A gentle breeze swept through the battlefield, stirring the dust and scattered leaves on the ground.

Jun Zhu lay half-reclined on the earth, his face beginning to turn faintly purple from lack of oxygen. The blood-red character “九” (Nine) on Mo Yao’s forehead glowed ominously beneath Jun Zhu’s touch. Because of this action, Mo Yao’s expression grew even colder, his killing intent intensifying.

The hand around Jun Zhu’s throat tightened. Watching as Jun Zhu’s face darkened further from suffocation, Mo Yao spoke in a chilling voice:

“Even if I kill you now, my soul will remain intact. Do you really think your curse still holds any power over me?”

“The only reason I kept this mark—” He paused, his golden eyes flashing with malice. “—was to remind myself of the humiliation I once suffered at your hands.”

Suddenly, Mo Yao withdrew his grip from Jun Zhu’s throat. The corners of his lips curved into a cold smirk.

“But your little trick just reminded me—how could I let you die so easily? That would be far too merciful. No, I’ll keep you alive and make sure you suffer.”

“Cough… cough…”

The moment the pressure on his throat was released, Jun Zhu’s body collapsed weakly to the ground. He coughed violently, blood trickling from the corner of his lips, while his neck burned with searing pain.

Before he could catch his breath, Mo Yao seized his chin, forcing him to lift his head. Something small and unknown was shoved into his mouth. Before Jun Zhu could spit it out, Mo Yao pressed a point on his body, and his throat moved against his will—swallowing the object whole.

“What… did you make me eat?”

Jun Zhu’s voice was hoarse and weak, his throat raw from the earlier strangulation.

“Something good, of course,” Mo Yao replied nonchalantly.

Releasing Jun Zhu’s chin, Mo Yao summoned a black metal ring in his hand. With a quick hand seal, the ring transformed into a shadowy blur, shooting toward Jun Zhu.

A sudden cold sensation wrapped around his neck. Jun Zhu instinctively reached up and froze when he touched it—a hard, icy object encircling his throat.

Realization struck him like lightning. His eyes turned cold as he glared at Mo Yao with unrestrained fury.

He had put a collar on him.

Like he was some kind of pet.

Jun Zhu snapped his head up and locked eyes with Mo Yao, his gaze filled with seething anger.

“Take it off. Now.”

Mo Yao met his glare with a smirk, seemingly satisfied with his reaction. That smile—mocking, arrogant—somehow made his already striking features even more dangerously captivating.

“This collar was specially crafted for you,” Mo Yao said smoothly. “From now on, you are my prisoner. And I will make sure you enjoy every moment of the days to come.”

He deliberately emphasized the last few words, his tone laced with amusement. The way they echoed in Jun Zhu’s ears made his blood boil.

“You—!”

“Now that you’re in my hands,” Mo Yao interrupted, his tone turning sharp, “you’d best behave. If you’re obedient, I may even consider sparing you some suffering. But if you displease me…”

His smirk widened.

“I will make sure you experience a slow and agonizing death.”

This was humiliation. A direct assault on Jun Zhu’s dignity.

He clenched his teeth, his entire being seething with rage. He wanted nothing more than to land a punch on Mo Yao’s infuriatingly smug face.