Littlefinger looked at the witch and felt a surge of fear.
The witch seemed very mysterious. She saw through Littlefinger's secret, which made Littlefinger find the witch terrifying.
The witch sat down at the table opposite Little Finger. Suddenly, she waved her hand, and Little Finger felt a sharp pain in his chest. Before he could react, the witch's black spike had already pierced Little Finger, leaving traces of his blood on it. The witch licked the spike with her tongue, and her long hair parted automatically without wind, revealing an old face covered with age spots. Her eyes were even more terrifying, with two white eyeballs staring at Little Finger.
Little Finger jumped up with a startled "Ah!"
Then, the witch's long hair automatically closed, obscuring her face, making her age spots and white eyes invisible, as if the scene just now was merely Littlefinger's illusion.
"Sir Gregor, Lord Petyr Baelish is absolutely untrustworthy," the witch said slowly after tasting the blood from her little finger.
Little Finger's face turned pale again.
He was indeed pondering a way to escape, plotting new opportunities for retaliation and survival. Given the chance, there was no doubt that he would betray the Mountain without hesitation and put him to death.
The witch tasted a little of his blood and declared him 'untrustworthy,' which terrified Littlefinger!
Because the Mountain is truly ruthless in killing! His infamy is too great!
Littlefinger had only ever heard many dark rumors about wizards before, and he had also heard a little about the prophetic reputation of the Witch of the West. He never imagined that the Witch of the West could see through people's thoughts and hidden conspiracies so miraculously and accurately through blood. This was truly unbelievable and hard for him to believe!
Littlefinger instinctively glanced at the enraged Demon Mountain, feeling a wave of despair wash over him, instantly engulfing him completely. He also felt as if an invisible hand had seized his heart, squeezing it to its limit; with just a little more force, his heart would burst with a 'bang'.
"Grandmother, I was worried that Littlefinger wouldn't be loyal, which is why I made him swear allegiance to me before the Seven Gods," the Mountain said, his voice laced with anger.
"Even after he swore allegiance to you before the Seven Gods, he is still untrustworthy," the witch said calmly. She gently put down the black spikes and the glass bottle, and parted her long hair that covered her face with her hands, revealing a young face painted with seven stars in white paint in front of Little Finger.
Littlefinger was dumbfounded!
The old, terribly aged face was replaced by a completely young and unfamiliar one, with bright, piercing eyes, but a set of teeth that were gleaming black, revealing an endless eeriness.
"Grandmother, since Littlefinger is absolutely untrustworthy, what should I do? Should I tell Lord Tywin the truth and then kill him?" The Mountain's tone was filled with murderous intent.
Little Finger felt a chill all over his body. He wanted to run away, to jump up and burst out the door, but he found that he couldn't move his body!
Even ten little fingers can't escape the Demon Mountain!
"Sir Gregor, you can only force Lord Petyr Baelish to swear allegiance outwardly, but you can't really control him. Once he leaves here, you'll have no way to deal with him."
"Does anyone have a solution? Even the Seven Gods' Oath can't solve it?"
"Yes, even the Seven Gods can't do anything. Assuming you don't want to kill him, there's only one person who can force Lord Baelish to be loyal to you."
Who can do it?
"Himself!"
The Mountain looked on in astonishment: "Grandmother, did I hear that right?"
"Sir Gregor, Lord Baelish is ten times more intelligent and resourceful than you. He will surely come up with a foolproof plan that can both keep him in check and put your mind at ease."
The Mountain immediately looked at Littlefinger: "Littlefinger, Earl of Sheep Dung, come up with a good idea that will put my mind at ease. If you can't, I'll cut off one of your hands and gouge out one of your eyes."
Littlefinger said hesitantly, "Sir Gregor, I'm thinking about it."
The Mountain, however, was already impatient and shouted, "Damn it, it's too much trouble to subdue you, you dog!" With a whoosh, he drew a short knife with his left hand, and with his right hand, he gently lifted his little finger across the table, pushed it against the wall, and then raised the short knife in his left hand, aiming for the little finger's right eye.
"I've got an idea!" Littlefinger cried out in alarm. "Sir Gregor, I've got an idea! I've got it!"
The Mountain's left-hand dagger swiftly pierced the wall near Littlefinger's right ear. The chill emanating from the dagger sent a shiver down Littlefinger's spine.
The Mountain glared at Littlefinger, and his back-and-forth with the witch, using threats and inducements, completely destroyed Littlefinger's confidence.
My grandmother was not only a witch, but also a master of elaborate performance.
"Littlefinger, Earl of Sheepdung, what brilliant idea have you come up with? Tell me!" the Mountain said calmly.
"Sir Gregor, I have written down the truth about how I instigated Lysa Tully to murder Jon Arryn, and about my plot to persuade Lysa Tully to frame the Lannisters for Jon Arryn's death. I have personally signed this confession. This confession is now in your hands, my lord. If I am ever disloyal to you, my lord, and you publish this confession, I will be utterly disgraced and die a horrible death, no matter where I am or what position I hold," Littlefinger said rapidly.
The Mountain's eyes turned to the Priestess!
The witch nodded.
Mo Shan swiftly pulled his knife from the wall: "This confession cannot be just one copy; it must be written in ten copies."
"I'll write!" Littlefinger said hastily. He secretly breathed a sigh of relief, finally pulling himself back from the brink of death. His strength had been completely exhausted without him realizing it, and he was only holding on by sheer will to survive. The pressure from the Seven Kingdoms' Demon Mountain was overwhelming.
Faced with the ruthless Demon Mountain, I would write not just ten copies, but a hundred!
The Demon Mountain slashed his short sword back into its sheath, then with a flick of his right hand, he threw his little finger to the ground with a thud: "My grandmother wants your blood first."
"Yes!" Little Finger got up, his body aching, but his tone was obedient.
"Extend your hand, Lord Baelish," the witch said.
Extend your right hand with your little finger.
The witch picked up the black spike in front of her and stabbed it into her little finger on her wrist. Blood gushed out and flowed down her wrist.
"Use a glass bottle to catch it; half a bottle is enough," the witch said.
"Yes!" Little Finger took the glass bottle with his left hand and caught his own blood.
Half a bottle of blood was poured in, and the bleeding on my wrist automatically stopped.
Littlefinger handed the half-bottle of blood to the witch, his heart filled with doubt and unease. The blood stopped flowing on its own, as if someone had pressed a hand against a wound. This kind of dark magic was something Littlefinger was experiencing for the first time.
The witch took out a finger-sized statue of the Seven Gods from the drawer of the table and said, "Lord Baelish, kneel down and swear allegiance to Ser Gregor before the Seven Gods."
"Yes!" Littlefinger obeyed obediently, lowering his head and doing as instructed.
Led by the witch, Littlefinger knelt before the Seven, and then, in the honor of the Baelish family and in the name of the Seven, swore allegiance to Gregor Clegane.
After the oath was taken, the Mountain threw the pen and paper in front of Littlefinger. Littlefinger picked up the pen, spread out the paper, and wrote ten confessions with a sincere expression and a serious attitude.