Apocalypse King: Recruiting S-Tier Beauties With My Ruler System Chapter 47: The Confrontation of Women

*** Jiang Roulan ***

John left.

His sudden transformation shocked . I couldn’t even stand straight. My legs weakened beneath —my back leaned against the cold stone pillar like it was the only thing holding upright.

His sharp gaze was like a dagger that pierced through my facade. No longer the boy who joked or smiled with uncertainty.

He looked at like a man—with no doubt in his stride, no filter in his eyes.

A lone wolf ready to take what he wanted.

I should’ve followed him. I should’ve run after that shadow as he walked away.

But sothing... sothing stopped .

The wind rattled the windows, dark clouds rolling in over the crumbling city like a warning. Like fate trying to say Don’t stay still.

Mu Qinglan appeared in the corner of my vision. Her stare? Sharp. Territorial. Like a lioness spotting a threat near her den.

That eerie red glow flickering in her eyes made my skin crawl.

"Got a problem?"

She didn’t answer.

Instead, her eyes drifted back toward the door—toward John.

"John won’t choose you. He can’t choose you," she muttered, her voice cold but tight.

Her eyes nervously flicked between the door, where John had left and my face.

"Are you jealous, because he needs , Mu Qinglan?"

She trembled. Could’ve been rage. Could’ve been fear.

But ? I felt irritated. Angry that John was softer with her. Protective.

Yeah, I was jealous.

Even if I didn’t love him, I wanted his attention. He was the only man I could rely on. Strong, clever, and too damn honest. The kind of man every woman in this hell would look at twice.

I placed my hand against the cold stone, my gut tightening.

Why did I always taunt him instead of stepping closer? Was I scared? Maybe I thought he’d choose her—and that if I didn’t try, I couldn’t lose.

"..." Qinglan bit her lips and looked like she wanted to throw sothing. But she didn’t.

She turned, and her eyes changed.

Not red.

Blue.

John didn’t need to tell what that ant. The mood swings, her cold body, the tis she disappeared for hours with no excuse...

The blue-eyed Mu Qinglan was different.

More dangerous.

"I wasn’t myself," she blurted, her voice calm. Too calm. Like an executive about to fire you after congratulating your performance.

"I’m jealous. Of you... and the way he looks at you."

She climbed from the sofa. Her face was pretty, even to another woman like an ice sculpture. I hated that delicate and blemish-free face of hers.

She rose from the couch—graceful, distant, pretty in that icy, untouched way that made want to claw that porcelain face apart.

"Didn’t think you’d admit that," I said.

"Why not?"

"You’ve never told him."

She paused. "You’re not him. But I plan to."

We stood there like two predators, sizing each other up. Sa goal. Different thods. One of us was going to lose.

"What if he rejects you?" I asked.

Petty. I already knew the answer.

"He won’t." Her voice didn’t waver. "But even if he does... I wont give up."

Mu Qinglan gazed at in silence.

A woman of few words, but those words carried her intention and desires.

"It doesn’t matter... but," she grasped her tal bat while taking a deep breath. "Do you also like John?"

"What?" I blinked, surprised.

I didn’t know how to answer. He was hot. Smart. And if he pushed a little more, I’d sleep with him.

But like? Love?

Those words were still poison, at least. It didn’t make feel nauseous with him.

"I see. Then stop trying to get involved."

Her voice sharpened. A warning. No, a challenge. If I kept getting closer, she wouldn’t just stand back. She’d fight .

And the scary part?

I wasn’t even sure I wanted to fight back.

Because trusting anyone felt too fucking hard. Since my teens, people have only wanted for sothing. My na. My money. My connections. And when I didn’t give it to them, they bailed.

Even the best-looking man alive couldn’t fix that damage.

John wouldn’t fix that, but... that wasn’t to say he couldn’t.

"I have no plans for that," I muttered, "but if he wants ... I won’t stop him."

Yeah, I kept approaching him.

Even when I knew I shouldn’t like a moth to the fla, my body wanted him, and maybe deep down I was attracted to him as soone completely different to .

No wonder sothing felt off. I kept walking toward the edge without checking the fall.

Mu Qinglan studied in silence and then turned away.

"Was it John being naive... or you?" she asked, and her footsteps echoed away, leaving in the hollow apartnt.

The words stayed behind.

Maybe both.

I sank into the cold stone pillar again, mories swarming. My family. My past. The things I ran from. The things that still chase .

My parents tried to marry off at fifteen to a governnt dog ten years older. I ran. Beca a cop. Thought that would give a clean start.

It didn’t.

It just made it easier for people to try to manipulate .

n ca with fake smiles and expensive gifts. They wanted the idea of —not the real .

So, I learned to push people away before they could ask for anything.

Then, John happened.

He didn’t hide why he liked . He didn’t pretend to be noble or smooth. Just a horny, socially awkward guy who thought I was his type.

...Not that I can bla him. He’s also mine.

I ran a hand down my abdon, feeling the lines of muscle, the dip of my hips.

"So stupid..." I muttered.

The dark clouds drifted closer to the city. As the winds blew and thunder rumbled through the sky.

It seed to resemble the turmoil in my chest.

And yet...

Sothing shifted when he looked at earlier. That promise in his eyes. That hunger and softness all mixed together.

Because of my words, he faced with that look.

He wasn’t playing pretend.

He wanted all of .

And for the first ti in my life, I wanted to give it.

To ta .

To control .

Many have tried to do so in the past.

But for the first ti...

I t a man who didn’t ask to stop being myself—he wanted everything.

I found myself wanting to be tad.

Even if I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

***

I didn’t chase after Qinglan.

That wasn’t my style—and it never had been.

Still, my feet didn’t want to stay still. My chest wouldn’t stop aching.

Instead, I made my way to the far corner of the fifth floor—the rusted old room with the cracked tiles and a broken light. The training space. My fallback after a bad day at work or when emotions ran too loud.

My tonfa hung on the hooks, exactly where I’d left them.

I grabbed my tonfa from the wall—cold, familiar steel. The grips worn smooth from years of use. No frills. No tricks. Just sothing solid to hold on to when everything else felt like smoke.

Breath steady. Steps deliberate. Not fighting—just... preparing. Body and mind.

I spun one tonfa low, the other angled for a gut strike, driving them both into the padded post.

Thud.

But my head wasn’t in it.

I could still feel his gaze. That strange heat in his eyes. The way he looked at after everything I said—a hungry and passionate gaze.

And I liked it.

My grip tightened. Muscles flexed. I pivoted and slamd both tonfa into the padded dummy until the stuffing split open.

Again.

Again.

Again.

My grip tightened as I pulled back and dropped into a lower stance.

I wasn’t in love.

"Ngh... it hurts." I groaned, rubbing my wrist.

I stopped while panting for air. My palms were stinging from the vibrations running up the tonfa.

My reflection stared back at through that broken mirror. Scattered. Shaken. A little more honest than before.

"I might like him," I muttered.

Just saying it out loud made my chest tighten, but my shoulders beca loose and relaxed.

No one had ever made feel this way before... he slipped through my guard.

I didn’t want to fall or beco vulnerable.

Yet it didn’t feel like a weakness.

And maybe...

Maybe that was enough for now.