Mr. Long tried his best to suppress the curse in his body. He listened to the man beside him nagging about his plans for the future. He finally regained some consciousness, but it seemed a little fuzzy again.

Did he hear it wrong?

He must have heard it wrong. How could this cheap wife who came for the wedding not mind him in this state? She was crying all the time a few days ago, how could she change so quickly?

Mr. Long tried his best to suppress the strange emotions that surged in his heart. He was expectant and afraid, and he tried his best to brainwash himself:

It's impossible. He is a useless dragon. His tail is rotten and his horns are gone. There are curse marks all over his body. He is so ugly and smells so bad. How could she not dislike him?

Even when he was at his best, no one had ever treated him sincerely. This person must have had some ulterior motive to approach him... She was

so gentle when she fed him porridge just now. She must have been pretending.

Although the tyrant didn't know what benefit Mu Wanwan's pretending would bring to her, even he himself didn't know what else he could plot now.

His cultivation was almost sealed, and he was cursed. His most precious horns and tail tip were gone. After the defeat, his wealth was searched away. All his rights were lost because he trusted the wrong person. If he had to say that he still had something valuable, it would probably be the nucleus that was broken into several pieces.

Oh, if I boiled a body of bones into soup, it should taste okay, but I don't know if the curse of the monsters in the abyss is engraved on the bones.

Mr. Long thought with a bit of sarcasm, but no matter what he thought, Mu Wanwan didn't know. She counted the difficulties of future life bit by bit, and calculated how to reasonably distribute the monthly allowance. Her voice was very soft, like a pervasive fire, melting Mr. Long's defenses that had been put up with great difficulty.

"It's mid-October now, the monthly allowance is so little, and there's not much spiritual rice." Mu Wanwan was calculating the three meals a day in the future, and suddenly thought of something. She suddenly reached out and touched Mr. Long's exposed abdomen, and confirmed that there was only a little bulge besides the tightly arranged abdominal muscles, and then she felt relieved.

Her movements were actually very gentle, but the delicate touch with some body temperature suddenly descended on Mr. Long, who had never had any close contact with anyone except fighting. It was like several exploding fireworks with a tingling electric current that stunned him all of a sudden.

She touched him!

This was the only thought left in Mr. Long's mind. It took a long time for him to hear her next words -

"It's a bit crazy, but I don't think your stomach will be hurt." Mu Wanwan said to herself, "Then you can eat other things, but I don't know what seeds that bag contains. It would be nice if it's vegetables..."

Was she making sure his stomach was okay?

A strange feeling slowly rose in his heart, and the Tyrant's eyelashes trembled. He silently explained in his heart that his stomach was bloated when he was half dragon, which was different from other dragons.

When he was a child, it was because he didn't eat enough, and when he grew up, his stomach was also small.

The unpleasant memory was accompanied by the itching and pain of the dragon's tail. The curse of the monster seemed to have got a chance and continued to wreak havoc on the Tyrant's limbs.

Mr. Long tried his best to suppress the pain in his meridians, his face was pale and cold sweat was pouring down.

Mu Wanwan noticed that his brows were more tightly wrinkled than usual, and his scalp tingled when his eyes touched the black bugs that kept going in and out of his half-rotten dragon's tail.

"Does it hurt?" She encouraged herself and said, "I'll help you right away."

Mu Wanwan stood up a little anxiously. She remembered that there were some knives and gauze in the side hall. The wound on Mr. Long's tail could not be delayed any longer. She also needed to get some hot water.

But her messy steps and breathing were like sharp swords, shattering the tyrant's newly rising expectations.

She was indeed pretending.

Listen to her frightened tone.

She must have been scared by his appearance. What she said before was indeed pretended!

The tyrant sneered in his heart. He could feel some pus accompanied by bloody scales continuously flowing out of the horrible tail. The black and red curse kept rising and falling, which was very disgusting.

He thinks he is disgusting, so why should he have any expectations?