Every topic felt like a sharp scalpel, precisely cutting into the most vulnerable wound in her heart.
But whenever Sarah thought she was about to be "dissected," Ron would always suddenly switch to another light topic, as if everything before was just a coincidence.
This repeated "push and pull" gradually broke down Sarah’s psychological defenses.
She started to toss and turn deep into the night, Ron’s words echoing continuously in her mind.
Both fearing Ron’s next "probe" and secretly hoping he would pierce that thin layer of paper, giving her a chance for release.
Of course, Ron was not bored enough to want to torment or manipulate Sarah.
He was merely practicing the "emotional guidance skills" he had learned.
Researchers with long-term repression of negative emotions are prone to making erroneous judgments at critical moments due to psychological imbalance.
Therefore, appropriate emotional release is not only a need for mental health but also a necessary condition for maintaining rational thinking.
During each conversation, Ron would touch on Sarah’s sensitive topics at the right time, then withdraw just as she was on the verge of collapse.
This skill is known as "emotional massage," aimed at gradually releasing suppressed negative emotions rather than having them erupt all at once.
He was well aware that forcing too hard would only make the other party more guarded.
Yet this gentle psychological suggestion can unknowingly lead one to remove all disguises.
Especially for someone like Sarah with a plex past, the desire to vent often bees stronger than the instinct to remain silent.
She just needed the right moment.
.........
The moment soon arrived.
As Sarah brought a carefully prepared midnight snack to Ron’s study, she found him reading a treatise on Otherworld customs.
The pages happened to be turned to a Chapter on "slave trade," detailing the classifications and uses of slaves in various civilizations.
"Quite an interesting social phenomenon."
Ron spoke without looking up, his fingers lightly brushing the illustrations on the page:
"Slaves are often the best gifts among the strong, both a symbol of wealth and an extension of power."
These words were the last straw, breaking down Sarah’s fragile psychological defenses.
The accumulated fear, anxiety, and confusion over so many days all erupted at this moment.
"Enough! Lord Ralph!"
Sarah’s voice trembled, tinged with a choking sob, and the silver bells clashed in chaotic sounds:
"What do you really want to know? Do you think it’s fun to toy with a slave’s past? Fine! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you everything!"
She trembled as her snake tail curled herself into a ball, huddling on the ground.
Ron put down the book in his hand, turning to look at the emotionally overwhelmed Snake Woman.
His expression carried neither pride nor coldness, but a kind of gentle care.
"I just feel that you harbor too many painful things inside. Long-term suppression is bad for both mind and body."
His voice remained gentle:
"If you’re willing to speak, I’m happy to listen. Sometimes, the act of speaking itself is the best therapy."
Sarah looked at him deeply, finally understanding everything that had happened these days.
Ron was not playing with her, he was helping her.
In a way she had never experienced before—patient, gentle, and full of wisdom.
"I..." Her voice choked with sobs: "I do indeed have a lot... a lot of things I want to say."
Sarah began to spill secrets she had buried for years, like beans pouring out of a bamboo tube:
"I am indeed from the Burning Scale Clan, but only from the most peripheral branch of bloodlines."
Her voice carried pain, each word seeming to be squeezed from her chest:
"At my sixteenth ing-of-age ceremony, my Bloodline Awakening Ceremony... failed."
As the box of secrets opened, more dark truths emerged:
"In our clan, Bloodline Purity is everything. Only those who successfully awaken the Dragon Bloodline qualify to bee official clan members. The failures..."
"Failures are stripped of their surname, being slaves of the clan. Even the children of direct bloodlines aren’t exempt. This is called ’Judgment of the Bloodline.’"
The cruel traditions of the Burning Scale Clan unfolded before Ron like the peeling of an onion.
In that ancient and strict bloodline society, one’s birth determined everything, but the success or failure of Bloodline Awakening could pletely rewrite one’s fate.
"Yet the clan won’t waste any ’resources.’"
Sarah continued, her tone carrying a sense of humiliation:
"Failures who are ugly or deformed are sent to carry out the most dangerous tasks, which basically equates to a death sentence."
"And those with outstanding looks... are trained to bee various ’gifts,’ used to appease powerful figures from other forces."
Her voice grew smaller, akin to a mosquito:
"Because I was considered somewhat beautiful, I was sent to learn... various service skills. Then as a gift, given to Lady Cecilia."
At this point, Ron’s brows slightly furrowed.
Not because of sympathy, but due to the irrationality and inefficiency of such a social structure.
Discarding valuable human resources merely due to failed Bloodline Awakening seemed extremely foolish to him.
But he did not ment, choosing instead to continue quietly listening.
"Lady Cecilia isn’t the madwoman from the rumors."
Sarah seemed at a loss for how to describe it:
"She is merely a pure... lover of beauty."
This unexpected truth stirred a deep interest in Ron.
"She only likes beautiful things. Those invited to share the intersection point are the most handsome men and women of the Quicksand Lands. And those she annihilated..."
Sarah shook her head with a bitter smile:
"Were all because of bloodline mutations, being particularly ugly. In her eyes, ugliness is original sin. She cannot tolerate any unseemly thing entering her field of vision."
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