Mrs. Huo is a Crybaby Chapter 1189 The Final Round

"Move out of my path," Song Yaoyao commanded, her expression darkening. "Huo Jiu, clear them out of here!"

"Song Yaoyao!" Huo Ningxi exclaimed, his face etched with anxiety and regret. "Uncle Zhang, please, you have to talk some sense into her."

"Miss Song, surely you..."

"Uncle Zhang!" Song Yaoyao’s face was grim as she spoke with a freezing tone. "Are you planning to defy me as well? I’ve already stated my position: I am staying by my Gege’s side this time! Wherever he goes, I follow!"

With those words, she shoved Huo Ningxi aside, yanked the car door open, and climbed inside.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Zhongli Xue's gaze. She moved quickly to pull Huo Ningxi back, preventing him from pursuing Song Yaoyao any further.

The vehicle tore away instantly, speeding off like a launched arrow.

Huo Ningxi remained standing there, looking hollowed out, as if his very spirit had departed with the car.

Zhongli Xue offered soft words of comfort. "Ningxi, don't let it get to you. This was her own path to choose. If you were the one in danger, I believe I would have made the exact same choice she did."

Huo Ningxi kept his head lowered, appearing as though he hadn't processed a single word she said.

Zhong Li thinned his lips and glanced down at the crushed flowers on the pavement. He clicked his tongue in annoyance before turning to depart.

"What a complete waste of time."

He hadn't witnessed the entertainment he expected, and instead, he felt a sharp sting in his chest.

What was it about that dog, Huo Yunque, that was so appealing? Song Yaoyao had to be truly blind to be so infatuated with him.

"Brother..." Zhongli Xue called out to him, her voice filled with hesitation.

"What is it?" Zhong Li asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked back at her with a neutral face.

Zhongli Xue felt a wave of nerves. "Do you... actually have feelings for her?"

Uncle Zhang looked toward the group and spoke up, "Everyone, since our Master is absent, I cannot invite you in for tea. I ask for your understanding." Having said that, he retreated into the courtyard and signaled the staff to bar the gates.

As the heavy doors shut, Zhong Li licked his lips, a mysterious smirk playing on his face. "Yes, she certainly is fascinating."

He then climbed into his car and drove off, leaving Zhongli Xue and Huo Ningxi standing behind.

...

Inside the car, Song Yaoyao had regained her composure.

She was fiddling with a medal shaped like an iris flower. Held in her pale, delicate hand, the small object radiated an ancient aura, heavy with the weight of history.

As the aircraft took flight, the sudden sensation of weightlessness and the thin air caused Song Yaoyao to shut her eyes tight.

The end was finally in sight.

The hour was late by the time they landed. Song Yaoyao and Huo Jiu shared a subtle, knowing glance. "I need to use the restroom. Wait for me outside," she instructed.

"Understood."

Song Yaoyao stepped into the quiet washroom. She could sense the surveillance trailing her like a persistent shadow, refusing to fade away.

Exiting the stall, she walked calmly to the vanity to wash her hands.

Click...

A faint noise reached her ears, and through the reflection in the mirror, she watched a stall door swing open.

A small smile played on Song Yaoyao’s lips; she was in a remarkably good mood.

"One, two... three..."

Just as she reached the count of three, a heavy knife handle struck the base of her skull. Darkness rushed in, and Song Yaoyao slumped into unconsciousness.

...

When her eyes finally opened, Song Yaoyao found herself in an unfamiliar building.

Unlike the crumbling hospital rooms of her recurring dreams, this was a strange, eerie church.

The deep crimson of the carpet and wallpaper resembled dried blood. Flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows against the walls that looked like ghostly apparitions.

The scent of iron and blood hung thick in the air.

Song Yaoyao showed no signs of panic. Instead, she took the time to observe her surroundings with curiosity.

Directly above her, perched on a massive cross, the figure of Jesus looked down with a gaze full of sorrow.

It was as if he were a silent witness, judging the insanity unfolding below.

Tap, tap, tap...

The rhythmic clicking of high heels echoed against the floor. Song Yaoyao turned her head toward the sound.

A familiar face entered her vision—a woman she had encountered only once. It was Armand’s mistress, whom she had seen at Alice’s 'funeral.' Thinking back, the venomous stare she had felt that day had definitely come from this woman.

"So, you are the woman belonging to that Eastern Satan? You truly are a beauty, like a perfectly crafted oriental doll."

Sharp, manicured nails scraped across Song Yaoyao’s cheek, leaving a thin red scratch in their wake.

Song Yaoyao let out a soft whimper as a single tear escaped her eye.

"Oh?"

The woman seemed intrigued. She leaned in closer to inspect Song Yaoyao. "Does such a magical creature really exist? You are incredibly fragile."

With a sigh, she straightened up and offered a graceful introduction. "I am Delia. Delia Lancaster."

Song Yaoyao nodded, studying her intently. "So, you’re the secret illegitimate sister of Alice who never showed her face?"

Delia stiffened for a moment but didn't lose her temper. "You are quite the character. I’m beginning to take a liking to you."

Song Yaoyao’s eyes crinkled with her smile, appearing bright and guileless. "The feeling is mutual. I'm glad to finally meet you."

However, Song Yaoyao’s calm demeanor finally made Delia realize something was off.

She arched an eyebrow. "You aren't frightened?"

Under normal circumstances, anyone kidnapped and brought to a place like this alone would be paralyzed with fear.

Song Yaoyao shook her head, her mood seemingly excellent. "I just didn't expect you to reveal your hand so early."

Delia looked puzzled. "???"

She suddenly lunged forward, grabbing Song Yaoyao’s chin. "What exactly are you laughing at?"

"I'm laughing at you. All this effort for nothing," Song Yaoyao replied with a smirk.

"Your man is likely at a hotel right now, fooling around with the woman you hate most. And the item you want from me? It’s gone. I really never guessed that the one plotting against me would be someone I’ve never even met."

As she finished, Delia’s grip tightened painfully, causing Song Yaoyao to gasp.

"Whether it exists or not is for me to decide!"

She stood tall, her freezing voice ringing through the church. "Shaman Yada, you may begin."

That name...

Song Yaoyao watched as an elderly woman emerged from a side door. Her face was a map of deep wrinkles, and she leaned heavily on a staff topped with a grotesque beast's head. She walked with a precarious wobble, looking as though she might collapse at any moment. A bizarre, dark green tattoo snaked from the back of her hand and disappeared beneath the sleeves of her Japanese robe.

Delia bowed her head, showing profound respect to the old woman.

"Shaman Yada, please commence the ritual."

"Is it her?"

The old woman finally approached. Song Yaoyao felt a strange sense of relief for her. As the Shaman examined her, Song Yaoyao noticed something startling: despite the woman's skin being as withered as old bark, her eyes were as vibrant and piercing as a young girl's.

Seeing such youthful eyes in such an aged face created a truly unsettling contrast.

The Shaman stared at Song Yaoyao intensely, falling into a sort of trance, completely motionless.

Eventually, Delia had to intervene to snap her out of it. "Shaman Yada?"

Swish.

The old woman looked up and shook her head, addressing Delia. "You have brought me the wrong person."

"That’s impossible!" Delia snapped back. "I am certain this is the one."

She turned her gaze back to Song Yaoyao. "You are Song Yaoyao, aren't you?"

"Indeed, she is Song Yaoyao! Shaman Yada, I can verify it!" The church doors were thrown open as a confident voice boomed through the hall.