Crimson Blossoms

Chapter 2.3: When Broken Wings Mock the Storm

One day, the door to the dungeon creaked open again, and Jīn Guāngshàn stepped inside, his golden robes a stark contrast to the dark, filthy dungeon. His expression was unreadable at first, his eyes scanning the room. His gaze fell on Wèi Wúxiàn, still bound, still silent, still defiant in his refusal to eat.

The senior disciples, standing nearby, immediately straightened, their faces tight with anxiety. They had failed again, and they knew it.

Jīn Guāngshàn's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Wèi Wúxiàn's battered form. "Still nothing?" he asked, his voice cold, sharp.

One of the disciples stepped forward hesitantly. "N-No, Sect Leader. He hasn't said a word. He won't eat, either."

Jīn Guāngshàn's lip curled in disgust. "So, you can't even get him to eat, let alone speak?" His voice was laced with contempt. He strode forward, stopping in front of Wèi Wúxiàn, who barely stirred at his approach.

He crouched down, his eyes narrowing as he studied Wèi Wúxiàn's face. "Look at you, Wèi Yīng. You're not even trying to survive anymore, are you?" His voice was low, mocking. "You're pathetic."

Wèi Wúxiàn didn't respond. He didn't move. His breathing was shallow, his body hunched forward in the chains, but his silence persisted.

Jīn Guāngshàn's frustration boiled over. He stood abruptly, turning on the senior disciples with a sneer. "And you lot?" he snapped. "You've had days—weeks—and still, nothing! You can't even complete a simple task!"

The disciples bowed their heads, unable to meet his eyes. "We've tried, Sect Leader," one of them stammered. "But he's... he's different. He won't break."

Jīn Guāngshàn's eyes blazed with anger. "Then make him break!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. "Do I have to do everything myself?"

Jīn Guāngshàn's eyes flickered with barely concealed anger as he strode back toward Wèi Wúxiàn, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

"Still not speaking up, are you?" Jīn Guāngshàn asked, his voice low and cold. He stopped in front of Wèi Wúxiàn, his gaze hard as he waited for a response, for any sign that the torture had broken him.

But Wèi Wúxiàn only lifted his head slightly, his eyes meeting Jīn Guāngshàn's without a word.

For a brief moment, their gazes locked. Wèi Wúxiàn's eyes were dull with exhaustion, his body slumped forward, barely able to hold itself up. But in the depths of his gaze, there was something else—a glimmer of defiance, of mockery that hadn't yet been extinguished.

Jīn Guāngshàn saw it immediately. That silent, unwavering challenge. It wasn't what Wèi Wúxiàn said—because he said nothing at all—but what was in his eyes that sent a surge of irritation rushing through Jīn Guāngshàn's veins.

Mockery.

Even now, after everything, Wèi Wúxiàn dared to look at him with that silent mockery, as if he still had the upper hand.

The corner of Jīn Guāngshàn's mouth twitched in anger. Without thinking, his hand shot out, striking Wèi Wúxiàn hard across the face. The sharp sound of the slap echoed through the room, followed by the dull thud of Wèi Wúxiàn's head snapping to the side, blood dribbling from the fresh split in his lip.

Wèi Wúxiàn didn't react beyond that. His body barely moved, his gaze remained downcast, and no sound escaped his lips. The slap had left a dark bruise forming on his cheek, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, but the mockery in his eyes hadn't faded.

Jīn Guāngshàn's nostrils flared as he stepped back, trying to regain control of his emotions. He had slapped Wèi Wúxiàn out of pure frustration, but even that small act of violence hadn't gotten the reaction he wanted.