, which is not only futile, but will instead invite even deeper and more cruel torment.
Thus, she chose to sink, she chose to obey, and began to act like a truly well-trained, yet numb maid, silently executing every one of Isayate’s orders.
Before dawn, when the last smear of thick darkness of the night had not yet faded, her light footsteps already echoed in the depths of the castle.
She got up and began her daily, monotonous, and heavy labor: cleaning the empty and cold rooms, wiping the spotless antique furniture, and meticulously preparing Isayate’s fastidious meals.
Isayate’s requirements were strict to the extreme; the floor had to be polished until it could be used as a mirror, clearly reflecting the image of the crystal chandelier on the ceiling; the edges of the bone china teacups had to be clean and flawless, without a single fingerprint left behind; even the sound of her footsteps while walking had to be as light as a ghost, or rather, like a wary cat, silently gliding across the carpet.
“Ling Xiya, the tea is too hot, cool it until it is just right to drink before presenting it.”
“Ling Xiya, here——do you see? There is a hair in the gap of the floor, mop it again, I want to see no flaws.”
“Ling Xiya, come here, my shoulders are a bit stiff, knead them for me, use more strength, no, lighter, haven’t you eaten?”
“Ling Xiya, it’s getting windy outside, bring me my velvet cloak with silver-thread trim.”
Isayate’s voice was like a constant background noise in this castle, omnipresent yet carrying a bone-chilling coldness and mechanical quality, devoid of any emotion.
Ling Xiya always kept her head slightly lowered, her eyelids downcast to hide any glimmer of emotion that might leak from her eyes, responding in a nearly whispered, utterly submissive tone:
“Yes, Master.”
Then, she would turn and silently complete every task, like a precision machine set to a program.
She wore that somewhat stiffly laundered black-and-white maid uniform, the fabric rubbing roughly against her skin as she moved silently through the castle that felt like a giant ice cellar.
Her figure was thin and lonely, without vitality or soul, like a shadow abandoned by light, wandering through the luxurious yet cold corridors.
As the days passed, Ling Xiya gradually learned how to clean a room with the highest efficiency in the shortest time; how to precisely judge the temperature of the tea by the touch of her fingertips, not a degree more, not a degree less; how to perfectly gauge the strength of a massage to temporarily satisfy her picky master.
Her movements became more and more skillful, more and more precise, every gesture now held a sort of nearly rigid fluidity born from long-term discipline.
She became more and more like a real maid, a maid stripped of her name, personality, and thoughts, leaving only her service functions.
However, in the dead of night, when she curled up alone in that small, dark servant’s room in the corner of the castle, Ling Xiya would quietly take out a small broken shard of the Holy Sword hidden under her bed board.
She would tightly clutch that cold shard, feeling the faint power of light remaining on it, and weep silently.
She looked at herself reflected in the shard, wearing a maid’s uniform, her eyes hollow and her expression numb.
Was this really her?
That once high-spirited Hero Luo Ling, who was determined to save the world?
No, she was not Ling Xiya.
She was Luo Ling! She was the Hero Luo Ling!
This thought was like a spark buried deep under the ashes, although weak, it had never been extinguished.
Only now, this spark was covered by thick ice and snow, not daring to burn, unable to burn.
She knew that as long as she was still alive, as long as this spark remained, there was still hope.
One day, she would find an opportunity to escape all of this and reclaim her own name and glory.
But was there really still a chance?……
But for now, she had to endure.
She had to play the role of “Ling Xiya” well, like the most humble and submissive maid, living cautiously under the nose of the female Demon King, Isayate.
The next morning, when the first hint of dawn appeared on the horizon, Ling Xiya had already woken up on time and begun her new day’s “work”.
She picked up the broom and silently swept the empty hall, her movements skillful and numb.
Sunlight filtered through the tall stained-glass windows, casting colorful light and shadows on the ground, yet it could not reach into her deep and silent eyes.
Isayate sat on a sofa not far away, leisurely drinking coffee and watching the busy figure, a faint, inscrutable smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Taming a proud hero seemed to be much more interesting than imagined.
However, deep in the eyes of this “pet”, there seemed to be something hidden that she did not wish to see.
Perhaps, they needed more “time together”.
Isayate picked up the coffee cup and took a light sip.
She had plenty of time and patience.