Chapter 115 Like a gentle rain nourishing the earth, it nourishes the bamboo shoots, and the more it nourishes the bamboo...
Stars hang low, moon rises high.
A ray of clear moonlight shone down from the heights of Wuxiang Abyss, ignoring the branches that obscured it, and shone down as brightly as water.
The iron chain beside the couch was shortened to an extremely short length, forcing Heng Qichun to lie on his back on the couch to accommodate that length. His two wrists, which were restrained, quickly developed red marks, and his fingers soon became numb and stiff, unable to clench.
But it doesn't matter, because he can't care about that anymore.
The chains not only bound his hands but also encircled his ankles, forcing his legs apart and giving Lou Yan an opportunity to take advantage of him.
The wolf cub didn't get on the bed; instead, it kicked away the footstool beside the bed and stood close to the edge.
The fingers were still covered in warm saliva, and the slippery sensation was immediate.
"Uh...ah..."
"Take your hand away..." Heng Qichun tried his best to suppress the gasps in his throat, but he could not control his trembling body. He could only raise his head with his unfocused eyes and look at the bloodthirsty wolf in the afterglow of the violent trembling.
He heard himself say in reverse order: "Hands...don't use them, just, just...ah..."
Lou Yan stopped.
He held his finger up, examining his gleaming fingertip in the bright, silvery moonlight streaming in from the window, and suddenly grinned menacingly: "So Master doesn't like this."
He leaned down, bracing himself against the bed beside Heng Qichun's waist with both hands, and looked down at him, "Then I will..."
It's summer, even though.
But bamboo shoots sprout beneath the bamboo, and the more urgent the rain, the better.
Heng Qichun witnessed it with his own eyes, his eyes went blank, and he shed a tear that did not belong to a god.
The sound of the chains rattling from his struggle lasted for most of the night. Eventually, he had no idea what he was doing, and only one absurd yet unusually firm thought remained in his mind.
It doesn't matter anymore, really.
Everyone dies eventually.
We should take him down with us one more time!
It was almost dawn.
Lou Yan knelt on the edge of the bed, bent her fingers to brush Heng Qichun's hair aside, and then gently touched his lips, asking a series of questions: "Are you hot?"
"hot."
Does it hurt?
"pain……"
"Then..." He paused, hesitated for a moment, and asked, "*No*?"
Heng Qichun took a long time to answer. He tried his best to meet Lou Yan's gaze. His eyes, which had been cold for thousands of years, were already filled with tears, making him look pitiful.
He opened his mouth, but his voice was too hoarse to make a sound, so he could only force out a breathy "hmm" from his throat.
Lou Yan stopped.
On the muddy bed, he examined the people he had imprisoned there.
His white shirt was half gone, his underpants were torn open and slipped to the ground, leaving only a head of casually disheveled but exceptionally white hair scattered on his neck. He was panting heavily, completely unlike his former aloof and holy self.
This is his master, the last deity in the Nine Provinces, whose divine grace is connected to the Endless Tree, protecting all living beings in the Six Realms.
But he gets hot.
It will hurt.
It will cause tears and leave scars.
It might even feel good.
It is the pain and sensation that are amplified only by humans, the human race, and ordinary people.
Lou Yan was momentarily dazed, maintaining his bowed posture, but his eyes were fixed on some unknown spot on the couch. He began to speak to himself.
"Master..." Only a whispered murmur filled my ears, "What have you been hiding from me...?"
Heng Qichun had been tormented to the point of being unable to speak. He lay on the bed with his mouth slightly open, almost losing the ability to swallow.
I don't know if he heard Lou Yan's question clearly, but even if he did, he couldn't possibly answer it.
After a brief stalemate, the first rays of sunlight that had been filtering in over the past few days began to appear outside.
Heng Qichun's sweat vanished in that instant of panting. Despite the heat, he felt cold, and the muscles in his thighs trembled, quickly forming a layer of fine goosebumps.
Lou Yan stroked it, then moved up inch by inch, pressing it against Heng Qichun's arm, then turned her palm over and clasped Heng Qichun's fingers together.
Heng Qichun uttered a muffled sound, his mind, which had been clear for thousands of years, became a chaotic mess at this moment, and then, as if possessed, he grasped Lou Yan's hand in return.
This was the last bit of strength he could muster in his current situation.
His palms were covered in sweat. After a short while, the sweat had cooled down. When he suddenly touched Lou Yan's hot palm, he felt as if he had firmly grasped a hot potato.
not good.
This feeling made him inexplicably uneasy.
Heng Qichun was overwhelmed by a feeling of panic. His back, pressed tightly against the bed, tensed up. He used all his strength to try to pull his hand away from Lou Yan's palm.
However, it didn't work.
The wolf's paw seemed to have some ulterior motive, resolutely refusing to let go.
After catching his breath, Heng Qichun finally had a moment of clarity in his mind.
As if struck by a sudden thought, he began to struggle violently beneath Lou Yan, causing the iron chains binding his hands and feet to clang sharply.
"Let go, let go..."
The words came to an abrupt halt.
Heng Qichun felt as if his burning palms were tightly bound by something. He mustered all his strength to turn his head and look. He saw that Lou Yan's fingers were pressed tightly together with his, and between their fingers, a wisp of black demonic energy was slowly leaking out.
The demonic energy was as hot and scorching as a person, and in an instant it seeped into all the meridians of his body, drawing out his spiritual energy strand by strand.
Heng Qichun froze, his body stiffening for a moment before slowly relaxing, his meridians throbbing rapidly, causing his skin to tremble violently.
Something was rapidly draining away; a part of his body was quickly becoming empty—a feeling even more unbearable than when desire reached its peak.
Heng Qichun's face turned deathly pale.
For the first time, even he could smell the lotus fragrance permeating the air, which was pungent and cloying, making him almost nauseous.
That's so strange.
Heng Qichun mobilized all his still clear thoughts, recalling Lou Yan's words to him that night, stringing together all the questions and answers into two intricate lines, like their past and present lives.
All of Lou Yan's strange behavior tonight seems to need to be explained under such coercion.
Heng Qichun's face was pale, revealing a helpless feeling of rapidly draining spiritual energy. He spoke urgently, "Lou Yan, let go first, listen to me... um..."
Lou Yan lowered her head and kissed him, silencing all the words he hadn't yet uttered.
The sensation of their mouths touching was familiar, and Heng Qichun quickly succumbed to the wolf's fierce onslaught. Her chest heaved, and for a moment she forgot what she had been trying to stop.
As Lou Yan continuously drew spiritual energy out of his body, he gradually felt a bit dizzy, and his vision gradually became blurred.
The demonic energy lingered where the fingers and claws met.
That was the "evil-controlling spell" that Lou Yan used most skillfully, and that Heng Qichun had warned him from the beginning not to misuse.
Besides controlling people's minds, it can also detect the spiritual veins of anyone in the Six Realms.
Heng Qichun's spiritual veins showed no abnormalities.
That……
Lou Yan's eyes darkened slightly. Suddenly, he stood up and knelt on the couch. Looking at Heng Qichun, who had fallen into a deep sleep, he raised his hand, formed a hand seal, and broke the shackles on Heng Qichun's hands and feet.
The chains loosened, revealing the red marks on her slender, white wrists from her struggles, which stood out starkly against the pale sky.
Lou Yan held his wrist in her hand and gently stroked it with her fingertips. When she touched his wound, a wave of sorrow suddenly washed over her.
He had lost his immortal veins, and his cultivation level differed from Heng Qichun's, so he couldn't even use the Spring Return Technique to heal him.
But he thought.
What if... what if Heng Qichun really isn't a god?
The breath that had been hanging in the air seemed to have been kept alive for a few more moments because of this thought.
It should be daylight outside.
The dappled sunlight filtered through the shadows of the trees and the rocky walls, shifting inch by inch as the sundial turned, passing over the window frame and casting their inseparable shadows.
This is a long-awaited sunny day in the Abyss of No Form.
Lou Yan simply withdrew the evil-controlling spell and stopped probing Heng Qichun's remaining spiritual veins.
He stood up, his bare calves pressed tightly against the edge of the bed, his knees pressed firmly against Heng Qichun's toes, until the coolness seeped through his skin, reminding him that he could no longer hesitate.
Lou Yan bent down, supported Heng Qichun's shoulders, and turned the sleeping man over.
Her clothes were already disheveled, and without any tearing, one could clearly see the large expanse of Heng Qichun's exposed neck.
Lou Yan carefully brushed aside the white hair at the back of Heng Qichun's neck and immediately noticed the crisscrossing lightning scars on Heng Qichun's back.
On the few occasions when he and Heng Qichun were intimate in bed, Heng Qichun always tried to minimize the use of his back to him.
But he had embraced and licked, and knew that Heng Qichun had the scars of past suffering behind him.
Lou Yan reached out and ran her hand over the crisscrossing scars inch by inch, then placed her fingertips on the collar of Heng Qichun's undergarment.
With a slight bend of his fingers, he gently pulled down the collar, ignoring Heng Qichun's back covered in old wounds, and moved his gaze downwards.
Then stop.
Stop.
Stop.
His undergarments were pulled down to his waist, revealing the man's fair, slender back covered in scars in the early morning sun.
Heng Qichun has a beautiful figure.
Her spine, straight and upright like a pen, stretched downwards into the shadows, outlining a slender yet powerful silhouette. A silk undergarment bunched around her lean waist, making her skin appear as smooth and lustrous as fresh snow.
And at this moment, that pale back—
On the coccyx of the lumbar spine, there is a scar the size of a cup.
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