He took a step forward, the smell of blood hitting him in the face.
"What if we just use it all at once now? It would save trouble later."
Seraphina Caldwell jerked her head up, meeting his eyes directly.
"Wyatt Yardley, go and find Isaac Vaughn."
Wyatt Yardley chuckled softly, as if he had heard a joke.
"Seraphina, what trick are you trying to pull again?"
Seraphina gently placed the Blood Stopping Grass back into the bamboo basket.
"I'm giving you all a chance."
She lowered her eyes, her fingers lightly brushing over the leaves.
"If you promise me one thing, I'll break the contract with you all."
As her words fell, the stone house became so quiet that even breathing could be heard.
Everyone's gaze simultaneously fell on her.
Evan Orwell's eyelashes quivered slightly, his fingers quietly curling up, while the smile on Kaelan Hawthorne's face froze, a half arc still hanging at the corner of his mouth, but the laughter in his eyes had long since faded, replaced only by wariness.
Gideon Larkin's fists clenched so tightly that they made a cracking sound, his knuckles turning white, veins bulging, even Wyatt Yardley stopped smiling, staring at her intently.
He was waiting for her to slip up, waiting for her to show her hypocritical face like before.
But this time, she only looked back at him calmly.
Wyatt Yardley and Gideon Larkin went out to find Isaac Vaughn, leaving only Kaelan Hawthorne and Evan Orwell in the cave to wait for news.
The only sound in the cave was the occasional crackling of firewood in the fire.
Seraphina felt the atmosphere was a bit tense, so she turned around to avoid looking at them, casually examining the cave.
This place was like a primitive dwelling, not very comfortable, but not too bad either.
The walls were mottled, the ceiling uneven, and occasionally water droplets would drip from the crevices.
But this was already a rare refuge in the forest, at least capable of blocking the wind and snow, keeping the beasts at bay.
The entrance was reinforced with sturdy logs and vines, blocking much of the cold wind, the ground was covered with a thick layer of dry grass, topped with seven or eight layers of Beast Skin, each a different color and pattern.
These were probably gathered by Father; although he wandered alone outside for years, he had been silently collecting these things for his only daughter.
He hunted fierce beasts in the wind and snow, crossed poisonous mists, all to bring back complete pelts.
And now, the cave was still here, the fire still burning, but that person would never return.
A pile of more than twenty cleaned beast skins was neatly stacked against the wall.
On a stone shelf on the other side, food was piled up, with fresh wild fruits in a bamboo basket.
Seraphina walked over to a clay pot, gently lifted the lid, and found it full of clear water.
She squatted down, looking at the reflection of her face in the water, her brow furrowed, momentarily stunned.
The reflection was that of a purple-haired girl, her hair slightly curled, her features exquisitely beautiful, her nose high and straight, her lips soft and moisturized.
Especially those bright black eyes, deep yet brilliant, reflecting the firelight and giving off tiny sparks.
Was this form really so beautiful?
More perplexingly, her appearance didn't match at all with the character she heard about, who loved bullying people.
The original owner was not kind, she relied on her noble Purple Rank female bloodline, humiliating these Beast Husbands every few days, treating them like slaves.
These so-called "Beast Husbands" were all formidable characters in the original story, once rampaging at the frontier, killing without blinking an eye, daring to kill even the Clan Leader to sacrifice a flag.
Yet now they were willingly trapped in this cold cave, preparing game and guarding food for a female they hated.
She needed to quickly find Father, as only he truly cared for her, asking nothing in return.
Moreover, Father was a Purple Rank Strong Person, standing at the peak of this world, commanding Thunder Power, able to cleave a cliff with one strike.
As long as she found him before trouble started and those inexplicable contracts bound to her fingers were broken, her life would be safe.
But here came the problem: this was a world rampant with beasts and hostile weather.
On the wasteland, ferocious beasts roared, the sky remained ominously overcast, torrential rain could pour down at any moment, and toxic fog pervaded Northvale.
Ordinary people had to travel in groups, and even more so for a female without combat power.
Going alone equalled courting death; without the protection of Beast Power, she couldn't survive in the wild for more than three days.
Wild wolves would smell her scent, giant lizards would ambush from below.
This world had many males but few females, with a ratio of about 1 to 100.
One hundred males for every female, thus each female was considered a rare treasure.
Almost every female would bind several Beast Husbands to protect herself.
Combat, hunting, keeping warm, vigilance—all these were tasks for the Beast Husbands.
After all, the weak females were too prone to accidents, even a fall or a fever could claim their lives.
"Thinking up new tricks to torment us again?"
A low voice suddenly came from behind, the tail dragging out long.
Seraphina turned back, seeing Kaelan Hawthorne standing by the fire pit, the flames dancing behind him.
He wore tattered leather armor, fingers lightly tracing the scar on his face.
The old wound that slashed from his left forehead to right cheek glistened a dark red in the firelight.
On the other side, Evan Orwell still hung his head, his long silver-white hair covering his entire face, leaving only a small bit of his chin visible.
It was clear they both thought she was plotting how to torment them again.
After all, over the past month, she had sent them to cliffs to gather herbs, summoned them to kneel at midnight with bells…
Seraphina sighed, her tone a bit helpless.
"You'll understand soon enough."
As soon as she finished speaking, a dull sound of footsteps came from the cave entrance.
The wind outside suddenly stopped, the shadows of the fire flickered dramatically, casting grotesque silhouettes on the rocky walls.
Wyatt Yardley and Gideon Larkin had returned.
Together, they carried a half-human tall wooden barrel, filled with crystal-clear stream water, with Isaac Vaughn soaking inside.
Seraphina froze, her pupils suddenly contracting.
Isaac Vaughn in the barrel had light blue curly hair, wet and sticking to his face and neck, strands clumping together.
His purple eyes were half-open, eyelids slightly trembling.
Yet his gaze was terrifyingly hollow, staring upwards unblinkingly.
But the most shocking was his fishtail.
Originally supposed to be covered in scales, now it was all bloody, flesh torn, blood continuously seeping out, slowly spreading in the clear water like a torn painting.
Even hurt like this, his appearance was still breathtaking to the point of suffocation, with high-defined cheekbones, perfectly shaped lips, a smooth jawline, even more striking than many females.
But such beauty was now overshadowed by endless pain and deep numbness.
Seraphina finally understood.
Why they would rather risk contract backlash and face instant death than bear those partner marks anymore.
It wasn't that they were heartless, but despair had penetrated their bones.
They would rather their souls scatter than endure that kind of torment again.
Because the original owner's abuse not only hurt their bodies and minds, but also trampled their dignity into the ground bit by bit.
Wyatt Yardley set down the barrel roughly, causing water to splash, pooling into a small puddle of bloody water on the ground.
He stood there, exuding an intense chill.