Chương 52: Madness of Liu Xinyou
"Is that person her master?"
Nian Xiaoyu swallowed hard, her eyes widening in disbelief. She cautiously glanced at Bai Zhanfeng, thinking to herself, "It can't be possible. How could a disciple incite others to attack her own master? What is even more shocking is that the disciple could pin her master to the ground and strike her so ruthlessly! This is nothing less than rebellion against one's teacher and a betrayal of one's lineage, surely deserving of severe condemnation from the righteous in the martial world."
Nian Xiaoyu's gaze gleamed with satisfaction as it lingered on Bai Zhanfeng. Surely, this time, he would see her true nature. What kind of woman would anyone dare to desire?
In her eyes, Bai Zhanfeng was the very embodiment of justice.
"Why did she leave so abruptly?"
Bai Zhanfeng was utterly perplexed. Xian Yue had no intention of departing; with the martial arts tournament approaching, how could someone so fond of excitement choose to leave at such a moment? They had expended immense effort to defeat that silver-haired woman; why would she simply walk away?
Xuan Yuanhao said nothing, casting a backward glance at Jun Pinyu, who was staring vacantly in the direction Xian Yue had vanished. Sensing his gaze, he turned to look at him, exhaling a sigh filled with unspoken meaning as his eyes shifted toward Feng Jiulan. Although he could not comprehend the drastic change, one thing was certain: this matter was undoubtedly linked to that individual.
"Your Highness."
Yun Qinghen stood behind Feng Jiulan, softly calling out. After finally reuniting with the princess, he had hoped they could share a moment together and ease her heart. Yet, it seemed that the princess departed in such a manner so soon after their meeting; his heart surely bore the weight of sadness and guilt.
All these years, that silver-haired woman must not have cared for the little princess properly; otherwise, how could the princess have been so furious as to pin her down? She was someone who cherished loyalty and affection deeply.
Feng Jiulan fixed his gaze on the direction of Xian Yue's disappearance until her silhouette became nothing more than a distant white dot, vanishing from sight. Only then did he turn to Yun Qinghen, his starry eyes filled with sorrow.
"Qinghen."
He softly called her name. Yun Qinghen looked up at him, and though Feng Jiulan opened his mouth to speak, he ultimately remained silent, scanning the faces of those around before turning back toward Haitang Courtyard, with Yun Qinghen closely following.
"Am I truly that useless?"
Feng Jiulan stood at the entrance of Haitang Courtyard, tilting his head back to gaze at the darkened night sky, which was shrouded in heavy clouds that obscured the radiant moonlight. The stars that usually adorned the sky were veiled in darkness.
His moon, meant to shine brightly in the night, surrounded by countless stars, was now hidden behind the oppressive clouds, all because of him.
His voice was calm yet felt like a sharp blade, as if he were asking himself or seeking validation from Yun Qinghen.
Yun Qinghen shuddered, letting out a sigh deep within her heart.
The events of that year weighed heavily on the prince's mind; he had shouldered all the blame.
"Your Highness, the princess would be heartbroken to see you like this."
Everything the princess had done was for his sake; if he was in sorrow, were all her sacrifices not in vain?
"My moon, you have suffered so much over the years."
Had it not been for his near-fatal drowning, his moon would not have left the palace, enduring countless hardships outside. If it weren't for him, how could she, at such a young age, have blood on her hands? He, as her brother, had failed to protect her.
**
"Young Master."
Lei An and Lei Yun rushed forward, bowing respectfully behind Lan Yixuan.
As the crowd dispersed, only Lan Yixuan remained, gazing at the empty space ahead.
With an air of nonchalance, he seemed to bear the weight of the world upon his shoulders, appearing utterly unconcerned. What had that person done to her to make her lose control like this?
He had never witnessed Xian Yue like this before, her petite figure strikingly vulnerable.
He turned to glance at the direction of Haitang Courtyard, his brows furrowing in contemplation.
"You all should return first."
**
Xian Yue supported Liu Xinyou as they confidently exited through the main gates of Tianfu, unimpeded by anyone.
When she had earlier pinned Liu Xinyou to the ground and struck her, Xian Yue had sealed the pathways of her vital energies. After their scuffle, Liu Xinyou had expended considerable qi, unable to break free from the sealed meridians, her strength diminished to the point of relying entirely on Xian Yue to guide her.
She followed quickly, even in her weakened state, unable to fall behind.
Regardless of Liu Xinyou's labored breaths, Xian Yue walked briskly, whether due to the night's chilling wind or her own simmering anger, her bright eyes tinged with red, lips pressed tightly together in a manner that suggested she was ready to bite at any moment.
On the dimly lit streets at midnight, the fog hung heavily, resembling thick smoke that lingered indefinitely. The moonlight was obscured by dense clouds, as if they were lost in a haze, rendering the path ahead utterly unclear.
Xian Yue dragged Liu Xinyou down the street, taking a turn into an empty alley. Much like Yanjing, this area was home to the most impoverished citizens of Pansheng. Beneath the eaves, tattered lanterns swayed in the wind, their flames nearly extinguished.
If not for the martial practitioners, this place would be utterly shrouded in darkness.
Upon entering the alley, Xian Yue let out a long breath and unceremoniously tossed Liu Xinyou aside. Liu Xinyou leaned weakly against the wall, her body limp, sliding down slowly. She looked at the increasingly irritable Xian Yue, her smile growing wider, satisfaction radiating from her.
In just half a year, she had befriended the five most outstanding men of the Zhou dynasty, successfully capturing their attention. Her capabilities far exceeded her initial expectations, yet unfortunately, she had a fatal weakness firmly in her grasp.
No matter how she pretended, she could not deny her concern for that person.
That disfigured face bore an air of triumph that ignited Xian Yue's fury further. Her patience had always been remarkable, but the condition was clear: do not touch her bottom line.
Earlier, she had restrained her anger, yet it still felt insufficient.
"Liu Xinyou."
Xuan Yue roared with ferocity, resembling a frenzied leopard as she lunged forward, gripping Liu Xinyou's neck with one hand. A slight pressure caused Liu Xinyou's complexion to turn an even more ashen shade. Xuan Yue's eyes widened, blazing with an intensity that seemed capable of reducing Liu Xinyou to ashes; her breath came in rapid gasps, even more frantic than Liu Xinyou's, exhaling a heated air akin to molten fire. "Tell me, what exactly have you done to my brother?"
Torturing her like a madwoman while plotting against her brother, this woman, even if subjected to a thousand tortures, could never assuage the hatred burning within Xuan Yue; she deserved nothing less than annihilation.
Liu Xinyou stared at Xuan Yue, letting out two soft, mocking laughs that were chilling and derisive. "You're a madwoman, Liu Xinyou."
Her heart churned tumultuously, as if it were swept away by tumultuous waves, engulfing her entirely. She yearned to struggle, yet found herself devoid of strength; she longed to weep, but stubbornly refused to shed tears.
If she could not muster the strength within herself, how could she ever hope to protect others?
Liu Xinyou's capabilities were well-known to her; the poison she concocted was virtually unsolvable by anyone. A fiery resentment had been festering within Xuan Yue since that day in Pear Blossom Pavilion when Liu Xinyou revealed her twisted nature. It was a flicker of flame that had grown into an uncontrollable blaze.
Liu Xinyou made no attempt to fight back; she simply surrendered to Xuan Yue, allowing her to leave marks upon her skin. Eventually, Xuan Yue, weary from the onslaught, released her grip on Liu Xinyou's collar. Leaning against the wall behind her, both women sat facing each other, panting heavily.
The night wind was chilly, and in that moment, Xuan Yue appeared even more disheveled than when she fled from Pear Blossom Pavilion.
Lan Yixuan had followed Xuan Yue from the Tiangu, concealed upon the rooftops. Observing the wild fury of Xuan Yue, she resembled a small beast that had lost all reason.
Brother? A sudden smile broke across his lips, radiating brilliance as if the heavy black clouds above had parted.
So, the person she yearned to protect all along was her brother? Such profound sibling affection—
Xuan Yue sat on the ground, her legs drawn up, gasping for breath. Rubbing her pained hands, she tucked her disheveled hair behind her ears and took a deep breath. Within moments, her emotions had calmed, her breathing gradually stabilizing. Rising from the ground, she approached Liu Xinyou and extended her open palm. "Give me the antidote."
Liu Xinyou lifted her gaze, her face—once cherished by time—now marred with bruises and a pallid hue, the sheen of her silver hair no longer exuding any grace.
"There is no antidote."
The lifeless four words struck Xuan Yue like a blunt iron rod, causing her heart to ache profoundly.
"Every three months, the poison resurfaces. The first time, the pain is unbearable; the second time, it leads to complete decay; and the third time, it results in bleeding from all orifices, leaving a body that dissolves into a puddle—nothing remains."
Liu Xinyou had expected her to be furious, to go mad, to inflict even greater harm upon herself. Yet, contrary to her expectations, Xuan Yue reached out, helping her to her feet. "I'll take you home."
The chilling calmness was almost frightening. Liu Xinyou was momentarily taken aback, contemplating for a moment before swiftly realizing it was her own capitulation.
"Is it the junior sister?"
As Xuan Yue helped Liu Xinyou stand, a voice suddenly pierced the tranquil night, not powerful like Bai Zhanfeng or Xuanyuan Hao, but light as gossamer, seemingly drifting from a distant horizon, imbued with a sense of ethereal shame.
Xuan Yue distinctly felt Liu Xinyou's weakened body tremble, as if struck. She turned, her gaze fierce, and in an instant, Liu Xinyou's bruised face displayed an undeniable pallor, her lips pressed tightly, unable to suppress the tremors within.
Junior sister? She had no senior brothers.
Releasing her grip on Liu Xinyou, Xuan Yue began to turn away, only for Liu Xinyou to suddenly grasp her clothing, pulling her tightly. Raising her head, her darkened eyes, wrought with anguish and conflict, bore an intensity that conveyed deep longing and ingrained hatred.
"Go."
The single word, spat between clenched teeth, was almost forced from her lips.
Xuan Yue's lips curled upwards; in all the world, only one person could provoke such a violent reaction from her. Without a moment's thought, she let go of Liu Xinyou. "I must see the man who drives you to madness."
The white figure moved like the wind. Liu Xinyou glanced at her empty right hand before abruptly turning, the air still resonating with the lingering echo: "Shall I teach that unfaithful man a lesson for you?"
Turning stiffly, she pursued him.
For twenty years, she had gazed daily upon a lifeless portrait, her resentment having long since piled into a mountain. Yet, she could not help but feel an insatiable desire to see if, after two decades apart, he still exuded the same refined charm, if he had managed to thrive without her.
Though her heart was full of affection, it had long since morphed into hatred for the man who had cast her aside before their wedding, turning her into a laughingstock. Why should he deserve her love?
Did she not seek to find the one who could bring order to the chaotic world? Very well, then she would ensure that chaos remained eternal. Until the Phoenix Maiden rose, she would watch as those striving for unity faltered.
Xuan Yue stood with her hands clasped behind her back, gazing upward, her bright eyes fixed upon the man before her. Four words leaped to her mind: ethereal and transcendent. Yes, that was it—his presence was shrouded in a mist of mystery, radiating an otherworldly allure.
This man was unfamiliar to her, yet he was not entirely a stranger; memories of the small attic she could only lock when Liu Xinyou was absent flooded her thoughts. Above her bed hung a painting of two faces, almost identical.
Liu Xinyou, this woman possessed all the flaws that outstanding women often do: self-importance. Take that painting for example; she believed she had hidden it well, but it had been discovered just the same.
She yearned to keep her secrets tightly held, wishing to be like a swallow with broken wings, never able to fly. She thought she knew everything about herself, but aside from that card she clutched so dearly, she had nothing.
Yet, with that card in her hand, she felt fearless, for it represented something she could never abandon.
Liu Xinyou rushed forward, her urgency palpable. However, upon seeing that face, she felt as if time itself had frozen. She forgot to shield the visage that Xuan Yue had nearly marred, forgetting her intense hatred. In that moment, she merely stared, wide-eyed, directly at the person who smiled back at her.
For twenty years, he seemed to have changed little. His refined and handsome visage bore eyes that were the clearest and gentlest she had ever seen, enveloped in an enduring compassion. In those early days, she had been like a moth drawn to a flame, only to realize, when she was deep in the fire, that it was an ocean—a relentless tide that ultimately drowned her. His lips curved slightly upward, giving the impression that he was perpetually smiling, exuding warmth.
As Xian Yue gazed at his smile, her brows furrowed involuntarily, for it evoked memories of another person. A glance at Liu Xinyou revealed a disoriented figure; her expression betrayed nothing, yet the turmoil within her surely matched Xian Yue's own anger upon learning of her brother's plight at Liu's hands.
Did she feel sympathy? Did she feel pity? Not in the slightest; she reveled in it. Liu Xinyou's teachings had imparted a profound lesson: the agony of physical pain could never compare to the torment of the mind. Her hatred for Liu stemmed, in part, from the suffering inflicted upon her body, but more so from Liu's cruel mockery of her brother's life. That forbidden topic haunted her nights, robbing her of sleep and frequently awakening her from nightmares.
In this world, anyone could inflict bodily pain, but only those closest to us could strike at the heart, inflicting wounds that ran deep—her brother, and this man who toyed with Liu Xinyou. In this moment and place, encountering the bane of her existence was surely beyond her expectations; it was a lesson in heartache, a reminder of the life she had endured over the past decade. This way, when she roared in indignation in the future, Liu would think twice.
Liu Xinyou felt a tumult in her mind, utterly unaware of her own thoughts, as if she had lost the capacity to reason. She merely stared wide-eyed, intent on etching his image into her memory, as if she were destined to spend the next twenty years immersed in loneliness, longing, and hatred—or perhaps she would leave this world before that day arrived, finally liberated.
Reason told her to charge at him, to deliver a fierce reprimand for his past abandonment, yet her heart was ungovernable, her gaze drawn only to him, this tangible presence, silently affirming that her heart still beat.
"Little junior sister."
The man called gently to her, but Liu Xinyou remained lost in her thoughts. His gentle gaze radiated a warmth and tenderness, a manifestation of his love for Liu Xinyou.
"You are still as beautiful as ever."
He smiled, the affection in his eyes intensifying, akin to a gentle spring breeze—neither the vastness nor depth of an ocean, yet so profound that it sapped her of the will to resist. Beautiful? Liu Xinyou could hardly recognize beauty in herself now; her once pristine white attire was stained black, utterly filthy, her hair a disheveled mess. One of her eyes, if she recalled correctly, bore a deep bruise, leaving her face marked in hues of blue and purple, far from the breathtaking beauty she once was. Had his eyes failed him, or was it true that love blinded one to such imperfections?
"Master, your face."
Xian Yue pointed at Liu Xinyou's visage, her voice unyielding, clear, and penetrating, intended to jolt her from whatever stupor had claimed her thoughts. Liu Xinyou had made her life miserable, and she would see to it that Liu suffered in kind—she would watch the performance unfold to its bitter end.
Liu Xinyou's eyes involuntarily darted toward the hand reaching for her, reminiscent of a warmth she had longed for during those early years. Yet gradually, as her heart had frozen over, hope dissipated. She was still yearning.
Fixating on that warmth, she abruptly withdrew from his grasp, pivoted, and covered her face with her hands, crouching low. "Ye Wujing, get away from me!"
The azure-clad man's hand froze in midair, his gaze lingering on Liu Xinyou's silver hair, cascading over her shoulders. The pain in his eyes was evident, even on this starless, moonless night. Ye Wujing's hand, suspended in the air, finally settled on Liu Xinyou's shoulder, and a mournful sound broke the stillness of the night—her sobs.
Liu Xinyou was crying, her first outburst in ten years.
Xian Yue stood by, retreating a few steps to lean against the wall, her brow knitted in confusion over Liu Xinyou's emotions.
Twenty years? Life holds few spans of three years, let alone two decades. Wasn't two decades of hatred enough to erode her love for the man named Ye Wujing? Shouldn't she, too, rage like a madwoman and punish him for his heartlessness?
Her words had merely been spoken in passing, yet she was astounded by the depth of her feelings, instinctively shielding her face. Hatred had become a habit, but was she still so affected by his opinions? Had it all become an ingrained routine?
Xian Yue found Liu Xinyou perplexing. Where had the fierce woman, more fearsome than a mother tiger, gone? If it had been her—
Xian Yue rested her chin on her hand, contemplating: if it had been her to confront the man who had so callously abandoned her, she wouldn't merely endure his accusations; if he gazed at her with those tender, guilt-ridden eyes, no matter how ragged she appeared, as long as she had breath in her lungs, she would have charged at him, pinning him to the ground, raising her chin defiantly, and declaring that she could thrive without him.
For if it were true love, how could one allow themselves to suffer, to grieve, or to shed tears? If love were mingled with other feelings, or if it could not be acknowledged by him, then why endure the pain?
"Wujing, senior brother."
Liu Xinyou suddenly turned around, grasping his hand firmly where it rested on her shoulder. "Will you go to the Pear Blossom Pavilion with me?"
Xian Yue listened to her words, and as she met those earnest eyes, she nearly choked on her emotions. The cold-hearted Liu Xinyou, so humbled before that man? Like a fool, she refused to let go, even if she drowned in the Yellow River.
Liu Xinyou herself could not comprehend why she had transformed into this version of herself, why such words had escaped her lips. Yet, she found herself powerless to resist the warmth he radiated. With just a simple "little junior sister," her heart quickly concocted a myriad of excuses to forgive him for his departure, recalling the countless memories shared as childhood companions. How could they ever be erased?
Crouched on the ground, Xian Yue felt that Liu Xinyou was beyond redemption. There's an old saying: a good horse doesn't return to old grass. Yet here she was, clinging desperately to the past. Just how deep was that affection? Deep enough to force her to abandon her dignity and principles, to sink to the very depths of despair—this was truly unfathomable.
Then, as she thought of Feng Jiulan, Xian Yue began to grasp Liu Xinyou's emotions. In this world, there always exists that one person who can leave you breathless, whether through familial bonds, friendship, or, more often, love.
Ye Wujing gazed at the crouched Liu Xinyou, sighing internally, his eyes reflecting a mixture of reluctance and inquiry. "Where is Feng Nü?"
Liu Xinyou glared at Ye Wujing, her eyes wide, desperately holding back the tears threatening to spill. Just a moment ago, her gaze had been soft and pleading, like a beautiful dream, but in the next instant, it transformed into that of a ravenous tiger, exuding an almost primal rage. In that moment, even Xian Yue felt a twinge of sympathy for Liu Xinyou.
Twenty years of hatred cannot be simply cast aside. The depth of her love over those years paralleled the anguish she had endured. Though it was a simple question, it demanded a courage and resolve that most people could scarcely muster.
This Ye Wujing was capable of such cruelty toward the one he cherished; he was ruthless. Such a man she held in disdain.
Suddenly, Liu Xinyou rose to her feet, summoning an unexpected strength to shove Ye Wujing backward with force.
Ye Wujing showed no intention of retaliating; rather, he purposefully staggered backward, tripping over a large stone. Xian Yue assumed he would deftly evade it, but instead, he collided headfirst against a nearby wall, blood gushing forth.
"Master."
At the moment Ye Wujing fell, a purple figure darted past, a voice of surprise that sounded remarkably familiar.
Leaning against the wall, Xian Yue turned to see Lan Yixuan helping Ye Wujing to his feet. When had he arrived, and how much had he overheard?
Damn it, she cursed herself for being so careless. Now, there was no room for concealment. In a way, this was for the best; henceforth, she could meet her brother openly, without evasion. She truly missed the embrace of her brother.
Liu Xinyou looked down at her hands, a sudden laugh escaping her lips.
The night breeze tousled her hair, and her laughter, though seemingly light, was laden with sorrow, echoing as if her entire world had crumbled.
"Ye Wujing, did you come today merely to ask me this?"
With each step she took toward him, it felt as if she were expending every ounce of her strength.
"Xuan'er."
Ye Wujing grasped Lan Yixuan's hand, rising unsteadily. The blood continued to flow from his forehead, and his once handsome features appeared ghastly, marred by crimson streaks.
Though his back remained straight, he could not bear to meet Liu Xinyou's gaze, remaining silent for a long while before reluctantly uttering, "Little junior sister."
Gone was any trace of sympathy in Liu Xinyou's eyes. Xian Yue had to concede that love was a most enigmatic thing.
Just moments before, this seemingly unyielding woman had set aside twenty years of loneliness and resentment to reclaim the man she adored, laying down her pride and principles in the hope of rekindling his heart. Yet now, as the last flicker of hope extinguished, even with his bloodied form before her, she could meet it without so much as a frown.
Sometimes, indifference does not stem from a lack of love, but from a love so profound that it leaves one deeply wounded.
"Do not call me that."
She seemed to have lost her mind, covering her ears.
"Do you think that by doing this, you can compensate for the harm you've inflicted upon me? Do you believe that I will forgive you? Or is it merely to ease your own conscience? Ye Wujing, the black strands of my hair have turned white because of you. After twenty years of a life worse than death, you should feel guilty. Do not trivialize my suffering as mere wounds; even death cannot alter the pain you've caused me."
Liu Xinyou's hysteria echoed through the air, while Xian Yue stood quietly nearby, her face a mask of sorrow, her eyes filled with despair.
Suddenly, she felt a flicker of gratitude, for the one for whom she willingly cast aside her dignity and principles was her brother. Her brother would never treat her the way Ye Wujing treated Liu Xinyou. Feng Xian Yue was the cherished jewel in Feng Jiulan's palm; everything he did was for her sake. He would never utter cruel words to her, let alone commit such acts of cruelty.
Because familial bonds were placed above all, love would not become a tragedy.
Xian Yue watched as Lan Yixuan approached, his lips curling into his eternal smile, embodying Ye Wujing's captivating charm mingled with an aristocratic grace he did not possess.
"What brings you here?"
She glanced around; the ground was uneven and strewn with coal dust—certainly not a place he would choose to frequent.
"Are you really going to leave with her?"
His tone was calm, devoid of any discernible emotion.
Xian Yue looked up, a hint of suspicion in her gaze. Shouldn't he be attending to his injured master right now? Her decision to leave shouldn't significantly concern him.
"In a few days, the Martial Arts Conference will commence."
As Xian Yue opened her mouth to express her gratitude for Lan Yixuan's reminder, Liu Xinyou suddenly interjected, addressing her pointedly: "Xian Yue, do you see? Time makes all men fickle."
If Liu Xinyou had been a normal woman, and had shown herself even a modicum of care over the past decade, Xian Yue would have approached her confidently, nodding in deference. But the truth was that for the last ten years, Liu Xinyou had offered her only torment, showing no signs of affection.
"Master, you cannot condemn an entire ship for the faults of a single person."
Xian Yue approached Liu Xinyou with a smile, meeting her gaze that seemed eager to devour her: "There are still good men out there."
At least in her eyes, her brother—Feng Jiulan—was a man of unparalleled perfection.
"She is Feng Nü?"
Ye Wujing gazed at Liu Xinyou, pointing at Xian Yue, his eyes brimming with delight.
Feng Nü? Lan Yixuan regarded Xian Yue with newfound contemplation, glancing at the jubilant Ye Wujing. Such absurd notions as "he who possesses Feng Nü conquers the world" were utterly unbelievable to him. Yet, if that woman were indeed Feng Nü, perhaps she might be worth pursuing.
Xian Yue frowned, puzzled as to why the conversation had shifted back to her. Only a fool would believe such talk; a harmonious era is crafted by the wise.
"Ha ha, weren't you wishing for unification across the seas? With me around, you shall never achieve that."
Xian Yue stared incredulously at the pained expression on Ye Wujing's face. So, it was he who was the true villain behind all this; Liu Xinyou's actions were merely acts of vengeance.
As she pondered, Liu Xinyou ceased her laughter, grasping Xian Yue's hand and drawing her to the astonished Ye Wujing, pointing at Lan Yixuan with her other hand. "This is the man you have chosen."
Her gaze flickered between Xian Yue and Lan Yixuan, raising an eyebrow. "What a pair of talents, indeed."
She clicked her tongue in feigned regret, then shifted her attention to the still composed Lan Yixuan. "What a pity, truly a pity."
While she spoke of regret, she could not suppress her laughter, an expression of triumph spilling forth.
"Twenty years ago, your master abandoned me, and now, you shall never gain the love of my disciple."
Her dark eyes shimmered with an inexplicable certainty.
She turned to face Xian Yue directly. "If you dare develop feelings for him, that person will die."
Xian Yue wrenched her hand from Liu Xinyou's grip, glaring at her indignantly. "Liu Xinyou, what madness is this?"
Feelings for him would lead to her brother's death? What kind of logic was that? It was sheer nonsense.
She glared at Liu Xinyou, observing her serious demeanor. If she disliked something, then let her dislike it; her love had long since become a tribute to familial bonds.
She looked at Lan Yixuan, gazing deeply into his eyes before curving her lips into a gentle smile. In this lifetime, she would never allow herself to fall for anyone.
Feelings were but shackles.
"Remember my words: do not fall in love with any man."
Liu Xinyou continued her admonition, then turned to the incredulous Ye Wujing. "From now on, we shall have nothing to do with one another."
"Master."
Night Wujin gazed at the silhouette of Xuan Yue, his vision blurred with blood, and a deep concern emerged within him. He sighed, "Xuan'er, if you love her, do not continue to entangle yourself with her."
He patted Lan Yixuan's shoulder, his steps heavy. Lan Yixuan watched Xuan Yue's departing figure, a smile involuntarily gracing his lips, his eyes shimmering with tenderness. Suddenly, he turned around and declared, "Master, she will be mine."
Night Wujin halted, eyeing the confidently resolute Lan Yixuan. "I do not wish for you to share my fate, to be consumed by hatred for the woman you love for a lifetime."
Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần
-- Xếp hạng
Quyền lực 
-- Đá
Quyền lực