I Am Loaded with Passive Skills

"Speaking of which, once someone has tasted the marrow and savored the flavor... after stealing a bite of the Forbidden Fruit, how can you be certain they won't do it again?"

He leaned down, his amusement barely concealed, and said: "Yue Gongnu, what do you think of what little sister Dai'er has said?"

Yue Gongnu could only see the fullness of his chest, and she didn't want to lift her head to look at that nauseating face.

It was utterly unbearable to look at!

But when she closed her eyes, she nearly gasped in shock...

Suppressing the urge to breathe deeply only made her feel even worse...

"Stop holding it back, your face is turning purple already. Without spiritual source, what's the point in fussing over this? Such pointless stubbornness!" Dao Dai'er chuckled, covering her mouth.

"Hah..."

Yue Gongnu could no longer endure the overwhelming stench wafting toward her.

After so many years apart, the oppressive aura of Dao Qiongcang had not diminished; if anything, it had morphed into something even more disturbing!

"What do you plan to do with Yuegong Hui?" She could only divert the topic, though her gaze remained fixed, immovable.

The situation around Yuegong Hui was even filthier; Yue Gongnu didn't need to look—she didn't even want to imagine the scene!

"Yuegong Hui?"

Dao Dai'er let out a cold laugh. "At this point, you're still calling him 'Hui Lao?' Is it that your dear little sister Dai'er hasn't suffered enough?"

"Then Yuegong Hui?" Yue Gongnu didn't dwell on the matter of forms of address. "How do you intend to handle him?"

"That depends on you."

"My suggestion is..."

"You don't need to offer me advice. You're just a powerless sinner—take care of yourself, big sister Yue Gongnu~"

Yue Gongnu let out a gentle sigh, her ten fingers tightly clutching, crumpling the hem of her gown, but ultimately she was forced to loosen her grip, helplessly. "...If you kill him, you won't escape the Cold Palace Emperor Realm!"

Dao Dai'er didn't respond this time.

One leg crossed elegantly over the other, and after tracing a graceful arc mid-air, he rose and approached Yue Gongnu's side, moving behind the icy table.

Yue Gongnu frowned, twisting her upper body to keep a safe distance.

But Dao Dai'er abruptly brushed his taut, rounded hips against hers. Fortunately, Yue Gongnu had been wary and stood up to evade in advance—she didn't give him the chance.

"Why didn't you move away earlier? Honestly..."

Grumbling, Dao Dai'er occupied the sole chair in the cell—a wooden one, not an icy chair.

After sitting, he finally understood why Yue Gongnu always tilted her face stubbornly when talking to him.

It wasn't because her side profile was more appealing.

Nor because her time in the cold prison had made her more proud in temperament.

A quick glance towards the fecal-colored stain in the corner made Dao Dai'er jerk his neck back, dry-heave, and shudder involuntarily. He didn't comment further on the state of things.

His foot rested on the soft goose-down mat under the table, while his buttocks occupied the wooden chair. Dao Dai'er's slender fingers were now placed directly on the ancient zither.

The strings trembled faintly, as if resisting—he shot them a glare, and they instantly fell silent.

"Luan Xue, tsk!"

"The zither is good, but, like you, it's utterly spineless—far too easy to bully... Even my little sister could ride it like a horse."

Yue Gongnu could only pretend she hadn't heard anything.

She was forced against one side of the icy table, visibly ill at ease.

Cast into the cold prison after committing a crime, Yue Gongnu, despite her brother Yue Gongli's efforts to provide care, found certain rules unbreakable.

She had only a few spare garments to change into, and her feet lacked adequate footwear to keep out the chill.

The icy table was her sole source of confidence for engaging in any semblance of equal dialogue with Dao Qiongcang.

Now, with the sole chair and the small warm mat on the ground—her last semblance of comfort—claimed by this man, even that slight sense of security was stripped away.

Yue Gongnu could only grit her teeth in silent fury, curling her toes and barely grounding herself on the icy floor beneath, her posture stiff and ill at ease.

The cold prison's Yin energy did not care who the prisoners were before; it punished all who entered equally.

As the bitter chill seeped through her soles, past her calves, and invaded her organs, Yue Gongnu's body felt as though needles were coursing through it, causing immense pain.

Her lips were already turning blue, and her teeth clattered uncontrollably.

She could barely maintain her balance, but she refused to show weakness before Dao Qiongcang, knowing it would embolden him.

Yue Gongnu could only maintain the cruel facade, standing on tiptoe with one foot while alternating its position secretly when it bore too much weight.

This method was futile, but at least it offered her some psychological comfort.

The shivering of her body provided slight warmth amidst the freezing conditions, barely staving off the cold.

"Zheng——"

Dao Dai'er showed no intention of extending mercy by returning her seat or the mat. With closed eyes, he began to play the zither.

The sound was eerie and piercing, as cold as the air itself.

He played "Injury Nan Ting," a piece Yue Gongnu had performed before—a melody that shifted from tranquil flowing streams to fierce battlegrounds, fluctuating with sharp, rhythmic contrasts.

Yue Gongnu grit her teeth and endured, listening with cold fury as she stood by the icy table, afraid to touch it knowing its frost would sting.

Yuegong Hui, slumped lifeless in the corner, listened feebly, unable to utter a sound beyond weak groans, overwhelmed by his plight.

A harmony of refinement and wretchedness.

If one were to ignore the aggressively inappropriate behavior Dao Qiongcang intentionally exuded, his skill with the zither alone...

...it was undeniably on par with Yue Gongnu's own mastery.

Dao Dai'er's earlier words to Yuegong Hui about "not daring to offer critique" were evidently a modest understatement. He was, in actuality, proficient in all manner of refined arts and was a genuine scholar and artist.

But now, the actions of "Dao Dai'er," and even the contradictory nature of his/her existence, bore no resemblance to the term "refinement."

As the melody played on and approached its midpoint...

The song was overly lengthy.

Dao Dai'er remained deeply engrossed, eyes still shut.

Yue Gongnu began to falter under the relentless cold, her trembling body nearing its breaking point.

She could only choose to interrupt the performance like an unsophisticated, tone-deaf intruder, lacing her voice with faint mockery as she attempted to cut through the oppressive music: