MTLNOVEL Chapter 171: Not Broken Yet
I woke to cold stone and the taste of iron.
My mouth was dry. Not from thirst—though I would kill for a glass of water—but from the gag tied too tight behind my teeth. Cloth. Rough. Blood had soaked through the corner of it and dried against my chin. I couldn't tell if it was mine, and that was the thing that was bothering me the most.
I didn't try to move right away. The chains on my wrists would clatter if I did, and I wasn't ready to give them the satisfaction. So I kept my head down and let my eyes adjust to the dim light.
A cavern.
Rough-hewn walls, low ceiling, torchlight flickering against rock damp with moss and rot. The air was thick. Still. The kind of quiet that only existed deep underground—where no one could hear you scream, no matter how loud you got.
And he was there.
Zhu Lianhua.
The Third Prince lounged in a carved wooden chair across from me, one leg crossed lazily over the other, silk robes untouched by dust or blood. A cup of wine in his hand, swirling lazily between two fingers.
He watched me like a painter admiring his unfinished work.
"Finally," he said, voice low and pleasant. "I was beginning to think the blow to your head was too much."
I didn't respond.
He smiled. "No clever remarks? No venom? I was told you always have something to say."
The guards flanking me—three of them now—stood ready, weapons sheathed but close. One had a hammer. The other two held leather straps and iron tongs. There was a table against the wall, laid out with neat little rows of pain.
I lifted my head and met his eyes.
There it was again—that soft smugness, like he was performing for an invisible audience. Like he thought this meant something.
"I have a theory," he said, rising from his chair. "I think your reputation is inflated. I think you've used your beauty and your tongue to keep people afraid of you." He leaned in, brushing my hair back from my face. "But what happens when the beauty fades, hmm?"
He turned to the table.
"I had this made for you," he said, holding up a small hooked blade. It glinted, even in the dim light. "It's delicate. Like you were supposed to be. But we both know better, don't we?"
I stayed still as he approached, crouching beside me.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to ask you to betray Mingyu, I won't even ask you a single question. I don't want your secrets yet," he whispered. "I don't want your screams. I just want to see what you are when you stop being beautiful."
The blade slid beneath the nail of my smallest finger. Slowly.
The pain was immediate. Sharp. White-hot.
I didn't move. Didn't cry out.
He lifted the nail up, not fast—no, he took his time. The sound it made was worse than the pain. A soft, wet tearing sound, like skin being peeled from fruit. My breath caught in my throat. My spine stiffened.
I didn't look away.
He dropped the nail on the floor with a quiet little clink and smiled like a child showing off a trick.
"That's one," he said softly. "Let's see how many we can do before you faint."
The second nail came out faster.
By the third, blood ran freely down my fingertips, pooling in my palm.
By the fourth, the guards had to brace my shoulders.
But still, I refused to scream. I might have tasted blood, but I didn't scream.
When he finished with my left hand, he stood and studied me.
"You're tougher than you look, I'll give you that," he admitted, wiping the blade on a silk handkerchief like this was nothing more than a spill of wine at a banquet.
"Break her fingers," he said to one of the guards without even glancing back.
I knew what was coming, but my body still jolted when the guard gripped my wrist and slammed the handle of the hammer down on each knuckle in turn. A sickening crunch. Once. Twice. Three times.
I didn't pass out.
I almost wanted to tell him that Dimitri had hurt me worse when we were trying to figure out what my limits were, but I kept my mouth shut. What he was doing now was nothing more than child's play.
Lianhua crouched beside me again and took my chin in his hand, tilting my face toward his.
"Still so calm," he murmured, moving my face from side to side. "Still looking at me like you know something I don't. That must be exhausting."
He took the blade again. This time, he pressed it to my cheek.
"You know what I hate?" he asked. "The way people look at you. Like you're something sacred. Like your face is some kind of blessing."
The tip of the blade traced a line across my cheekbone, just beneath the eye.
"You've worn that face like armor," he said. "Let's see how you fight without it."
He sliced.
It wasn't deep. But it was deliberate. A single clean line down my right cheek, burning as it opened.
The blood came fast, warm, thick. It tickled as it slid toward my jaw.
He leaned back and examined his work.
"There," he said, satisfied. "Still not screaming. But you're starting to look a little more human. I wonder if my brother will still want you with your face scarred like that."
I stared at him, breathing through my nose, the gag still tight in my mouth.
I didn't hate the pain.
What I hated was the way he talked. At least when I tortured people, I got to the point. Him going on and on was a whole new type of torture on top of the physical pain, and I didn't know how much longer I could hold out for before I demanded he shut up.
He stood again and rolled his shoulders, gesturing lazily toward the table. "Let's try something new."
With a flick of his fingers, the guards brought out the basin.
I recognized it immediately.
The ropes were untied, but only so they could reposition me—shackled again, this time with my back arched over a stone bench beside the shallow water basin. They wrapped cloth around my face, soaked it, and held it ready.
Zhu Lianhua stood over me, arms folded. "I don't care what you're hiding," he said. "Not today. That'll come later. We have all the time in the world to spend together."
He crouched beside me again and lowered his voice.
"Today isn't about questions. It's about breaking the myth."
The cloth came down over my face.
I felt the first splash before I heard it. Water poured, soaking the cloth, filling my mouth and nose. My body fought to breathe. My mind knew it couldn't.
I thrashed once, twice, before I forced myself still again. It was impossible for me to die, and not just because I had an inflated ego. The poor Third Prince didn't even know that while he was making me bleed, I was just playing with him.