As I Have One Month Left to Live, I Raised the Naive Empress into a Yandere

Chapter 3: The Empress of the Demon Cult:

“Xu Cheng, I order you to slap me to death! Come on!”

Chen Mo stretched out his neck, thrusting his head forward, and roared like a beast.

The roar stunned everyone, not just Xu Cheng, but also Chen Jin and the crowd watching in the square.

No one could have predicted that Chen Mo would demand death at this moment.

“Third Young Master, you… you’re putting me in a difficult position,” Xu Cheng stammered, his throat tightening. He could discipline Chen Mo, but killing him was absolutely out of the question.

“I’m embarrassing you? Aren’t you embarrassing me?” Chen Mo shot back, his voice sharp. “You grabbed me the moment you showed up. Do you even see me as the third young master? By humiliating me publicly, do you even respect the Chen family or my father?”

“No, this… this is all on the family head’s orders,” Xu Cheng stammered, loosening his grip and stepping back.

“Kneel!”

Chen Mo’s eyes burned with fury, like a lion ready to strike. “I am the son of the family head. You have two choices: kill me or kneel before me!”

“Third Young Master, the family head instructed—”

“Kneel and then speak!”

Thud!

Xu Cheng’s legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees. He never imagined the usually timid third young master, who had always been like a quail, would show such strength today. Faced with Chen Mo’s ultimatum, Xu Cheng couldn’t choose to kill him.

“Explain!”

Xu Cheng took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, but his face betrayed his unease.

“Third Young Master, the family head has ordered me to bring you back to the house,” Xu Cheng said with a respectful bow. “The carriage is ready. Please, get in, Third Young Master.”

In any other situation, Xu Cheng wouldn’t have been so deferential. But Chen Mo was behaving so unpredictably today that it was better to play it safe.

“Fine,” Chen Mo said through gritted teeth, enduring the lingering pain in his shoulder.

Xu Cheng quickly got up and led Chen Mo toward the waiting carriage outside the square.

Chen Jin, still dazed, watched in disbelief. Something was different about Chen Mo today—even Xu Cheng had to yield to him.

Xu Cheng, his father’s most trusted enforcer, was a man of power and authority. Yet, here he was, bowing before Chen Mo.

As Chen Mo boarded the carriage, Chen Jin suddenly realized something. “Wait, that’s my carriage! I haven’t gotten in yet!”

Inside the carriage, Chen Mo sat in the main seat, his expression serious. Xu Cheng sat beside him, looking awkward and hesitant, as if he wanted to speak but didn’t dare.

Chen Mo glanced at Xu Cheng, a faint headache building—not because of the impending meeting with his father, but because of Ye Liangchen’s inevitable return from the restricted area in just over a month.

That meant Chen Mo had barely a month to figure out how to survive. Three options lay before him:

First, escape. But Ye Liangchen, no longer a novice, had a powerful network of intelligence operatives. Escaping his pursuit would be nearly impossible. Ye Liangchen was known for his ruthlessness. He wouldn’t even spare passing dogs, let alone Chen Jin’s blood relatives.

Second, sever ties with Chen Jin. While this seemed plausible, it was unlikely to work. His father would never allow it, and even if he succeeded, Ye Liangchen wouldn’t spare him.

Third, find a backer. But this option was equally difficult. Ye Liangchen, after returning from the restricted area, would be near invincible. Only a select few in the entire land of Kyushu could rival him, and those were people Chen Mo had no chance of meeting, let alone persuading.

A dead end.

Chen Mo bit his knuckle in frustration, his face growing darker with each thought.

Xu Cheng noticed the strange expression on Chen Mo’s face and began to worry. Was he planning something reckless?

Suddenly, the carriage jerked to a halt. Caught off guard, Chen Mo nearly tumbled forward, but Xu Cheng grabbed his shoulders and steadied him.

“Idiot! How are you driving?” Xu Cheng barked at the coachman.

“Elder Xu, Third Young Master, there’s a convoy ahead blocking the road,” the coachman explained.

Xu Cheng opened the window curtain to investigate. Chen Mo peered through the small gap and caught a glimpse of the scene outside.

The road was crowded, resembling a bustling market. At the center of the commotion was a long line of prison carts.

“It’s a convoy transferring prisoners to an outer-city prison,” Xu Cheng said. “Just wait a little while. It’ll pass soon.”

“Prisoners?” Chen Mo frowned.

The imperial capital already had its own prisons. Prisoners would only be sent outside the city if the capital’s prisons were overcrowded due to some major event.

Something clicked in Chen Mo’s mind. His eyes lit up, and without hesitation, he threw open the curtain and leapt out of the carriage.

“Third Young Master!” Xu Cheng shouted, chasing after him.

Chen Mo pushed through the crowd, inching closer to the convoy. 

After a struggle, he reached the front of the crowd and saw the prison carts lined up like an endless queue. Each cart held cages containing three prisoners, their hands and feet shackled.

Soldiers flanked the carts, their eyes sharp and vigilant, ready to stop any attempted rescue.

Chen Mo scanned each cart, his eyes darting quickly. Then, he spotted a particularly battered cart. Its cage was falling apart, and the prisoners inside were pelted with stones by onlookers.

Inside the cage were three women of varying ages.

The youngest, about six or seven, had chubby cheeks but wore a blank expression. Her head hung low, and she looked dazed.

The oldest, around eighteen, had a beautiful face marred by knife wounds and burn marks.

But it was the third prisoner who caught Chen Mo’s full attention.

She looked to be in her early teens, with long, messy black hair and a frail, skeletal frame. Her cheeks and arms were covered in unsightly lumps, and her mismatched eyes—one blue, one red—shone with an otherworldly brilliance.

In the superstitious and feudal society of the empire, such eyes were seen as a bad omen, branding her as cursed.

Because of this, she bore the brunt of the crowd’s abuse, enduring the heaviest barrage of stones.

Chen Mo’s lips curled into a rare smile.

“I found her,” he whispered. “The Empress of the Demon Cult, Liu Wuxin.”