"What's going on?" Ai Fengling stood in the sky, having just said goodbye to NIO, his heart was still pounding.
"None of you are at ease!" he sighed, then looked at his healthy legs. "If you don't step up your efforts, when will my legs ever get better!"
As soon as he finished speaking, he thrust his magically imbued claws toward his own bald head.
Then, he became lame again.
In mid-air, he propped himself up in a wheelchair, placed the wheelchair on the sword, and continued to float.
"Isn't this a bit wasteful?" He looked at the sword under the wheelchair, and after muttering that, he started to ramble on, "Never mind, my senior sister said it's called a sense of ritual."
Fan Zifan: ...
He stood on a tree on the medicinal mountain, holding a storage bag in his hand, which contained a hearse.
Produced by Wanzhang Peak, absolutely unique.
He held a rope in his hand, to which was tied a demonic cultivator who had already revealed his identity.
The other storage bag contained two corpses, who, according to the hearse, were members of the demon race, and their abilities had been inherited by the hearse.
Fan Zifan appeared here to find a secluded place to bleed the plants and conduct a research project on whether the blood of demonic cultivators promotes or inhibits the growth of immortal herbs.
Because this subject was bloody, destructive to humanity, and insulting to the demon race, he secretly went up a medicinal mountain that had been sealed off a month earlier.
But, to his utter surprise, just as half of the blood had been drained, a beautiful sight appeared in the sky.
Fan Zifan considered himself to be popular and had friends wherever he went, but this was his own sect. How could he not notice such a handsome young man?
At first, he couldn't connect anyone with his sickly junior brother, Ai Fengling, until...
He crippled his own legs, using magic to do so, and Fan Zifan immediately chickened out.
A righteous swordsman from a prestigious sect, after being harmed by a demonic cultivator, ended up learning the latter's techniques. Such a thing might be unbelievable in other sects, but…
His junior brother Ai is the one among the three who is most likely to surpass Wen Jinge!
Wen Jingge is such a pervert!
His junior brother had quietly evolved into such a terrifying person, while his senior brother was still fantasizing about taking shortcuts.
Why are there such big differences between people?
Fan Zifan couldn't understand it, and he didn't even think about it. He just hoped that Ai Fengling hadn't seen him.
If he sees it and wants to silence him, how can he escape?
What if he doesn't run away and his activities using demonic cultivators are exposed?
He is now caught in a dilemma, and in this dilemma, he is caught between two extremes.
"Senior brother, what are you doing?" A voice suddenly appeared above his head.
With a click, Fan Zifan saw the wooden wheelchair stuck in the treetop.
"No, nothing, just using the toilet!"
"Senior brother!" Ai Fengling fanned himself with his hand and sniffed. "Are you playing in the mud? You've already stopped eating."
Play, play in the mud...
Fan Zifan muttered to himself, "If he's playing with mud, isn't that just playing..."
"You, you, cough cough, what are you doing here?"
"I want to play in the mud too!"
I think you're just messing with me!
Playing in the mud!
Do you think I'm a piece of shit?!
His face remained as calm as his inner rage. "Where's the mud?"
"My senior brother isn't here."
Fan Zifan's good manners suddenly erupted at this moment, and he launched into a long string of beeps.
"That's about all my senior brother is capable of!"
"Who are you! You're not Xiao Qi! Xiao Qi isn't like you..."
"Scream?" he asked.
"Cough cough cough." Fan Zifan was about to speak, but at this moment his mouth twitched, breaking his composure. "Can you tone it down a bit? Otherwise I'll think you've been possessed by Wen Jinge."
"so?"
Ai Fengling demonstrated his amazing balance. Despite the wheelchair being tilted, he still knelt on it, showing off his smooth waist. While Fan Zifan stared wide-eyed, wondering what was wrong with him, he said, "Is it pretty?"
Fan Zifan felt a chill run down her spine, and anxiously bit her tongue to force herself to stay awake: "You are, you are Wen Jingge, right, right?"
"No, it's not." He resumed his cold expression, sending a ball of purple light towards Fan Zifan. "However, Senior Brother Fan's gaze towards me seems very strange! If I were Senior Sister, Senior Brother Fan would treat me..."
Ai Fengling flipped her palm, and a new sphere of light was forming. "Should we make an exception? Or perhaps..."
"Yes! That's right! This is what your good senior sister asked me to do!" Fan Zifan was going all out. He believed that, apart from himself, the only person on this mountain who didn't want Wen Jingge to get into trouble was the person in front of him.
Even Huo Yongfei, who cared deeply for Wen Jinge and tried his best to play the role of a good older brother, couldn't compare to Ai Fengling's life-or-death friendship.
"Oh." Ai Fengling was a little bored, and swung the ball of light down again.
Fan Zifan jumped down from the tree. The ball of light didn't hit him; it kept hitting the trees around him. Just as he jumped down, he saw a ball of white light.
"Damn it! You tricked me!"
“It’s not a scheme.” Ai Fengling took the ropes from Jing Wu, frowning in dissatisfaction. “The Demon Lord is about to wake up.”
"What do you have to do with me?! Wait! Hey! You wouldn't happen to be an emissary of the Demon Lord, would you?!"
"Would you believe me if I said I am the Demon Lord?"
As Fan Zifan rolled, he fought with the charging lion, shouting, "I'll say I'm a fortune teller! Do you believe me or not!"
Ai Fengling seriously considered the feasibility of this answer, taking in Fan Zifan's disheveled state. "...I believe it."
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