Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem-Chapter 833: No More Playing House [Bonus]

"It’s time we stopped playing house, Feng."

She blinked, then slowly stood, excitement creeping up her spine.

"Are you saying...?"

He turned to her fully with a big smirk.

"It’s time we leave."

...

The golden light of the evening sun filtered through the sealed window, casting long shadows across the finely furnished prison suite. Two maids sat anxiously by the bedside, where Feng Jiai lay curled up beneath thick blankets, coughing violently into her sleeve.

Each convulsion seemed to wrack her entire frame, and the maids exchanged worried glances.

"Her fever’s getting worse..." whispered the older of the two, placing a damp cloth gently on Feng’s forehead. "She was fine yesterday! What in heaven’s name could’ve happened overnight?"

"I-I... c-can’t..." Feng gasped, her voice weak and hoarse. "I can’t breathe..."

The younger maid jumped up immediately. "I’ll get the captain! The room’s too stuffy, she’ll suffocate like this!"

She rushed out in a panic, leaving the elder one behind to clutch Feng’s hand. "Hold on, my lady. Just a little longer..."

Quinlan stood nearby, arms crossed, a worried furrow on his brow. "This happened so suddenly..." he murmured, tone laced with concern, playing his role as the doting father to perfection. "She was laughing just this morning..."

He moved to kneel beside the bed, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Feng’s sweaty face. "You’re okay. Breathe. Slowly. That’s it..."

Moments later, the door opened with a clank, and the younger maid returned with a tall, broad-shouldered man in polished half-armor. His face was weathered, his eyes cold.

The guard captain.

Without a word, he stomped toward the window and inserted a thick iron key into the barred lock. A heavy click followed. He grunted and yanked the reinforced window open, allowing a rush of fresh air to pour into the room.

Quinlan rose to his feet, subtly shifting his stance to observe every movement: how the key turned, which hinges bore weight, how the metal met stone. His eyes briefly glinted with understanding.

"Step aside," the captain muttered to Quinlan, wanting to see what the drama was about.

But just as he arrived, Feng suddenly screamed.

"AaaAAAH! I’m dying! My lungs! They’re drowning in flame!!! HELP!"

The maids startled, jumping to their feet. Even Quinlan raised his brows at her impressive performance.

Then... Feng lunged.

She threw herself at the guard captain, grabbing his arm with a feverish grip. "Please! I don’t want to die! Please! Do you have any pills? A healing elixir? An emergency talisman?!"

The captain reeled back, flinching. "Gah! Stop coughing on me, girl!"

With a shove, he forced her back into bed. "Get your hands off me before I put you in your place."

But while the scene unfolded, Quinlan’s hand drifted near the edge of the window frame. With a silent pulse of Earth Qi, he sent a thin ripple of force into the lower bolts, weakening their grip on the stone and subtly dislodging the locking anchor. No cracking, no shaking, just a gentle loosening. The kind that no one would notice until it was far too late.

Meanwhile, the guard grumbled and wiped his sleeve. "I’ll stay five more minutes. Then I’m leaving. You get your precious fresh air in that time."

The maids offered him hurried bows of thanks.

Five minutes passed.

The window creaked shut again. The locking mechanism slid into place, but Quinlan knew. It wasn’t the same anymore.

It was compromised. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

...

Three hours passed by.

"Whew..." Feng let out a weak exhale, now tucked in her bed with a dramatic blush on her cheeks. "I’m so exhausted..."

"You poor thing," the older maid cooed, dabbing her forehead. "But you’re not coughing anymore..."

"I feel..." Feng blinked, then smiled blissfully. "Better! Like, really better. Maybe it was the fresh air! No! It must’ve been your tender care for me!"

The maids gasped in unison, overcome with emotion.

"You precious child!" one said, hugging her tight. "That’s the spirit!"

"It was our motherly warmth that healed you, wasn’t it?" the other beamed, kissing her forehead gently.

"I knew love could overcome all ailments!"

Quinlan turned away slightly to hide his smile. This cheeky brat was one fine actor. She was playing these poor women like a fiddle. He was starting to feel bad for them.

Eventually, the maids stood and turned to him. "Esteemed guest," one said kindly, "Please watch over her through the night. If she worsens again, ring the bell. We’ll come at once."

He inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you. I owe you both."

The maids smiled, bowed, and quietly exited the room, leaving behind only soft candlelight, the echo of laughter...

... and two schemers ready to break free.

Feng waited until the door shut behind them, then looked up at Quinlan with gleaming eyes.

He grinned.

She grinned back.

...

They waited for just an additional hour to pass, ensuring the maids weren’t going to come back because they forgot something, or another such reason.

Then, it was time.

"Are you okay?" Quinlan asked. Feng had deliberately spent hours soaking in cold bath water so that she could pull this off. She could’ve pretended the whole thing, but she didn’t want to risk their escape, so she decided to sacrifice her health to make her act more believable.

"I am... My throat and head hurt, but I’m in a much better condition than I made it seem."

"You’ve done an excellent job," Quinlan decreed, earning himself a giant, proud grin from the girl.

Then, she moved behind him and climbed onto his back with her arms draping around his neck and legs coiled around his thighs with the fluidity of someone who’d done this a hundred times before. They’d been practicing. She nestled against him, muttering, "You better not drop me..."

"Of course not, I’m carrying precious cargo."

"Hehe!"

With her secure, he turned toward the window.

The reinforced frame that had once seemed unbreakable now had a vulnerability. Thanks to his earlier tampering, the bolts had been weakened in just the right places. A thin stream of Earth Qi flowed through his fingertips as he gripped the lower edge, subtly pushing into the fissures he’d mapped in his mind.

His arms flexed.

Veins bulged across his forearms and biceps, thick and corded like roots pushing through stone. The muscles along his shoulders coiled and tightened beneath his tunic; his extreme, raw physical power was utilized to the full. He didn’t yank. He didn’t brute force it.

This was precise strength, the kind that knew exactly how much pressure to apply and where.