Chapter 219: Sistine’s Silent Suffering

She had believed that her father would finally smile at her, granting her the fatherly love she had yearned for.

But she didn’t know—every achievement of hers, in the eyes of her patriarchal father, wasn’t a blessing but a humiliation.

How could none of the men under his lineage surpass her?

The more outstanding she was, the more it underscored his incompetence.

Why was he so obsessed with grooming heirs?

Because he could never reach the rank of Sword Saint.

Among the world’s four great swordmasters, he was but a step away from Sword Saint. A step, yet an eternal gap.

He had been stuck at this rank for thirty years.

All his decades of swordsmanship were shattered in a single encounter.

The blow was devastating, so much so that he never took pride in Sistine’s accomplishments.

To him, her achievements were a disgrace.

Even worse, her extraordinary talent in swordsmanship led to her eyes being destroyed.

This gift of hers truly became a curse.

Her father saw her as a shame, and it brought about her tragic fate.

Yet, it was during that moment of tragedy that her father showed her the only tenderness she had ever known.

He smiled at her, acknowledging her success.

Her father had praised her.

The young Sistine, still naive and innocent, had smiled purely in return.

He held her hand and said he would reward her.

She hadn’t cared much for the reward itself.

Her father’s gaze alone, resting on her, was already the greatest joy she could imagine.

At last, her efforts hadn’t been in vain.

Sistine was elated, not noticing the darkness in her father’s eyes or the cruel truth about to unfold.

The only time her father had shown her kindness had been to rob her of her light.

She had felt so much pain, fear engulfing her. She couldn’t understand.

But her father had been resolute.

His voice remained gentle, but his words were terrifying.

“Little Tine, you’re the most obedient, aren’t you? So, you won’t rob your brothers of their pride, right?”

As his daughter writhed in agony, his face twisted into a cruel, sick smile.

She was merely a lowly girl, daring to touch the art of swordsmanship?

Did she think swordsmanship was something just anyone could wield?

Someone of her lowly status should know her place and never aspire to opportunities beyond her station!

To him, it was intolerable that the daughter he had barely cared for outshone the sons he had painstakingly trained.

She reminded him of something shameful from his past.

He had once been one of the world’s four great swordmasters, revered far and wide, yet he had been defeated by a mere twenty-year-old girl.

Her sword had been pure.

At his defeat, he still remembered the words that girl had spoken.

“Your sword carries too much baggage.”

Her voice had been filled with regret, but to him, it was the roar of a demon.

As if to say, 'You’re nothing.'

That girl had later become the world-renowned Sword Saint, the Moon Queen.

It wasn’t unreasonable that he had lost to her.

But he couldn’t accept it.

That he had been bested by a woman!

Seeing Sistine’s radiant smile, her presence on the stage, and her victory over the most promising heir he had raised, he had snapped.

In her, he saw the Moon Queen.

That same girl, standing on the stage, had looked at him with faint disappointment in her eyes.

His hatred for the Moon Queen transferred entirely onto Sistine.

He was her father, her ruler.

Had she obediently learned what a girl should—how to manage a household and raise children—he would have bestowed upon her the honor of being a swordmaster’s daughter.

But she had been too bold, too ignorant of her place.

Thus, he decided to take away her light.

To remind her of her identity.

He believed himself merciful for sparing her life.

Because she was, after all, his daughter.

The memory of her father’s distorted smile froze in time, leaving only the coldness that washed over her like a tide, making her shiver uncontrollably.

It was a moment that seared her pain into her heart, revealing the terrifying nature of men.

That had been her father.

Who had done such a thing to her.

All she had wanted was her father’s favor.

All she had desired was paternal love.

All she had loved was swordsmanship.

That was all.

To this day, her eyes still ached from time to time.

But tonight, that pain was gradually fading.

In the dimly lit room, her sobs gradually quieted.

Shia gently embraced the trembling elder sister, humming a soft tune.

His voice was soothing, warm.

Sistine felt the warmth he brought and unconsciously curled into his arms, seeking comfort.

When Sistine awoke again, it was the middle of the night.

The surroundings were pitch black, with only the faint moonlight allowing her to discern she was back home.

As she tried to rise, she winced.

Her body ached.

It felt as though she had been disassembled and barely put back together.

The sensation was peculiar, hard to describe.

“Senior, you’re awake?”

A boy’s voice came from behind her.

She recognized it—it was Shia, her junior.

Shia continued, his tone calm.

“You moved too much earlier. You need rest now.”

Despite his words, Sistine sat up, letting the blanket slip off her shoulders.

Under the moonlight, her pale, bare skin was exposed.

Warmth emanated from behind her.

Sistine’s mind flashed with a sudden realization, and her thoughts stalled.

She turned mechanically toward Shia, her gaze falling upon him.

It was then that she noticed their situation.

Seeing both herself and Shia bare, Sistine’s mind froze.

What had happened?

Why were they like this?

Countless questions swirled in her head, leaving her completely stunned.

Shia made no effort to hide anything, choosing instead to calmly explain.

“In short, Senior, you were poisoned earlier, and this was the only way to detoxify you.”

His words were concise, devoid of any unnecessary elaboration.

But even that brief explanation was something Sistine struggled to process.

'Detoxify?'

'Was this really the way?'

Sistine wanted to speak but hesitated, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

The last thing she remembered was the burning heat coursing through her body as she called for help.

Everything after that was a blank.

What had happened during that time?

She had no answers and no time to dwell on them because—

'Grrrrrr.'

A sudden noise broke the awkward silence.