Chapter 275 My
Jiang Xianwan's hand, which had been flung away, remained suspended in mid-air, as if nailed to the spot by an icicle.
As the blurry blue outline in my sight resolutely disappeared from view, I even forgot to breathe.
The pain came a beat too late, and even the bewilderment was oppressive.
She didn't even have the strength to grasp the piece of blue clothing. She slowly hugged the legs, which were wrapped in wet clothes and were convulsing uncontrollably, and buried her face in her arms.
Hua Buxiu is gone.
Hua Buxiu just abandoned her and left.
The force with which she pushed her away was so resolute, so resolute yet so cowardly, that she let go of her hand.
He would rather die than...
Jiang Xianwan suddenly gave a short laugh, which sounded unfamiliar and devastating even to herself.
She knew that Hua Buxiu didn't want to hurt her.
Can……
Jiang Xianwan fiercely wiped his face with his sleeve, then looked up and expressionlessly got up from the ground.
She didn't believe it.
I don't believe Hua Buxiu would be willing to abandon her!
Jiang Xianwan's eyes flashed with a stubbornness. Despite the discomfort of springtime, she ran quickly, letting the vegetation tear the hem of her skirt.
Hua Buxiu didn't go very far. Her gaze gradually became unfocused, her steps became unsteady, and following the trail of blood, she stopped in front of a hidden karst cave.
Several strange beasts pounced from behind, but remained expressionless and refused to budge an inch.
She could almost feel the coldness of the claws touching her back, and her heart, pounding violently from running, strangely quieted down when she crashed heavily into a broad, burning chest and a torrential downpour of blood.
The hand that pressed against her back and then quickly released her was filled with extreme panic, the force of which was out of control.
His vision cleared again, and the man, whose posture had always been upright, finally exhausted his last bit of strength and clarity.
Unable to support his body any longer, he suffered a dull thud on his back and collapsed against the cave wall.
Jiang Xianwan remained expressionless, quietly watching the man who was no longer able to utter a single word. She stood there almost limply, showing no sign of pain.
Those long, jet-black eyelashes resembled butterflies unable to flutter their wings, and those eyes, once cleansed by spring water, had expanded to their limit, their emptiness reflecting the dim light of the sky.
The Adam's apple no longer moved; what was frozen on the face was not peace, nor relief, but a silent defeat left on the body after being violently stripped away by life.
And then there's the unbearable lingering fear and dread.
Blood slowly seeped from his eyes, dripping down his chin onto his disheveled blue robe.
It resembles blood but is not blood, it resembles tears but is not tears.
as if.
The fire in the furnace will soon go out, and the place will become desolate.
Yet, it also reflects a person.
Jiang Xianwan suddenly smiled, then, unable to hold on any longer, she gently knelt down in front of him, lightly wiping the marks on his cheek with her fingers, and rested her face on his knees.
Tears, unspoken, soaked through the damp fabric.
"I knew you wouldn't abandon me."
"mine……"
"Hua Buxiu..."
"Hua Buxiu..."
Hers.
Her master.
Even if these aren't that kind of feelings.
Even if you resent her, are angry with her, blame her for doing something absurd, and want to expel her from the sect.
Jiang Xianwan called out softly and tirelessly, as if trying to cover up her selfish thoughts. She hooked the lightly hanging ribbon with her fingertips and pulled it away from her waist.
That soft voice, through the misty fog, carried the budding feelings in his heart, empty and hollow, yet like a drifting willow catkin, calling his name.
The soft touch felt like a delicate, silky crabapple blossom that had suddenly transformed into human form and fallen into his arms, its face blurred and unrecognizable.
Perhaps out of bodily instinct, a heavy, drooping arm once again managed to brace itself with a weak force.
It felt as if I was embracing a dream I couldn't bear to wake from.
He felt a slight weight on his shoulder as his neck was encircled and gently pulled down with a kiss.
It really felt like kissing a delicate, juicy flower petal.
Hua Buxiu tucked her wet eyelashes, slowly raised her elbow, and carefully touched that warm cheek.
Water droplets rolled down the curve of his eyelids, like silent tears, or like a cold kiss.
His eyes were empty and helpless, yet there was a strange tranquility and peace between his brows.
With her dark eyelashes lowered, she gazed intently at the cheek nestled in his palm.
It was impossible to distinguish between reality and illusion; it was as if it were imprinted on his soul, becoming a kind of bubble-like obsession.
It was both a comfort and a wound.
That soft voice, honed countless times on his lips, finally, amidst the pain of his life being uprooted, became as unstoppable as his sword intent.
"Traitorous disciple."
"Is it really you...?"
"Um."
Jiang Xianwan chuckled softly.
She raised her forearm, her wet hair clinging to her cheeks, her fair and delicate face still wet with tears in her eyes, soft and tender.
It only shows the shadow of one person, with a touch of childish stubbornness.
And... the rampant and tyrannical behavior of those who abuse their power.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, watching him quietly as her eyelashes curved into a smile.
She doesn't care.
Perhaps, in Fei Ling's words, it is—
To recognize her is to know that she is in one's heart.
The heat within her body had clouded her senses, and her body, nestled in his arms, inexplicably relaxed.
She tilted her head back and kissed his lower lip, licking his thin lip line and acting coquettishly towards him.
"Then, who is this wicked disciple...?"
Her voice and the smile on her lips suddenly stopped as she realized he had grabbed her forearm and was trying to push her away.
The force was subtle, yet it conveyed a sense of determination.
A sense of despondency arose within me, and I instinctively flinched.
But stubbornly, he refused to turn back.
As her senses sank, she bit his lips hard, as if seizing something by force.
"Flowers Never Cease"
"You were the one who wanted to save me."
"You deserve it."
"I will not let you go."
Forget about it.
She didn't know if Hua Buxiu could still hear her, and her voice carried the madness of a robber.
Of course, ignore the trembling and choked voice.
Jiang Xianwan, with her hands almost completely exhausted, fiercely ripped open his outer garment and carelessly tossed it onto the cold, hard ground like a thug.
Taking advantage of his weakness, they grabbed a piece of his white undergarment and, from their high position, caused him to fall to the ground.
Her master was usually aloof from worldly affairs and had no interest in her.
Now he lay supine on his disheveled blue outer robe, his black hair spread out, his breath almost touching that of his disciple.
The wicked disciple leaned closer, his gaze fixed down, his insubordination exuding an overwhelming sense of oppression.
Hua Buxiu could not escape.
He endured it for far too long, driven by both physical instinct and surging, turbulent desires.
They no longer have the ability to expose the evildoers within them.
It was as if I was sleeping in a swamp, suddenly falling into a dream that shook my soul.
He tried to see the person clearly.
Trying to see this dream clearly.
And subconsciously afraid of seeing it clearly.
His fingertips trembled slightly, a faint fragrance lingered around his nose, and suddenly he abruptly withdrew his grip—almost recklessly, he grabbed the waist of the slowly swaying white robe with both hands.
His rapid breathing was suddenly mixed with a hint of aroused ferocity, and countless emotions surged and intertwined, almost shattering and collapsing him.
"Jiang, Xian, Wan".
Jiang Xianwan: "..."
Jiang Xianwan remained silent.
He was in a daze, his whole body was trembling violently, and even his tense toes were slightly curled up.
Tears fell silently, wetting my clothes like raindrops striking lotus leaves.
Eight large characters remain empty.
There was a familiar, overwhelming feeling of returning to the Wuyun Palace.
She even began to subconsciously fear the experience of being on her way to execution.
Even... at this critical, life-threatening moment, a breakdown occurs, and one feels an urge to burst into tears.
These men... none of them are easy to deal with!
She's dead.
She's doomed again.
Jiang Xianwan's pupils contracted slightly, and tears suddenly streamed down her face, a breathtaking display of despair.
"No……"
"No……"
"I did it..."
After a long time, she sobbed, her voice trembling.
It's unclear whether she was speaking to her pitiful self, or to her pitiful master.
As her cultivation level increased, her menstrual cramps became increasingly unbearable, and when they occurred, they became particularly severe.
Hearing a hoarse gasp from Hua Buxiu's throat, he swayed precariously, with no way to advance or retreat.
Half of her body regretted it, while the other half was completely immersed in the licking of lust.
I regret it so much.
I want more.
But they were even more terrified.
He showed none of the arrogance he had displayed earlier when he easily bent his knee; his face was visibly pale, and there was a faint red mark at the corner of his eye.
At the very beginning, he regretted his move, convulsing and barely managing to utter a few words of regret.
But the person beneath her wouldn't give her another chance to back out or let go.
Like a sudden, sweet rain, unfamiliar yet yearning, it trapped him deeply, leaving him powerless to break free.
His jawline lengthened, his prominent Adam's apple bobbed rapidly, and his pupils dilated to engulf his iris, as if sinking into an endless fog, or being trapped in a mist.
There was no turning back, and there was no way to recover.
But then again.
I don't remember being afraid of my wicked disciple crying.
I can't remember why my wicked disciple refused.
The alluring fragrance that had long been etched into her soul filled her nostrils, and the sound of her wicked disciple's dripping sobs, echoing in circles, was something she had never heard before.
It broke his spirit and caused his eyes to turn bloodshot.
His breathing suddenly tightened, and his whole body became as taut as a fully drawn bow.
“Jiang, Xian, Wan…”
The voice emanated from the depths of his chest, carrying a kind of overwhelming desire, and he straightened up abruptly, leaving no room for retreat.
She wasn't even given time to breathe.
With an almost uncontrollable force, her hands gripped the slender waist that was trying to escape, making it impossible for her to break free.
His soul had long since broken free from order.
Endurance, pain, greed, and longing... intertwined and collapsed into countless painful and shattered sparks.
His sexy Adam's apple suddenly bobbed violently, his breathing was low, hoarse and rapid, like a wild beast completely submerged in instinct, his waist taut into a sharp arc.
He trembled at the sudden tightening of the grip in his palm, and even more so at the impenetrable, inescapable space between them.
Even more terrifying was this person... his beloved but wicked disciple.
His wicked disciple.
The trembling voice was abruptly interrupted by him, and after a long while, another sob, broken to the extreme, rang in my ears.
He couldn't help but choke up a hoarse murmur, tirelessly repeating her name between his lips and teeth, along with the words 'traitorous disciple' that were etched with countless chaotic emotions, almost driving him to madness.
"Wanwan..."
"Jiang Xianwan..."
"Traitorous disciple."
His gaze lingered on her face, and the scattered fragments of light quickly coalesced and floated.
The force of his kiss was like that of a beast pouncing on its prey, almost ruthlessly prying open her lips, and uncontrollably taking over every inch of space, even her sobs were monopolized.
He wanted to hear her cry, so he kissed her neck, inch by inch.
It left behind traces of red upon light red, crushed like flower petals.
It will never regain its original crystal-clear color.
He tried his best to listen, and the wicked disciple fell silent again and again because of him, and wept softly for him.
He called out his name randomly.
They cried out repeatedly.
"Hua Buxiu..."
"Hua Buxiu..."
"……asshole!"
Hua Buxiu: "..."
His forehead pressed against hers, tears streaming down his face. He swallowed the tears from the corners of her eyes, and beads of sweat rolled down his Adam's apple, accumulating into a deep pool of passionate love.
All I know is that...
He wanted his wicked disciple to cry like that.
He wanted to hear his wicked disciple cry like that.
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