"The Royal Binding" - The most brutal palace coup, plunging everyone into an inescapable, extreme confinement. Exquisi

Qing Muxue's gaze, sharp as a hawk's, fell upon the wide, flowing sleeves of the Grand Princess's opulent robes. She slowly raised her hand, carefully moving the dangling sleeve aside. As the sleeve fell away, the sight beneath was instantly revealed, causing the eyes to narrow in shock. The Grand Princess's delicate hands were already tightly bound by crimson, smooth silk, bundled into two plump, velvety spheres, her fingers rendered completely immobile. Her entire forearms were then ensnared by a dense network of flesh-colored cords, as fine as hair, securely fastened to the inner side of the gilded armchair's armrests. These fine cords, with their color and texture so close to human skin, were extremely faint and translucent. From a distance, they almost merged with her flesh, leaving no discernible trace, which explained why no one in the hall had noticed this hidden restraint. The Grand Princess of Great Chu, seated upon the imperial throne, was secretly imprisoned, effectively held captive. Amidst unparalleled luxury, she had been reduced to the most helpless of prisoners. A cold glint flashed in Qing Muxue's eyes. Knowing the danger and strangeness of the situation, she did not cease her examination. With focused attention, she gently lifted the hem of the Grand Princess's voluminous skirt. The hidden scene beneath was instantly exposed, sending another tremor through her heart. The Grand Princess wore no shoes, her feet entirely encased within stockings. Her legs were clad in elegant, grey, thigh-high stockings, embroidered with exquisite golden patterns. These intricate, luxurious designs clung to her long, shapely legs, a display of exotic beauty and nobility that now served as shackles. Even more bizarre was the layer of transparent, viscous adhesive binding the two layers of stockings together. The adhesive was incredibly strong, extending from the top of her thighs all the way down, sealing her legs together without a single gap. From top to bottom – thighs, knees, calves, ankles, and even her slender toes – all were firmly glued, rendering her legs unable to move apart or loosen, held rigidly together as one. Beyond the adhesive, further restraints were in place. Her entire legs were tightly bound by layers of fine, resilient, plain-colored ropes. The ropes were densely arranged around her thighs, the backs of her knees, her calves, and her feet, crisscrossing to form a tight, compact net that cinched her muscles, fixing her legs immovably. All the rope ends were gathered at her ankles, where the excess rope was securely locked, connected to a hidden mechanism beneath the floor. This mechanism, locked to the ground, firmly anchored her feet, preventing the Grand Princess from even the slightest movement of her feet or knees. Her legs were utterly pinned to the bluestone floor of the hall, her body completely immobile. Unlike the flesh-colored cords binding her arms, the ropes on her legs, concealed beneath her skirt, were of ordinary, plain colors. However, their texture was exceptional – smooth, lustrous, and incredibly tough. Ordinary swords could barely cut them, and they were impossible to tear with bare hands. They were ingeniously designed, making them virtually undetectable and unresolvable for ordinary individuals. Qing Muxue's brow furrowed deeply as she surveyed the layers of confinement. Despite her half-lifetime of military experience and exceptional combat skills, she was unarmed and weaponless. Faced with this intricate web of adhesive, ropes, and hidden mechanisms, she found herself at a loss, the task of rescuing the princess seeming impossibly difficult. Her gaze returned to the motionless Grand Princess. She sat rigidly on the throne, her body utterly still, like a perfectly sculpted jade statue, not even the slightest ripple in her back or shoulders. Qing Muxue, a veteran of countless battles with keen observation skills, instantly detected this deeper layer of strangeness. She immediately leaned down to carefully examine the area where the back of the chair met the Princess's spine. As expected, the gilded throne concealed a hidden mechanism. The inner side of the backrest was equipped with a locking device that secured the Grand Princess's spine seamlessly to the chair, locking her from head to shoulders and waist, rendering any forward or backward movement impossible. Peering into the gaps, she could also see traces of a lustrous, viscous adhesive bonding the fabric to the backrest, completely sealing off any possibility of movement. This was the true reason for her unnaturally stiff and unmoving posture. With all the restraints identified, a chill began to creep into Qing Muxue's heart. Without further hesitation, she reached out and gently touched the Princess's cheek, slowly lifting the thin, translucent red veil. As the red veil fell away, the sight beneath sent a shock through her heart. Beneath the veil was not the expected face, but a wide, flesh-colored adhesive patch, completely covering the Princess's face from below the nose. It adhered perfectly to her skin, leaving no gaps, concealing her lips and jaw. The patch lay flat and seamless against her face, making her appear as if she had been born without a mouth, an utterly bizarre sight. Qing Muxue, accustomed to years of campaigning and wielding weapons, had calloused hands with no fingernails, her fingertips flat and hard, offering no leverage. She had to hold her breath, using the edges of her fingertips to repeatedly rub and probe the edges of the adhesive patch. After a long time, she managed to create a tiny gap. She dared not use excessive force, fearing she might injure the Princess's skin. Carefully, she slowly pulled along the gap, eventually peeling off the entire sealed, flesh-colored adhesive patch. The moment the patch detached, Qing Muxue's pupils contracted, and her heart was seized with terror. The Grand Princess's exquisite, beautiful red lips were sealed shut by a layer of clear, eerie adhesive. Her upper and lower lips were pressed together so tightly, so firmly stuck, that they couldn't be parted even a fraction. More chillingly, her lips were slightly swollen, their contours full and prominent, clearly indicating that her mouth had been stuffed to the brim with foreign objects, completely blocking any gap for speech or breath. Previously, the hall had been deathly silent. Standing several steps away, she hadn't heard the slightest unusual sound. Now, leaning in close, pressing her ear against the Princess's, she finally caught a faint, tiny, muffled whimper, intermittent and gasping. So, the Grand Princess had been desperately crying for help all along, but this meticulous, suffocating seal had completely obstructed her voice, trapping it in her throat, hidden within her cavity, utterly undetectable from afar. Such a restraint, precise and venomous, leak-proof, was far beyond the scope of ordinary palace struggles. Qing Muxue focused her gaze, and only then did she suddenly understand why, from a distance, the Grand Princess's posture had seemed so stiff and strange. Now, up close, she could clearly see that the Grand Princess had never been still. She had been struggling silently with all her might. Her arms, bound by silk ropes and adhesive locks, writhed and shifted slightly within the narrow confines of the restraints. Her fixed body swayed back and forth in small arcs, as if trying to break free from the chair's mechanisms. Her long, slender legs, clad in grey silk stockings with gold patterns, frequently rubbed and struggled, attempting to dislodge the adhesive and escape the net of ropes. But the restraints around her were interlocked, the mechanisms locked tight, and all her struggles were in vain. She poured all her strength into it, but her body could only manage a few millimeters of subtle movement, an almost imperceptible shift. From afar, such tiny movements and tremors didn't look like a desperate struggle; they merely resembled a lady shivering slightly from the cold, her form trembling faintly, devoid of any tragic intensity, leaving only the profound sorrow of extreme endurance. Under the flickering candlelight, the Grand Princess's clear eyes were already brimming with tears, a misty haze carrying all the terror, despair, and grievance in their depths. Large teardrops rolled slowly down her delicate cheeks, streaking her face, flowing ceaselessly. Yet, strangely, her face seemed to be coated with a special palace makeup, waterproof and color-fast. No matter how much her tears washed down, her delicate eyebrows and the makeup around her lips remained perfectly intact, still neat and beautiful. Only the shattered shimmer of water in her eyes made her noble and stunning face appear even more pitiable and heart-wrenching. Qing Muxue's chest churned with surging anger, her heart filled with shock and confusion. The Grand Princess resided in the highest echelons, held supreme honor, above all others, one of the most noble women of Great Chu. Who dared to be so audacious as to set such a venomous trap within the deep palace hall, to imprison a dignified princess in such a pathetic and helpless state? The mastermind's methods were meticulous and insidious, the plan flawlessly executed, far exceeding the scope of ordinary palace struggles. This was clearly a deliberate act of rebellion. With a thousand questions swirling in her mind, she desperately wanted to know the truth, to uncover the mastermind. But the most urgent matter now was to break free from the restraints and allow the Princess to speak. Alas, the Princess's lips were sealed shut by the bizarre adhesive, her mouth filled with foreign objects. No matter how Qing Muxue questioned her, she could only hear faint, muffled whimpers, unable to utter a single clear word. In her desperation, Qing Muxue disregarded propriety. She leaned in, focused, and gently pressed her fingertips to the Princess's sealed lips, slowly applying pressure, trying to pry apart the stuck lips and break the seal on her throat. She applied pressure with extreme gentleness, fearing she might injure the Princess, but the adhesive was exceptionally strong, having fused the lip tissues together so tightly they were as one. After several gentle attempts to pull and pry, not only did it not loosen at all, but it also pulled at the flesh and skin, causing waves of sharp pain. The already terrified and fragile Grand Princess was instantly overwhelmed by the intense pain. Tears surged from her eyes, her originally delicate, pale cheeks flushed with a deep red. Her brows furrowed tightly, her body trembled more violently, filled with unbearable agony and helplessness. Under the extreme pain, the Princess, unable to struggle, could only shake her head desperately. Soft, muffled moans escaped her, filled with pleas and discomfort. Seeing this, Qing Muxue's heart tightened. She immediately withdrew her hand, no longer daring to probe further. Looking at the Grand Princess before her, who had lived a life of nobility and was now subjected to such humiliation, her eyes were filled with solemnity and heartache. Anger and helplessness warred within her chest. The entire opulent, silent hall was filled only with the Princess's faint, suppressed sobs and the soft rustle of flickering candlelight. With the adhesive on her lips sealed shut and no apparent solution, Qing Muxue knew that wasting more time here would be futile. The priority was to first remove the ropes and adhesive locks binding the Princess, to undo these restraints, and then find a way to unseal her lips and question the truth. Her mind made up, she immediately leaned down and reached out to untie the knot at the Princess's ankle. But just as her fingertips were about to touch the knot— "Click—!" A crisp, cold mechanical sound exploded from the depths of the gilded phoenix throne, echoing through the silent hall. The next second, the entire golden seat activated, and all its hidden mechanisms triggered. From various gaps in the seat, countless cold, sharp golden restraints sprang out and locked with lightning speed. Elbows, wrists, waist, back, knees, calves, even the sides of the neck – every point of contact between the body and the seat was met with a golden shackle that shot out. A series of dense clicking and locking sounds followed, powerful and precise, instantly securing the Grand Princess from head to toe to the seat. The previous rope and adhesive restraints had still allowed for a few millimeters of subtle movement. But these metal shackles fit snugly against the skin, locking her in place without leaving any room. The Grand Princess was nailed to the phoenix throne from head to toe, her limbs and torso, her neck and waist, completely immobilized. Even the slightest tremor of her fingertips or the slightest movement of her eyes became sluggish, leaving no possibility for struggle. Under the candlelight, the gilded shackles gleamed coldly, forming a stark, painful contrast with the Princess's luxurious attire and delicate face, both beautiful and oppressive. Qing Muxue's fingertips froze in mid-air. She was suddenly stunned, her heart instantly turning cold, a deep sense of regret washing over her. She finally understood with dawning clarity the reason for the princess’s desperate, frantic obstruction just moments ago! This entire Phoenix Throne was a deadly cage, and the restraints binding her were not mere fetters, but the pre-set tumblers of a sophisticated mechanism. To untie any single knot would trigger the ultimate locking sequence, resulting in a more thorough and inescapable confinement. She gazed at the cold, gleaming golden shackles before her, her fingertips brushing against them. They felt hard and heavy, exquisitely crafted and securely locked, far surpassing ordinary iron. Even with her weapons and formidable prowess, it would take immense effort to hew through these layers of golden restraints, far more than a fleeting moment would allow. A moment of well-intentioned rescue had backfired spectacularly, completely trapping the Eldest Princess within this imperial prison. The candlelight in the grand hall flickered, casting dappled shadows that reflected the utter despair blooming in the Eldest Princess’s eyes, as well as the heavy solemnity and regret churning in Qing Mu Xue’s. The situation had plunged into an unsolvable abyss. The more hopeless the situation, the more Qing Mu Xue refused to yield. Having faced countless battles, she had never believed in fate or been confined by despair. Now, disarmed and locked down by intricate mechanisms, conventional methods were useless. A daring idea suddenly sparked in her mind. If she couldn't unlock the restraints, she would take the princess and the chair together. As long as they left this bizarre hall and found weapons and allies, there would be a way to break the locks and rescue the princess. Her resolve firm, Qing Mu Xue took a deep breath, steadied herself, and gripped the gilded base of the Phoenix Throne on either side. She channeled her strength from her waist through her shoulders and back, attempting to lift the entire throne, princess included. But as her fingers met the cold, heavy metal, she understood the futility of her effort. The Phoenix Throne was forged entirely from gilded iron, embedded with intricate mechanisms and locks. It weighed over a thousand pounds, its foundation as solid as a mountain. Despite her battlefield strength, the chair remained unmoving, firmly anchored to the bluestone floor, refusing to budge an inch. Her repeated attempts were in vain; the heavy iron chair seemed rooted to the ground, and the idea of moving it was pure fantasy. All methods proved useless, leaving only deathly silence and despair in the hall. At this moment, the Eldest Princess, tightly secured, began to struggle violently again. Tears streamed from her eyes, and choked, broken whimpers escaped her throat. Her breathing was ragged and urgent, as if she were expending her last reserves of strength to convey crucial information, each sound laden with extreme anxiety. Seeing this, Qing Mu Xue immediately leaned down, gently placing her ear near the princess’s lips, holding her breath, not missing a single sound. However, with her lips sealed and something in her mouth, the muffled sounds were obscure and tangled, blurred and fragmented. No matter how closely she listened, she could not discern any clear words, only a jumble of frantic sobs. In the end, she could only give up in frustration. With no hope of rescue and no discernible words, the layers of despair completely crushed the Eldest Princess’s spirit. The tears she had been holding back finally cascaded uncontrollably, rolling down her cheeks and soaking the stray hairs at her temples. Her shoulders trembled, and she sank into a state of extreme helplessness and fear, weeping with increasing sorrow and grievance. Watching the once regal, composed, and dignified Eldest Princess reduced to such a state, Qing Mu Xue’s heart ached with unbearable bitterness, filled with guilt and tenderness. She had to let go of her battlefield ferocity, soften her tone, and speak in a gentle, soothing voice, repeatedly calming the princess’s agitated mind. As she stayed close, she noticed more details that evoked pity. The princess’s prolonged struggle had left her tense and exhausted. Beneath the layers of luxurious robes, her skin was already soaked with fine sweat. Through the thin fabric, a faint warmth could be felt radiating from her skin, a testament to the immense effort she had expended and the suffering she had endured in her desperate struggle. Her delicate feet, clad in dark grey silk stockings with golden patterns, still moved faintly. Her toes curled and flexed, futilely attempting to break free from the restraints of the ropes and locks. But the pervasive confinement rendered all her small movements useless, leaving her trapped on the cold seat, only her disheveled state and exhaustion evident. The candlelight flowed, making the golden shackles gleam. These restraints, which locked her body, were not crude instruments of torture. Instead, they were carved with intricate, flowing cloud and phoenix patterns, the lines delicate and beautiful, blending seamlessly with the phoenix carvings on the chair. The gilded surface was lustrous, elegant, and refined, like a meticulously crafted heirloom artwork, so magnificent and beautiful that it was worthy of the highest imperial standards. Yet, this exquisitely elegant and beautiful artifact concealed the most insidious confinement and the cruelest of locks. Beneath the gleaming gilding was a bone-chilling cold; within the beautiful patterns lay an inescapable bondage. What appeared to be an unparalleled noble royal furnishing was, in reality, a brutal instrument of torture designed specifically for royalty. This extreme fusion of beauty and cruelty, of nobility and imprisonment, sent a chilling cold through Qing Mu Xue’s heart, making it clear that the architect of this scheme possessed a mind of terrifying ruthlessness and meticulous planning. To thoroughly examine all the locking mechanisms and find a sliver of hope for escape, Qing Mu Xue gritted her teeth and carefully lifted her hand, gently parting the layers of luxurious fabric in front of the princess, slowly opening the bodice. As the opulent robes were drawn back, the scene beneath was fully revealed. Beneath the Eldest Princess’s bodice, she wore only a simple, close-fitting chemise, covering her vital areas, with no other clothing to conceal her. What sent a shiver down Qing Mu Xue’s spine was that, in addition to the restraints on her limbs, waist, back, and neck that she had already seen, her entire body was entwined with a dense network of fine ropes. From head to toe, almost no inch of skin was spared. These fine ropes were different from the tight net that bound her limbs. Though they appeared loosely wrapped and lacked the power to fatally constrict, they were deliberately and meticulously applied. Her chest, abdomen, sides, neck, and hips were all encircled and crisscrossed by these fine, yet strong, ropes. The threads were thin but resilient, sinking slightly into her flesh, conforming to the contours of her skin, and firmly gripping every inch of her body. This kind of binding was never intended solely to restrict movement; it was more like deliberate humiliation and torment, using the most intricate restraints to bind and confine the body of a noblewoman of royal blood, leaving no room for slack. The dense inner ropes entwined her entire body, while the outer gilded shackles locked her bones, the two layers of restraint superimposed, complementing each other, fixing the Eldest Princess’s body to the Phoenix Throne. It was only now that Qing Mu Xue fully understood why the princess found even the slightest movement so incredibly difficult. The inner ropes locked the contours of her muscles, preventing any skin from stretching, while the outer metal shackles fixed her bones and body, locking all joint movement. The mechanism on the backrest adhered to her waist, and the mechanism on the floor pinned her feet. Multiple layers of confinement were stacked upon each other, effectively embedding her into the chair, rendering her as immobile as if cast in metal, with no possibility of escape. Beneath the endless confinement lay the Eldest Princess’s extreme pain and torment. She had never ceased her futile struggles. Her chest rose and fell slightly as she tried to gasp for breath, but the ropes around her neck tightened with any slight movement, forcing her to breathe shallowly, afraid to exert herself. Her abdomen contracted and writhed slightly, trying to alleviate the dull ache of the ropes digging into her flesh, but the dense net of ropes offered no respite. Every slight movement brought a dull pain as her muscles were pressed, a continuous wave of pain seeping into her limbs and bones. Her legs, bound together by the locks, flexed and extended feebly. The tips of her toes, covered in silk stockings with golden patterns, repeatedly curled and straightened. These subtle movements tugged at the ropes throughout her body, making the already embedded rope marks tighten further. The combined sensations of aching, stinging, and suffocating tightness swept over her entire body. Her body could only tremble and writhe imperceptibly within the gaps of the restraints. Such weak struggles were useless for escape; they only made the pain of confinement more sharp and piercing. Since she entered the hall to investigate, the Grand Princess's personal maid had remained standing beside the imperial seat, her back ramrod straight, hands clasped behind her, utterly motionless, like a silent stone sculpture. At first, she had assumed the maid was simply frozen by fear and the eerie atmosphere of the hall, adhering strictly to palace etiquette. Only now, upon hearing the faint, miserable whimpers, did she suddenly realize something was amiss. Qing Muxue abruptly turned her head, her gaze sharp and fixed on the maid. She scrutinized the woman intently, finally discerning the hidden layer of restraint concealed beneath the surface. The maid was dressed in a plain, courtly servant's gown. While it lacked the opulent grandeur and intricate golden embroidery of the Grand Princess's attire, it was still a royal uniform, crafted from fine fabric with subtle, elegant cloud patterns woven into the material. It was understated yet exuded an air of royal bearing, befitting someone serving a close mistress. Her posture was unnaturally rigid, unmoving from head to toe, a terrifying stillness that was far from human. The most damning flaw lay in her hands, clasped behind her back. At first glance, it appeared to be a common stance for palace maids. However, a closer inspection revealed that her hands were not voluntarily clasped but were bound tightly behind her back with fine ropes. The ropes were cinched firmly around her waist, digging into her flesh, locking her in place. Furthermore, a thick, solid wooden pole was fixed to her back, pressing against her spine and rigidly holding her upright. This pole secured her entire upper body, from shoulders to waist, forcing her to stand perfectly straight, incapable of even the slightest bend of her knees, bow, or sway. Her gaze slowly drifted downwards to the maid's legs, where more hidden restraints began to emerge. Her legs were encased in a pair of simple, white silk stockings. Unlike the Grand Princess's luxurious golden-patterned hosiery, the maid's stockings were clean and plain, devoid of any complex patterns, embodying a minimalist elegance befitting her station. Yet, it was precisely these plain white stockings that perfectly concealed the layers of bondage beneath. Her legs were crisscrossed and bound with a dense network of white cords. The ropes were tightly interwoven, constricting her leg muscles and blending almost seamlessly with the white silk. From a distance, the stockings appeared a pristine, translucent white, showing no sign of abnormality, no hint of binding. Only upon close inspection could one see the intricate web of ropes and restraints through the thin fabric. Mirroring the Grand Princess's method of restraint, the gaps between the maid's silk-stocking-clad legs were filled with a clear, viscous adhesive. This glue firmly bonded her legs together, preventing her knees from bending and her legs from parting, sealing them into a single, unmoving line and completely immobilizing her lower body. But the most peculiar and insidious restraint was on her feet. Her slender feet were not placed in separate shoes but were forced together into a single, oversized court shoe. Her feet were pressed together, molded and secured within the confines of the shoe, leaving no room for movement or leverage. One shoe locked both feet, completely eliminating any possibility of standing, stepping, or shifting her weight. Rope bindings, adhesive glue, a supporting pole, and a shoe lock – four layers of restraint stacked upon each other, pinning the personal maid immovably in the hall. Her posture was stiff and straight, like a deliberately fixed mannequin. Her earlier sweat-soaked, rigid stillness, her inability to speak – all of it now made perfect sense. The entire Qiluan Hall, mistress and servant alike, was ensnared. The opulent phoenix throne was a beautiful instrument of torture, and the plainly dressed maid was a trapped puppet. The gilded lamplight and magnificent architecture of the hall had, in the end, revealed themselves to be an inescapable, impenetrable prison. Qing Muxue's gaze deepened as she continued to probe the maid's restraints, her heart sinking further at the meticulous cruelty of the person behind this. Previously, she had only seen the maid's hands bound behind her back. Now, upon closer inspection, she realized the restraints were far more severe and insidious than she had imagined. Her plain hands, clasped behind her, were also wrapped and tightened with layers of smooth, peculiar silk. Unlike the Grand Princess's separately bound hands, the maid's hands were completely fused together, twisted into a single, tight, rounded ball of silk. Her fingers were interlocked and locked, her palms and wrists pressed together, leaving no space. Under such restraint, not only was struggling impossible, but even the slightest tremor of her fingertips was prevented, rendering her hands utterly lifeless. Even more bizarre was the outer layer of silk, which had a faintly damp, cool, and sticky texture. It felt moist and taut to the touch. Without needing to discern further, she could be certain that the interior of the silk was coated with a special adhesive, bonding her skin, fingers, and the silk itself, locking it from the inside out and completely eliminating any possibility of escape by hand. Her gaze moved upwards, settling on the maid's face, where a subtle yet crude disguise revealed a critical flaw. Beneath her nose and mouth, just like the Grand Princess, was a wide strip of flesh-colored adhesive tape, perfectly covering her mouth and sealing off all channels of sound. To deceive the eye and conceal the restraint, someone had meticulously used exquisite lipstick to outline a complete set of lips on the surface of the tape, creating a vibrant, well-formed, false mouth that was lifelike enough to be mistaken for the real thing. At that very moment, several black-clad palace maids standing by stepped forward in unison, each holding a giant royal feather fan. The fan surfaces were broad and exquisitely crafted, made of luxurious materials, originally elegant tools for the Emperor, Empress, and princesses to ward off summer heat and stir the air. Now, they were being employed in such a sinister and restrictive scene. With practiced coordination, they positioned themselves to encircle the Second Princess, raising their arms and fanning simultaneously. A gentle but firm breeze spread from the fan surfaces, steadily enveloping the Second Princess's entire body. The warm air, slightly cool, brushed repeatedly against her form, which was wrapped in layers of silk cloth. Initially, she only felt a light breeze on her face, but within moments, the Second Princess clearly perceived a change throughout her body. The specially formulated viscous fluid, which had still retained a slight damp stickiness, began to evaporate at an accelerated rate under the continuous airflow. It dried and solidified rapidly, visibly so. What followed was a more potent, more extreme sensation of tightening and restraint that swept over her entire body. The previously soft and clinging silk cloth, completely devoid of moisture, became hard and taut. Each layer of wrapping tightened abruptly, biting deeply into her flesh and muscles, its adhesive strength increasing manifold. Her pupils contracted sharply, her heart plummeted, and her eyes, filled with terror, darted down to her own body. She cried out in a choked voice, "What are you doing?! What kind of wicked binding technique is this!" She saw how the layers of interwoven, still slightly textured silk cloth, as the viscous fluid completely dried and solidified, had their edges slowly adhere, merge, and butt against each other. The horizontal and vertical textures connected and fused, filling and smoothing out the previously fine gaps. The stacked silk cloth had completely become one, seamless and natural, its surface smooth and even, with not a single gap or break to be found. At this moment, where were the traces of cloth strips binding her? Her entire body was as if completely encased and sealed by a layer of hard, smooth, magnificent shell, integrated into a single, airtight unit. An extreme rage and despair surged through the Second Princess. She clenched her teeth tightly, her voice low and sharp, "Such cruel intentions! Leaving no gaps, do you intend to suffocate me alive?!" Previously, the layers of wrapping had had textured gaps, perhaps offering a slim chance of breaking free. But now, the silk cloth had completely fused into one, transforming into a custom-made rigid shell that locked down her form and muscles entirely. This solidified restraint was far more tenacious than ordinary binding. Forget human strength; even with full force collisions and tearing, there was no way to break free, completely extinguishing any thoughts of escape or liberation. A torrent of frustration and despair filled her chest, making her breath catch. A fierce glint flickered in her eyes, yet she was powerless to resist. But just as she was nearing despair, her body underwent a peculiar change that made her suddenly freeze. After the silk cloth had completely dried and hardened, and fused into one, the sensation of stiff, restricted joints that had locked her in place quietly receded. She clearly sensed that the range of motion in her neck, waist, knees, and ankles had, in fact, become smoother and more natural. The joints, previously tightly constricted by multiple layers of cloth, now broke free from the rigid pulling of the layers. Encased within the one-piece rigid silk shell, they possessed a reasonable range of movement. She could slightly turn her neck, bend her waist, arch her back, and stretch her legs a small amount. Her body was no longer completely stiff and rigid as before, finally escaping the predicament where even an inch of movement was difficult, and regaining basic bodily flexibility. However, this looseness was ultimately insignificant. She could twist, arch, and stretch slightly, but still could not raise her hands, bend her knees, or take a step. Her limbs remained firmly bound together, her overall form still rigidly shaped by the hard silk shell. All her movements were restricted to extremely small amplitudes, making any action of escape or resistance impossible. Her gaze shifted downwards, and she could only watch helplessly as her exposed toes at the ends of the silk cloth and stockings repeatedly curled, stretched, and wiggled in futile desperation. These tiny toes were the only part of her entire body that could truly move freely at this moment, the only part that could still express a sliver of defiance. They were humble and pathetic, and utterly glaring. Extreme humiliation and unwillingness gripped the Second Princess's mind. She refused to be defeated and resigned. She raised her eyes to glare at the servants standing around, smirking, and forced out a sharp, ragged curse from her throat, each word laced with fury, "A bunch of short-sighted, traitorous slaves! Do you think you can control me with your underhanded, venomous tricks?!" Her voice trembled with struggle, yet it still retained the fierce aura of a royal princess. Even in this desperate situation, she never bowed her head in submission. Amidst her curses, she mustered all her remaining strength to try and struggle to her feet, wanting to escape her humiliating prone position. But her body had been completely fixed by the one-piece silk shell. Her entire person was stiff and regular, like a heavy, solidified meat stump, utterly lacking in flexibility. Every movement was comically clumsy. She strained to arch her back, her body twisting violently in small movements, and roared with unwillingness, "Let me go! I've fought on battlefields for years, and never suffered such humiliation!" She strained to arch her waist and twist her body slightly, exerting force several times to straighten her form and push herself up from the ground. But her limbs were tightly bound together, her feet completely wrapped and adhered by the silk cloth, offering no leverage. Her heavy, stiff body was beyond her control. Every attempt ended in failure, and after several futile struggles, she had exhausted her meager strength. She could only allow her body to sway slightly, unable to stand upright on her own. After several clumsy, unsuccessful struggles, she had no other choice but to laboriously turn to her side, leaning against the cold courtyard wall behind her as her sole support. Using the wall's resistance, she slowly, inch by inch, moved and straightened her body, barely managing to stand steadily. But even standing precariously, her posture bore no resemblance to her usual valiant and upright demeanor. She swayed and tottered throughout the process. Her feet were tightly bound and encased by the silk cloth, leaving no room for separation or stepping. Her legs were straight and stiff, making it impossible to stand stably. The Second Princess, once a formidable presence in the palace, renowned for her martial prowess and unmatched skill within the imperial confines, stood tall and unyielding. Her bearing commanded respect, even from the elite imperial guards, a dazzling imperial daughter whose nobility and assertiveness deterred any who dared to cross her. Yet, now, her peerless martial arts were rendered useless, her proud spirit crushed under layers of restraint. She could only maintain a precarious, awkward stance, a picture of utter humiliation and abject subservience. The more opulent her makeup and adornments, the more absurd and degrading her current state appeared. The once celebrated and decorated Second Princess of the royal family, now fallen on hard times, was reduced to a spectacle, an object of mockery and ridicule. The sight stirred a bitter ache in the hearts of onlookers, accompanied by a profound sense of lament. Her eyes blazed with an all-consuming hatred, each word laced with a chilling frost. Gritting her teeth, she swore, "Every humiliation I endure today, I will remember. Should I ever escape this predicament, I will make those who have shamed and imprisoned me pay with their blood, without mercy!" This iron-willed oath, however, did not instill fear. Instead, it ignited an unrestrained wave of laughter among the assembled servants. The surrounding imperial guards and black-clad maids threw their heads back, their boisterous, mocking laughter echoing through the elegant courtyard, a jarring and arrogant symphony that shattered the last vestiges of solemnity in the royal villa. Their eyes held no trace of reverence, only contempt and disdain, utterly disregarding the plight of the Second Princess. "Pay with their blood?" a soldier scoffed, his tone dripping with condescension. "Her Highness can barely stand, let alone protect herself. What will she use to settle the score with us?" Another maid, covering her mouth with a delicate laugh, her eyes glinting with dismissive amusement, chimed in, "The once mighty War Goddess Princess is now nothing more than a living puppet, bound by silk, unable to move or lift a hand. And she dares to make threats?" "In my opinion, Your Highness will never escape this situation!" Their taunts, unrestrained and layered, each word a deliberate blow to her dignity, reduced her past glories and royal pride to nothing. They saw clearly that the Second Princess, despite her noble status and burning hatred, possessed no means of resistance. Her threats were merely the impotent pronouncements of a powerless individual, pathetic and hollow. The eunuch in purple, standing at the forefront, a sinister, playful smile gracing his lips, gestured for quiet. He took a languid step forward, his voice lazy yet arrogant, "Since Your Highness is making such bold threats, this servant will test your resolve. How do you intend to punish us now?" Before his words fully registered, he extended a hand and gave a gentle push, not forceful, but precisely aimed at the Second Princess's unbalanced shoulder. Already swaying and struggling to maintain her footing, her body rigid and unstable, she possessed no capacity to brace herself. This slight nudge was like a destructive force, instantly robbing her stiffened frame of all balance. With a soft thud, her ornate, rigid body toppled backward, crashing heavily onto the cold, smooth bluestone floor. The impact of her gilded silk-wrapped form against the ground, while not causing grievous physical injury, sent waves of powerlessness and humiliation through her. Her body lay stiff and straight, her limbs fixed together, rendering her unable to raise a hand to break her fall or bend her knees to absorb the impact. She could only lie there, stiff and unyielding, her jeweled crown askew, her vibrant makeup undisturbed, making her current predicament all the more absurd and laughable. "Shameless dog! How dare you push me!" The Second Princess's fury surged, her eyes turning a furious crimson. The extreme anger and humiliation overwhelmed all restraint. Gritting her teeth, she cursed vehemently, her chest heaving, hatred almost seeping from her very flesh. But no matter how furiously she roared, her body remained beyond her control. Encased in a rigid silk shell, she lay sprawled on the ground, her arms bound behind her back and her legs held taut and together, unable to open or bend. She had lost all ability to rise, evade, or resist. She could only strain her waist and contort her body, relying on the minimal flexibility in her joints, to twist and writhe in small, slow movements on the cold bluestone. Her once agile and sharp movements, her fluid evasions, were gone. Now, she was like a small insect, its strength sapped and its body trapped, only able to futilely and clumsily wriggle on the ground. Her movements were small and comical, the epitome of disgrace, and far from intimidating anyone, they only fueled the servants' increasingly boisterous laughter. "Hahaha! Look at the Princess! She's utterly hilarious!" "She can't even move, and she wants to settle the score with us? What a joke!" The piercing jeers echoed in her ears, repeatedly crushing her last vestiges of dignity. The surrounding palace scenery only served to highlight her current desolation and humiliation. This was the Second Princess's private residence, her personal domain for living, resting, and overseeing affairs, far more exquisite and luxurious than other palaces. The courtyard was spacious and open, with no high walls to obstruct the view, allowing ample sunlight to stream down, bathing the entire bluestone floor in a bright, clear, and warm radiance. Dozens of rare potted plants were meticulously arranged around the courtyard, all precious flora and fauna gifted from the southern territories. Ancient pines, elegant orchids, and vibrant crabapple blossoms were ordered with precision, their branches lush and green, swaying gracefully in the breeze, releasing a subtle fragrance. The jade-colored flowerpots were exquisite and refined, complementing the pavilions, carved railings, and gilded pillars, exuding an air of refined elegance and the unique grandeur befitting an imperial daughter. Every blade of grass, every leaf, every brick, and every tile bore testament to her past supreme glory. In other words, her innocent personal guards and trusted confidantes within the manor, though currently suffering humiliation and unjust imprisonment under the control of the Fifth Princess and the rebel faction, were not in mortal danger. They would not be executed or slaughtered. Ultimately, they would all be escorted to a secret prison, much like the two princesses within the palace, to be confined and heavily guarded for an extended period, serving as pawns for the enemy to manipulate the court and balance various forces. Knowing that her subordinates were safe, merely enduring temporary suffering, humiliation, and confinement, Qing Mu Xue's chaotic and anxious heart finally settled. She took a deep breath, suppressing all tenderness and rage in her eyes, and continued to conceal herself in the dark alley, quietly watching the loyal subordinates, bound and gagged, their muffled whimpers the only sounds, being slowly escorted by the imperial guards towards the waiting prison carts parked by the roadside. But the scene that met her eyes the next moment caused the receding chill in Qing Mu Xue's eyes to surge once more—the calculations and caution of this rebel faction were far more meticulous, ruthless, and watertight than she had anticipated. As soon as the female guards were roughly shoved onto the prison carts, the imperial guards immediately stepped forward to reinforce their restraints, leaving no room for escape. Their ankles, which had previously allowed a small range of motion, were now tightly bound with layers upon layers of thick rope, coiled and cinched, leaving no slack. Their calves, merely held together, were crisscrossed and bound by ropes, immobilizing their bones, flesh, and skin, rendering their legs completely immobile. The confinement was even meticulously detailed to the extreme. Even their bare feet and drooping heels were firmly secured and bound by ropes, sealing their entire legs from thigh to sole, completely locking down all limb movement. From head to toe, the only part of their bodies that could still move slightly were their slender toes, tightly encased in black silk stockings, weakly curling and trembling beneath the layers of restraint, appearing exceptionally helpless. Not only had the physical restraint been upgraded, but their mouths were also re-sealed. The outer edges of their lips, which had only been loosely sealed before, were now covered with a specially made, stronger, and more airtight thick tape. It was rapidly and repeatedly wrapped and pressed down, adhering firmly to the skin, completely sealing the seams of their lips and jaw. This seal was far tighter and more secure than the previous one, firmly fixing the cloth inside, preventing even the faintest puff of air or whimper from escaping, turning them into silent, trapped beasts. Finally, even their slender hands, barely exposed from the wooden stocks, did not escape reinforcement. The imperial guards produced the same type of sealing tape, meticulously wrapping and folding it in layers around each hand, firmly securing and clenching their fingers into a compact mass. Each small hand was ultimately wrapped into a round, soft, and powerless cute little ball, hanging limply on either side of the stocks, completely losing all ability to grip, struggle, or move. In mere moments, the female guards, who had previously retained a sliver of subtle movement, were completely and comprehensively restrained. Their bodies were stiff, their limbs locked, their mouths sealed, and every last possibility of struggle was stripped away. They could only stand passively on the prison cart, swaying with its movement, carried along by the flow. Qing Mu Xue watched all this from the dark alley, her heart growing heavier. She clearly saw that the Fifth Princess and the rebel faction's methods of taming and confining were exquisitely detailed and incrementally locking, leaving no possibility of escape for anyone who fell into their hands. The humiliation and restraint her subordinates were enduring at that moment were a hundred times more severe than she had imagined. In the pitch-black night, the wheels of the prison cart rumbled over the bluestone slabs, emitting a dull, creaking sound as they slowly carried the heavily restrained subordinates away, eventually disappearing at the end of the street. Qing Mu Xue stood in the shadows, suppressing the surging sorrow and anger in her chest. She knew clearly that this was not the time to indulge in sentimentality and waste precious time. The entire imperial city had been fully ensnared. Every moment she lingered increased the risk of exposure and death. She had to seize the remaining window of the night to quickly contact the loyal forces still remaining in the court. Composing her scattered thoughts, Qing Mu Xue did not delay. Taking advantage of the deep night and the empty streets, her figure once again transformed into a shadow, swiftly weaving through the alleys of the imperial city. A sliver of hope remained in her heart: several generals and civil officials in the court who had long stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her and held upright stances were all loyal individuals. If they had not been implicated, they could gather their strength to resist the rebel faction together, rescue everyone, and clear their names. Her first destination was the residence of the General of Zhenxi. In the past, they had supported each other on the frontier and shared the same heart in court, their bond being the deepest. However, before she could even approach the manor gate, a faint yet familiar muffled whimpering sound drifted faintly over the high courtyard walls, fragmented and suppressed, identical to the groans of her subordinates after being gagged that she had just heard. Qing Mu Xue's steps abruptly halted, her heart sinking. Her figure flickered, and she nimbly leaped onto an old tree by the alley. Using the branches for cover, she sprang up, quietly landing on the high wall of the manor, and peered inside. The scene within the courtyard was piercing and chilling. The entire manor had already been sealed off by the imperial guards. Armored soldiers stood in ranks, their blades reflecting the cold light of the night. Countless patrolling imperial guards moved about, conducting a thorough search and arrest within the manor. The once solemn and orderly general's residence was now in utter chaos, the entire courtyard filled with panicked figures and low shouts. All the female family members and personal female guards within the manor were caught without exception, controlled on the spot and restrained immediately. Some had their limbs bound by thick ropes, their waists and legs tightened; others were confined by wooden stocks, their heads fixed; and countless others had cloth stuffed into their mouths and sealed with tape, their mouths and tongues completely shut. All the loyal women in the courtyard had been reduced to prisoners at the mercy of others, unable to utter a single cry or question, only able to repeatedly let out muffled, helpless whimpers that echoed throughout the courtyard, mournful and desperate. Qing Mu Xue's expression turned cold, her fingertips digging fiercely into the bricks of the wall. The last shred of luck in her heart shattered completely. She dared not delay. She immediately flipped over the wall and rushed to the residence of another favored minister. But the outcome was the same. Before she could get close, familiar muffled whimpers could be heard from within the courtyard walls. Peeking over the wall, she saw the exact same scene: imperial guards conducting a large-scale search, and all the female family members and female guards within the manor were restrained, gagged, and detained, without exception. The viscous fluid was thick and dense, like a form-fitting, impermeable latex suit, pressing tightly against every inch of her flesh, rigidly immobilizing her form without any slack. Most bizarre were her arms, forcibly bent and twisted behind her back by the goo. Layer upon layer of the gelatinous substance had been repeatedly bonded, piled, and solidified, sealing them together seamlessly. Viewed from the front, not the slightest outline of her arms was visible, as if she had been born without them. Only her slender neck connected to her shapely waist, creating a posture that was both strange and stiff, exuding an unspeakable sense of suffocation and discomfort. The surface of the dark, purplish-black gel was not inert. Upon closer inspection, a faint, flowing light could be seen slowly traversing it. The entire membranous film of the fluid was subtly undulating, as if it were a living organism, constantly maintaining its vitality, rigidly locking her body, and suppressing the residual strength within her. Shen Wanning's eyes were slightly open, her consciousness still clear, yet her entire body was stiff and numb. She couldn't even make the slightest movement to raise her hand or turn her head. She could only stand passively in place, her body imprisoned by the bizarre fluid, her eyes filled with helplessness and torment. "Don't be afraid, I'll save you." Qing Muxue's heart tightened. Without delay, she quickly stepped forward, carefully lifting the stiff Shen Wanning into her arms and steadily carrying her into the dry cave, gently placing her on the flat, rocky ground. After settling her, she immediately set about trying to break through this strange, poisonous fluid and save her companion, her urgency driving her to try every feasible method. She first raised her hand and lit the dry branches on the cave wall, igniting a warm fire. She brought the open flame close to the surface of the fluid, repeatedly scorching and burning it with high heat. However, the peculiar gel, which was impervious to snow and cold, was completely unaffected by the flames. Its surface became slightly warm, but there was no sign of melting, loosening, or peeling. The rhythm of its undulation remained steady, unyielding and fearless of the raging fire. Fire proved ineffective, so she immediately changed tactics. Gripping the remaining half of the broken blade in her hand, she carefully placed the sharp edge against her skin, gently attempting to cut and pry at the surface of the fluid. But the gel was extremely resilient. The blade would only sink slightly when struck, unable to cut through it at all. After several attempts at chopping, not even a sliver of debris was scraped off. Instead, her own hand was left numb from the repeated impacts. With the knife useless and the fire fruitless, seeing Shen Wanning's increasingly stiffening body and the pain she was suppressing in her eyes, Qing Muxue could no longer hold back. She discarded her weapon, leaned down, and with her fingertips, gripped the thinnest gap at the edge of the gel. Enduring the sticky, cold sensation, she gritted her teeth and exerted force, tearing at it with all her might. Her fingertips strained and pulled, finally managing to tear off a small, fragmented piece of the gel, which she casually flung onto the rocky ground beside them. But a bizarre scene instantly unfolded: the skin where the gap had been was immediately and rapidly covered by the flowing fluid, as if it had never been damaged. In an instant, it was once again filled, conforming to the flesh, restoring its complete and sealed state. No matter how many times she tore at it, no matter how many fragments she dug out, the void was always instantly filled by the fluid, an endless cycle that could not break through the confinement at all. With all her attempts having failed, Qing Muxue withdrew her hands and stood, gazing at the purplish-black gel suit that still rigidly locked Shen Wanning, subtly undulating, and at Shen Wanning, unable to move, enduring the torment of her confinement. A heavy sense of powerlessness finally clouded her eyes. After much struggle, fire, knife, and tearing all proved useless. She had exhausted her remaining strength in repeated attempts, not only failing to free her companion from her confinement but also pushing herself to the absolute limit. The continuous fighting and fleeing for days had already depleted her stamina. The continuous tearing, probing, and exertion had completely broken down her body's defenses. Her legs suddenly gave way, and Qing Muxue could no longer hold herself up. She collapsed onto the cold cave floor, utterly drained, her back leaning against the rough cave wall. Her chest heaved violently, her heavy, rapid breaths echoing through the quiet cave. Her entire body ached with exhaustion, her fingertips trembled slightly, and she had completely lost the strength to even lift her hands. Her mind was filled only with the weariness of futility and a deep sense of defeat. It wasn't just them. The warhorses that had carried them were also at their limit. After desperately fleeing their pursuers and entering the open space beside the cave, they could no longer endure. Their legs buckled, and they collapsed heavily onto the snow, their nostrils expelling thick white mist. Their muscles twitched slightly, and they had completely lost the strength to stand, lying there to recover, no longer capable of galloping. Inside the cave, the wind and snow were completely shut out, leaving only a silent, oppressive stillness. Shen Wanning, completely encased in the purplish-black fluid, had not completely given up struggling. With the last vestiges of her strength, she subtly shifted and wriggled her body. Relying on her remaining clear consciousness, she carefully analyzed the bizarre secret technique that was imprisoning her. Her voice was hoarse and weak, her breaths intermittent, as she slowly began to analyze: "When I traveled the southwestern border in my early years, I did indeed hear tales of giant蛊 worms in the wild regions of Yunnan's deep mountains, which spat out viscous蛊 fluid to entangle and capture prey." She paused slightly, feeling the strange, vibrant state of the fluid on her body, her eyes filled with solemnity and confusion. "But ordinary worm蛊 fluid is passively sticky and adheres to things; it doesn't secrete itself or spread wantonly, let alone possess such a bizarre force, forcibly twisting human joints and immobilizing limbs." "Even if ordinary fluid is viscous and tough, it can be broken by brute force or scorching heat. But this thing is impervious to water and fire, cannot be torn, and cannot be broken." Shen Wanning's mind grew clearer, and she said, word by word, "This is not natural蛊 fluid at all. It is a secret poison蛊 gel that has been carefully modified, refined, and altered by someone. It is specifically designed to imprison living people, making it unsolvable and troublesome, far beyond ordinary江湖蛊术." As her words fell, she still refused to give up. Enduring the stiffness and soreness of her muscles, she tried to twist her body slightly, exerting force to struggle with her arms, wanting to break free from the confinement of the gel behind her. But her arms, rigidly fixed and completely taut by the fluid, had no room for movement. With the slightest twist and pull, her shoulder joints instantly sent a piercing pain through her, and a bone-dislocating ache swept through her entire body, nearly dislocating her shoulder. A Daoist of indeterminate age, gaunt and hunched, entered. His eyes were narrow and shadowed, his hair a wild tangle falling to his shoulders, his eyebrows curled and messy. A full beard, equally coiled and knotted, framed a bizarre and unsettling face. His oversized black robe was densely embroidered with faintly glowing purple, arcane runes that flickered with an unstable, ethereal light, exuding an aura of sinister, unfathomable sorcery. The old Daoist glided into the secret chamber, his presence exuding a chilling, eerie aura. Though his steps were slow, they carried an intimidating pressure. The Fourth Princess, who had been visibly weary and swaying moments before, froze completely the instant the old Daoist appeared, not a tremor left in her. She became like an exquisite, cold golden automaton, all independent posture shed. Her spine straightened rigidly, her armored arms clamped tightly to her sides, unwilling to bend or shift even an inch. Her legs, encased in black silk, stood perfectly together, toes aligned. Her posture was precise, stiff, and utterly immobile. Her helmet sat level, and through the visor's slit, her eyes stared blankly ahead, devoid of any spark of life, replaced by absolute, cold, utter obedience. From his perch on the ceiling beams, Qing Mu Xue held his breath, his heart clenching as he stared at the scene below, afraid to even breathe too heavily. What unfolded before him transcended mere battlefield confrontation; it was a forbidden tableau of dark arts and arcane secrets, so bizarre it made his scalp crawl. The old Daoist in the purple-patterned black robe remained impassive, as if accustomed to such sights. Without a flicker of emotion, he slowly raised a hand. His withered, calloused fingers precisely found the clasps on the Fourth Princess's shoulder armor. His movements were practiced and steady, unhurried. His fingertips traced the patterns on the armor, and the soft clicks of release echoed sharply in the deathly silence of the chamber. Piece by piece, the gilded heavy armor was removed, landing with dull, heavy thuds. As the opulent, sharp outer shell was peeled away, revealing what lay beneath, there was no warm, living skin. Instead, a cold, intricate, and chillingly gleaming golden metallic structure met the eye. Qing Mu Xue's pupils contracted sharply, a bone-deep chill seizing him. From her head to her shoulders, her waist to her limbs, every joint of the Fourth Princess was covered and encased in fine, exquisitely crafted golden metallic components. The articulated joints at her shoulders, the gears at her elbows, the locking rings at her waist, the telescopic struts at her knees, even the minute articulation of her fingertips – all were seamlessly integrated and fixed with gold. These metallic components perfectly conformed to her body's contours, merging flawlessly with her flesh, rigidly locking every limb and joint, shaping her entire form into a fixed structure. She was no longer a living royal princess, but a mere puppet, her every action dictated by precise mechanical contrivances. Her everyday movements, her ability to walk and stand, even her peerless swordsmanship on the battlefield – none of it was her own doing. It was all driven and precisely controlled by the mechanical mechanisms within her golden shell. The old Daoist looked down at the exquisitely crafted puppet, now utterly subservient and defenseless. He saw the suppressed breakdown and helplessness in her eyes, and a sinister smile crept back onto his face. His voice was cold and cruel, each word a poisoned reprimand: "You shall scratch yourself now, and endure it well." Most horrifying of all was the large, intricately patterned metallic core embedded in her spine, protruding from the center of her back. It was a palm-sized assembly of interlocking gears, sprockets, and slots – the power source for the entire automaton, firmly controlling the movement of every metallic joint. He paused, then lifted a finger, subtly adjusting the locking parameters of the core mechanism, completely eliminating any possibility of rest. His tone dripped with absolute, mocking control: "Tomorrow, you will march into battle, and the mechanisms will fully control your body. You will need no strength, no thought of your own. Tonight, you need only bear the punishment and be a mere ornament to be manipulated." "Tonight, there will be no rest, no respite. You will be scratched for the entire night. It matters not if you are left weak, exhausted, and collapsing on the ground by the end." The Fourth Princess, trapped alone, felt her mind teetering on the brink of madness. An entire night of relentless itching? The thought struck her like lightning, making her skin crawl and a profound chill course through her. She knew too well the horror of such an inescapable torment. In just a few hours, it had already brought her to the verge of death, tears streaming down her face. The thought of enduring it for an entire night, without cessation, was unimaginable. She would likely be driven to unconsciousness by the incessant itch, and even then, the mechanisms would likely not cease. As his chilling words fell, the old Daoist lingered no longer. He turned and swept out. The heavy stone door of the secret chamber slowly slid shut, the locking mechanism engaging with a decisive click. The soundproofing barrier reactivated, sealing the prison completely, cutting off all external sound and any possibility of rescue. Only the Fourth Princess remained, trapped in an endless inferno of despair. The gilded mechanisms continued their high-speed operation, the incessant, eerie grinding of metal on metal filling the silent chamber. Her arms, beyond her control, moved stiffly and precisely, her fingers relentlessly seeking out the most sensitive, ticklish spots on her body. It was precisely because of these inescapable metallic restraints that her expression on the battlefield was so fractured, her eyes hiding such pain. Every strike, every powerful blow, was the mechanism forcibly driving her body, a brutal contortion against the natural order of flesh and bone. She endured agonizing pain every second, yet the arcane arts forcibly suppressed her consciousness and locked her actions, forcing her to feign ferocity and fight through the agony. What plunged her into deeper despair was the sight of her uncontrolled arms shifting their movements, stiffly lifting, repeatedly stroking and caressing her delicate, pale face. The gentle touch carried a bizarre mockery, making her cheeks flush and tingle, intensifying the shame and torment in her heart. Fingertips, sometimes tapping lightly, sometimes stroking gently, precisely traced over the tender, ticklish flesh of her armpits, waist, and lower abdomen, a layered itch spreading wildly along her muscles. Immediately after, her hands, beyond her control, slid down, firmly covering her slender legs clad in black silk. They rubbed and massaged repeatedly, even the most sensitive and vulnerable soles of her silk-clad feet were repeatedly teased and caressed by fingertips, an unsolvable itch instantly engulfing her limbs. She desperately pleaded with the last vestiges of her consciousness, begging for mercy, repeatedly apologizing in her heart, yearning for someone to stop this cruel torture. But the vast secret chamber was empty, and besides herself, there was no one else to hear. Her mouth had long been locked by mechanisms, her lips unable to part, her tongue immobile. All her pleas and cries were trapped deep within her throat. She could only emit muffled, broken, meaningless whimpers, the faint sounds echoing in the sealed chamber, leaving only endless frustration and helplessness. The thought that the long night had just begun, that several more hours of unsolvable itching torture would slowly descend, that she would have to endure this maddening torment alone all night, shattered the fourth princess's spirit. Crystal tears surged like a broken dam, rolling down her cheeks in large drops, soaking the collar of her clothes. Her stiffly standing body trembled uncontrollably, the extreme itchiness, shame, and despair layering upon each other, almost crushing her very soul. No one pitied her breakdown, no one redeemed her suffering, and no one called a halt to this endless torment. On the roof beam, Qing Muxue held her breath, hidden, taking in the tragic and desperate scene below. Watching the once gentle and noble royal daughter reduced to a pitiful puppet controlled by mechanisms, torturing herself, enduring this inhuman torture alone, silently collapsing and begging for mercy, her heart was instantly filled with overwhelming bitterness and rage. Her fingertips clenched tightly, her knuckles turning white, yet she dared not make a sound, forcing herself to suppress her emotions and continue her hidden investigation. But no matter how terrified or how broken her heart was, her body was already completely beyond her control. All the defiance, all the battlefield slaughter, had never been her true intention, merely the cold programs preset by the puppet mechanisms. The old Daoist lowered his gaze, appraising the perfect metal puppet before him with a detached expression. He slowly walked around to the fourth princess's back, facing the core metal movement. He took out a specially made, ancient-looking bronze winding key from his black robe sleeve, aimed it at the keyhole in the center of the movement, and with unhurried, steady force, began to turn. *Click-click—Click-click—* The muffled, fine sound of gears turning echoed repeatedly in the secret chamber, particularly chilling. As the spring was wound tighter, the golden metal joints all over the fourth princess's body vibrated slightly, interlocking with a fine clicking sound. Her previously completely stiff body tensed slightly, mechanical force gradually filling her entire being. Her previously vacant, dazed eyes slowly focused, covered by a layer of cold, hollow mechanical vitality. Throughout the entire process, she never made a single voluntary movement or showed any emotion, like a puppet completely stripped of consciousness and freedom, standing still, allowing the old Daoist to adjust the mechanisms and wind the spring, waiting to be controlled once more to charge into battle and fight to the death. Qing Muxue on the roof beam felt a chill run through her body, finally understanding all the truth. The fourth princess had never betrayed the dynasty, never rebelled. The so-called rebel commander, the god of war on the battlefield, the traitor who berated the loyalist army, had been, from beginning to end, nothing more than a metal puppet jointly created by the fifth princess and this strange old Daoist. Looking at the entire scene from above, Qing Muxue finally unraveled all the bizarre mysteries that had been lingering in her mind, and understood the true purpose of the thickened, matte black silk covering her. The thickened, opaque black silk covering the fourth princess's legs was never for battlefield appearance, nor was it decorative. The thick, tight silk layers concealed and tightly covered, perfectly encasing her entire leg shape, allowing no light or texture to show through. It precisely hid the dense, fine metal components on the back of her legs, buried beneath her skin. These exquisite, cold, tiny metal structures followed the veins of her leg bones, extending from the back of her thighs all the way down to her calves, ankles, and even every movable joint of her feet. They were firmly embedded in her flesh and bone, locking down the entire range of motion of her legs. From head to shoulders, waist, abdomen, arms, and down to her feet, not an inch of her skin, not a single joint, escaped the restraint of the mechanisms. The walking, the battlefield maneuvers, the charging and slashing, even the slight swaying when standing on the battlefield, that the world saw, were never her own controlled movements, but the result of the interlocking and transmission of the metal mechanisms beneath her skin, driven by machinery. The former frail palace lady, who could barely lift heavy objects, could not have overnight mastered military strategy and honed peerless swordsmanship, nor could she have crushed battle-hardened border generals with her physical strength. Her invincible warrior posture on the battlefield, her grand and powerful sword techniques, and her precise and decisive battlefield tactics, contained no trace of her own martial arts cultivation. They were entirely the preset killing programs and fixed mechanical moves of this extremely precise, full-body metal puppet mechanism. Even the words of her berating the loyalist army, the fierce provocations, and the contrast between the pain hidden in her eyes and the forced ferocity, were the extreme pull between the mechanical control of her body and the sealing of her spirit with secret arts. Her body was forcibly driven by machinery to establish authority, while her consciousness retained the perception of the fourth princess. The mechanical operation of every move and every stance tore at her flesh and tormented her mind, forcing her to silently endure endless pain and despair in unseen corners. She was never a traitor, only a pitiful sacrifice, completely stripped of her freedom, her body imprisoned, her words and actions controlled, forced to stand against her own kin, becoming a weapon for power struggles. The old Daoist finished winding the spring, confirming that the metal mechanisms throughout her body were fully charged and operating smoothly. His indifferent eyes showed no ripple of emotion. He then raised his hand, his fingertips carrying a chilling coldness, and directly touched the fourth princess's tense jaw. He applied slight pressure with his fingertips, skillfully and roughly prying it open with a soft click. The fourth princess's mouth was forced open, revealing her neat teeth and pink oral cavity. Qing Muxue, hidden on the roof beam, her gaze suddenly sharpened. A chill surged through her heart once more, and another layer of mind-bending truth was revealed. She saw that between the fourth princess's upper and lower teeth, there were also finely crafted silver mechanical pivots, firmly connecting to the musculature of her jaw, precisely controlling the opening, closing, and tension of her mouth. Not only that, but her entire tongue was covered by a transparent, bizarre thin film, as thin as a cicada's wing, adhering to the muscle. It appeared seamless and invisible, but in reality, it firmly locked the tip of her tongue and controlled all its movements. As Qing Muxue completely abandoned her resistance, her killing intent dissipating, the old Taoist hidden behind the Fourth Princess’s back flashed a sinister, triumphant smile in his eyes. The frost on his face lessened, but he showed no intention of releasing his grip. With one hand, he continued to control the intricate mechanism, locking the mechanical arms around the Fourth Princess’s throat. With the other, he reached out into the air, a cold glint flashing from his black robe as a bizarrely shaped, intricately patterned profound iron handcuff was flung towards her. With a soft *clink*, the icy metal cuff landed on the stone floor before Qing Muxue. It was dark and black all over, its surface etched with dense spirit-locking runes, exuding an eerie aura of restraint, far beyond ordinary military shackles. "Put it on yourself," the old Taoist's voice was cold and sharp, laced with an unyielding threat. "Behave, and I'll spare her life." Qing Muxue lowered her gaze to the strange metal cuff on the ground, her brow furrowed, her aura tensed to the extreme. She had fought on battlefields for half her life, her spirit unyielding. She had always fought, never surrendered, preferring death to the humiliation of capture. The unyielding loyalty ingrained in her bones instinctively resisted such a humiliating coercion. Her fingertips clenched, her heart filled with reluctance, unwilling to yield even an inch. But in the next moment, the scene before her froze all her struggles. The old Taoist urged his spiritual power further, the force of the mechanism suddenly increasing severalfold. The mechanical arms gripping the Fourth Princess’s throat tightened abruptly! The cold, hard metal locked onto her throat, instantly cutting off most of her breath. The agonizing pain of suffocation swept through her entire body, turning her already pale cheeks instantly flushed. Her breathing became ragged and difficult, her chest heaving violently. The pain of near-suffocation caused her body to convulse uncontrollably. Her tear-filled eyes were completely veiled by a mist of impending death. Despair and agony threatened to consume her entirely. "Stop... I'll put it on," Qing Muxue's heart tightened, all her pride and unwillingness crushed by helplessness. She couldn't afford to gamble, nor dare to. She absolutely could not stand by and watch the innocent Fourth Princess die tragically before her eyes. She bent down and picked up the cold, heavy profound iron cuff from the ground. The metallic chill shot straight to her heart through her fingertips, humiliation and bitterness churning within her. She raised her hand, intending to fasten the cuff in front of her, to preserve the last shred of her dignity. "Wait!" the old Taoist's voice suddenly boomed, sharp and domineering, filled with absolute control. "Hands behind your back, and lock them tight!" The harsh command left no room for negotiation, completely crushing her last vestige of dignity. The Fourth Princess, still kneeling and being choked, her remaining clarity fixed on the scene before her, her eyes instantly filled with surging tears. She shook her head desperately, her hair flying wildly, tear tracks streaking her face. Her clear eyes were filled with extreme anxiety and a plea to stop. That tearful, trembling gaze was incredibly clear, as if she was pouring all her will into a silent scream: Don't worry about me, don't surrender, run quickly! Don't fall into a trap and become a prisoner for my sake! She would rather suffocate and die, her soul scattered, than see her only savior shackled and manipulated, ending up in the same miserable state as herself, at the mercy of others. Soft, broken whimpers and groans continuously escaped her throat, each one a helpless plea and torment. But Qing Muxue, seeing her near-death struggles and unbearable pain, had no room for retreat in her heart. She knew the old Taoist's nature was cruel and malicious, and he would keep his word. If she hesitated even slightly, the force on the Fourth Princess’s throat would instantly tighten, and she would die in an instant. Torn and helpless, Qing Muxue slowly lowered her arms, silently brought her hands behind her back, wrists together, palms pressed, and willingly offered them into the cold embrace of the handcuff. *Click—snap!* The crisp, cold sound of the lock echoed through the silent chamber. The rune-etched cuff instantly clamped shut, tightly encircling her wrists with no room to spare. The metal lock automatically engaged, sealing shut, unmoving and unbreakable. The sharp force of restraint instantly locked down all movement in her arms. The Zhennan General, who had swept across battlefields and been invincible, had finally, for the sake of protecting loyal bloodlines and innocent lives, put on a humiliating shackle with her own hands. Seeing Qing Muxue locked behind her back, completely disarmed, the old Taoist’s eyes flashed with the sinister smile of a complete victory. He finally suppressed the killing intent in his eyes. With a subtle movement of his finger, he slightly eased the force of the mechanism gripping the Fourth Princess’s throat, momentarily alleviating the girl’s near-suffocating pain. However, he did not release it entirely. The mechanical arms still loosely encircled her neck, firmly holding the Fourth Princess’s life as a bargaining chip, keeping both their lives in his palm and eliminating any possibility of a variable. Confirming that Qing Muxue was completely bound and had no remaining power to resist, the old Taoist did not dare to delay. He strode forward, closing in on her. A cold glint flashed from his sleeve again, and another profound iron shackle of the same design, cold and heavy, covered in restraint runes, fell into his palm. It was identical to the cuff on Qing Muxue’s wrist, both being sinister instruments specifically designed to trap martial artists and seal their movements. He stared down at the tall, yet now restrained, Qing Muxue. With swift and domineering movements, he bent down, reached out, and without any preamble, clamped onto her slender ankles, forcibly securing her feet together. *Click!* Another sharp, cold sound of locking echoed. The ankle shackles instantly clamped shut, fitting snugly against her skin, unmoving. Before Qing Muxue could even struggle, a thick profound iron chain sprang out from the inside of the shackles, extending straight up along her leg, precisely connecting and locking onto the clasp of the handcuffs on her wrists. The shackles on her hands and feet were firmly linked by the iron chain, their length fixed and impossible to loosen. Her hands and legs were forcibly pulled together and restrained. Her limbs were tightly bound by the chain, her posture instantly and forcefully contorted. Her originally upright stance could no longer be maintained. The chain tightened, forcefully pulling her limbs inward. Qing Muxue’s entire body was stretched taut and sore. She could only be forced to bend her waist and knees, her body contorted and curled up helplessly, twisted into a knot. Her center of gravity collapsed completely, and she slumped heavily onto the cold stone floor. She had spent half her life on the battlefield, her posture as upright as a pine, her spirit unyielding. She had never shown any sign of humble cowering. Now, bound by a set of linked shackles, her hands and feet restrained, her body twisted, she had completely lost the ability to stand, move, or exert force. The tension in her muscles and the humiliation in her heart churned within her, yet she could not resist in the slightest. Confirming that the linked shackles were securely fastened and Qing Muxue had been reduced to a trapped beast with no hope of turning the tables, the old Taoist, who had been tense for a long time, finally breathed a sigh of relief. His tense shoulders slowly relaxed, his rapid, disordered breathing gradually calmed down. The cold sweat on his forehead had not yet dried, revealing his disheveled state after the recent struggle and his current sinister triumph in controlling the situation. He no longer paid attention to the curled-up, restrained Qing Muxue, who could not move. He immediately turned and quickly walked towards the Fourth Princess, who was still kneeling, her arms flailing uselessly. The knee joint mechanism, which had been loosened and dislocated by the bamboo stick strike, was the only flaw at the moment, and the damage to his prized creation that he cared about the most. On the dragon pearl atop each coiled dragon pillar, and along the ridge of their spines, were bound and restrained women generals, their figures sharp and heroic. They were densely packed, arrayed on both sides of the grand hall, forming the most bizarre display within this supreme chamber. These were all female generals who had fought for years in the Southern Chu army, loyal individuals who had defended the four corners and bled on the battlefield. Now, they were all reduced to living prisoners on the dragon pillars, at the mercy of their captors. Their attire was a stark, extreme contrast, half preserved and half ruined. The upper bodies were clad in either magnificent general's armor, exquisitely patterned and edged with gold, their armor gleaming and intact, still exuding authority, or in neat, luxurious official uniforms and brocade military attire, retaining the last vestiges of their dignity as military leaders. However, their lower bodies were completely stripped of battle skirts and armor, leaving only various colored stockings to adorn their legs, each pair unique and never repeated: the solemn, matte pure black stockings, the translucent, skin-revealing fishnets, the clean, slender white thigh-highs, and the intricately patterned, elegant jacquard pantyhose. These dazzling stockings clung to their long legs, meant to be an elegant embellishment, but now served only to accentuate their humiliating confinement. They were not bound by ordinary ropes, but by cold, gleaming, eerie golden cords. The cords were slender yet incredibly strong, locked into shape and unmoving. The golden ropes crisscrossed and wound around them in layers, like a dense spiderweb, encasing their entire bodies from neck, shoulders, and abdomen, to limbs, ankles, and fingertips, with no blind spots. Every inch of their flesh was firmly locked down, leaving no room for struggle. Their arms were held and fixed by the golden ropes in a variety of stiff poses, regulated and bizarre, without any discernible pattern: some had their hands forced into a clasped fist position against their chests, their muscles taut and unable to relax; some hugged their chests tightly, their bodies rigid with unyielding defiance; some had their arms bound behind their backs, their shoulder blades pulled taut and aching; and even more had their arms hoisted high above their heads, stretched straight upwards, their entire bodies pulled taut in mid-air, their shoulders and wrists bearing immense pressure, blood circulation impeded, suffering the full extent of their restraint. Their leg positions were even more varied and utterly humiliating, entirely deliberately arranged into bizarre poses: some had their legs held straight and together, tightly wrapped and locked into shape by the golden ropes; some had their legs forced apart and bent, their bodies twisted and stiff; some were fixed in a kneeling, head-bowed posture of utter subservience, their backs bent, their dignity shattered; and several had one leg raised high, bent and suspended, precisely bound and fixed by the golden ropes, their postures unnaturally flexible, like gymnasts frozen in mid-competition, their beautiful forms hiding endless physical torment. Every general's eyes were filled with extreme pain, their brows furrowed, their eyes reddened. Their bodies trembled and spasmed slightly within the suffocating embrace of the golden ropes, their skin marked with deep red indentations from the cords, and their bodies covered in a fine sheen of cold sweat from their struggles. The eerie secret-art golden ropes not only restrained their bodies but also continuously invaded their minds, forcing them to remain conscious and endure every inch of torment, with no escape from the pain, no possibility of struggle. Everyone's face was pale, their eyes filled with misery, yet they had not even a sliver of room to shift and alleviate their suffering. What pierced Qing Muxue's heart the most was that, as she was led forward by palace maids, her eyes swept across the pained, gaunt faces, and her heart suddenly constricted, a surge of agony overwhelming her. These generals, imprisoned on the dragon pillars and subjected to such humiliation and torment, were, for the most part, her trusted friends from the battlefield, comrades with whom she had shared life and death. They had once donned armor together, defended the borders, and fought enemies in bloody battles. They had guarded the mountains and rivers, protected the common people, and were the most trusted comrades, the closest allies on the battlefield. These loyal companions, who had once ridden side-by-side, invincible, were now reduced to prisoners within the imperial palace, locked onto the hall's dragon pillars by eerie golden ropes, silently enduring a dual purgatory of body and soul. Familiar gaunt faces everywhere, former close friends imprisoned all around. The extremely luxurious, grand, and solemn Nine Heavens Hall had finally completely torn away its facade of a prosperous age, revealing the bloody, utterly brutal human hell beneath. As her gaze swept over the suffering generals, two incredibly familiar figures suddenly pierced Qing Muxue's vision, causing her already agonizing heart to constrict violently, her blood almost instantly freezing. These were her two personal beautiful deputy officers who had followed her for years, guarding the southern frontier, fighting in all directions, and sharing life and death with her. They were her most trusted and capable left and right hands. In the past, they had both worn silver armor, sharp and imposing, wielding sharp blades, guarding the southern border passes, their figures tall and strong, full of spirit. On the battlefield, they were fearless and invincible, iron-willed female officers respected by everyone in the army. But now, they had both been reduced to the most tragic ornaments on the dragon pillars, their bodies wantonly manipulated by the secret-art golden ropes, subjected to extreme humiliation. One of them was forcibly folded and restrained by golden cords, her body twisted and bent, her waist forced into a compressed curl, her legs violently pulled apart to a wide stance, bound and pressed against the dragon pillar's patterns in an extremely contorted posture that defied the body's bones and muscles. The golden ropes around her body dug deeply into her flesh, fixing her twisted form, her bones dislocated, her muscles taut, every inch of her skin enduring extreme stretching and soreness, her posture bizarre and pathetic, devoid of any of her former battlefield heroism. The other's fate was even more tragic. She was systematically and cruelly fixed in a spread-eagle position, her limbs fully extended and straightened, her arms spread flat to the sides, her legs spread straight apart, her torso stretched taut, anchored to the pillar by countless fine golden ropes. Her limbs bore the strain, her entire body taut, her whole being exposed and unrestrained, every movement locked down, completely reduced to a living ornament for all to behold. Not only were their bodies subjected to extreme restraint, but their mouths were also sealed with the utmost rigor. Their mouths were stuffed with thick sound-dampening cotton, completely blocking the passage of their throats, and then covered with specially made matte gold tape. From the corners of their lips to their entire jawlines, the tape was layered tightly, completely sealing the entire mouth area. The gold tape adhered to their skin, obscuring their contours. The smooth, fine surface perfectly concealed all traces of their lips and teeth, making it impossible to discern the location of their mouths from the outside, completely erasing their last vestiges of voice and the possibility of protest. Even though their hearts churned with overwhelming grief and endless suffering, even though their eyes were filled with despair and their bones ached intensely, they could not utter a single sound. Not a whimper, not a word of accusation, nothing. They could only be eternally confined in silent torment. Across the several dozen feet separating them, the three, once comrades-in-arms who fought side-by-side and spent their days together, now looked at each other from a distance, separated by an insurmountable gulf. Their eyes were filled with surging sorrow and urgency, desperately wanting to speak, to recognize each other, to comfort one another, to inquire about each other's experiences and suffering. But the layers of restraint had locked their bodies, sealed their mouths, and severed all communication.