In a daze, Seraphina Caldwell heard the sound of a whip, slowly awakening.
The first thing that came into view was a head of silver-gray short hair hanging to the shoulders.
The person’s back was facing her, skin a healthy wheat color, the muscles tense like a bow drawn to the limit, but covered in dense whip marks, making one’s heart tighten.
A wound ceaselessly seeped blood drops, which followed the lines of muscle downward, eventually pooling into a small puddle of blood at the waist.
When the person raised his eyes for an instant, Seraphina’s heart abruptly shrank, as if something cold had gripped it ruthlessly.
Even more terrifying was the undisguised hatred within them.
He slightly tilted his head, his gaze chillingly sweeping over the whip in her hand, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
His voice was deep, each word seemed to be laced with thorns.
"Are you tired? Not planning to continue beating today?"
Seraphina’s head buzzed.
Intense pain exploded from her temples, unfamiliar memories flooding her mind.
She was just an ordinary worker, who, after dying suddenly from overtime, transmigrated into a novel she had finished reading. Even crazier, she became a female supporting character with the same name.
The original father was a wandering beast, extremely doting on his only daughter, forcefully capturing five powerful males to bond with his daughter as soon as she came of age.
But the original didn’t care for these males, instead, she’d concoct ways to bully them.
The male before her, a white snake in his true form, cold and ruthless, will one day break her fingers personally.
Seraphina stiffened, suddenly letting go, the whip hitting the floor with a slap, the splattered blood at the tip landing on her foot.
The sensation made her shiver all over.
Wyatt Yardley frowned slightly.
In the past, at moments like this, the Female Master would only beat him harder, or command others to bring a burning stick, directly scorch his skin.
But she threw the whip now?
"Planning some new trick to torment me?"
"Shut up."
Seraphina interrupted him, needing time to clarify this absurd and ridiculous situation.
In this world, male strength is clearly divided into seven ranks, represented by seven colors, and the original father is at the pyramid’s peak as a Violet-Tier Scorpion Beast.
This is also the reason he can openly capture five males from afar.
But according to the plot, her father won’t return after going out to catch a new Beast Husband.
After his death, these long-abused males will join forces to counterattack.
They will risk their lives, carving out the partner seal from their bodies.
According to logic, all five should have died on the spot, but they survived on a vengeful obsession.
Eventually, they would slowly torture her in ways a hundred times more cruel than she inflicted upon them.
Every detail described in the book was spine-chilling.
Just recalling those words that depicted the horrors made Seraphina’s fingers twitch involuntarily.
She cannot die!
She cannot die like that!
She forced herself to look up, directly into those cold dark-red eyes, trying to keep her voice steady: "Get up."
Wyatt did not move at all, only raising a brow slightly.
"What? Planning a new trick for fun?"
He slightly tilted his chin up, exposing the scorpion-shaped mark on his chest.
It’s the mark left by the contract, the shackle locking their freedom.
"Want to try sprinkling some salt on my barely scabbed wounds again?"
Seraphina’s breath stilled, the original really had done such a thing.
She took a deep breath, then turned to walk towards the corner basket.
The basket was piled with withered plants, herbs exchanged by her father from other tribes. The original never used them for healing, preferring to treat poison vines as medicine, watching them writhe in pain.
She crouched, fingers carefully searching through the messy tangle of herbs.
Finally, she picked out a few plants with serrated edges.
They were blood-stopping vines, known for their strong clotting effects.
She held those leaves tightly, lowering her head.
"Your injury... needs treatment. I won’t..."
"Enough."
Wyatt cut her off coldly.
"Stop pretending. You’re not fit to say such words."
He was a head taller than Seraphina, his shadow imposing heavily.
"Will you brand me again with a burning stick? Or have you thought of another way to torment me?"
Seraphina’s hand holding the medicine paused in mid-air.
The original’s brutality was deeply rooted in these men’s hearts.
Even now, offering a simple herb would be perceived as the prelude to a new round of torture.
Footsteps sounded at the cave entrance.
Then, three figures gradually appeared at the door.
They stared at her, eyes devoid of warmth and full of repressed resentment.
Leading them was Evan Orwell.
Once a Yellow Rank Priest with an ethereal demeanor, his long silver-white hair draped over the shoulders.
But now, he looked ashen like death, lips pale, cold sweat beading at his brow.
His arms were covered in black scorch marks, his back layered with burn scars.
Following him was the red-haired fox, Kaelan Hawthorne.
His fiery hair had once been flamboyant, complementing his handsome features, drawing eyes everywhere.
But now, a jagged scar slashed across his face.
From the right eye down to the chin.
Seeing Seraphina, he smirked.
"Yo, not ’tenderizing’ Wyatt anymore?"
The last male entered, bare-chested, covered in crisscrossing whip marks, fresh wounds layered over old scars, the blood scabbed and mottled.
He was Gideon Larkin the lion Beastfolk, once the most loyal and silent of the five husbands.
But now, his eyes locked onto Seraphina, devoid of any familiar warmth.
Seraphina scanned them, coldness shooting up her spine from her feet.
A total of five Beast Husbands, four here now.
"Where’s Isaac Vaughn?"
The crackling firewood sparked loudly.
The embers flew, but no one cared.
Silence enveloped the surroundings, even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Kaelan’s grin widened abruptly, the corners of his mouth almost reaching his ears.
"You forgot?"
"Yesterday, you said you wanted to see what happens when a merfolk loses its scales... asked us to bury him alive."
Seraphina’s fingertips suddenly cooled.
Isaac Vaughn was the only Oceanic Tribe among the five husbands.
If she really dared to carve out his Beast Seal, tear off his scales, he’d awaken his bloodline power through extreme pain.
And then, he’d peel her skin piece by piece, returning the torture a hundredfold with primitive intensity.
Because... she was the one who first subjected the merfolk to scale stripping torture.
Looking at the three scarred Beast Husbands, thinking of Isaac being skinned and buried, her entire body shuddered violently.
Wyatt noticed her distraction, his dark-red eyes mocking.
"Planning another new trick?"