His fingernails,
began to scrape against the coffin lid,
once, twice, and again,
as if he might co out at any mont.
......
On the city wall, Fanli was walking atop, inspecting the repairs of the wall, while the sword maid sat steadily on his shoulder.
"Big guy, why do I feel like you're different today?"
Born as a Sword Embryo, her sensitivity to aura is naturally extrely acute.
Fanli habitually reached behind to scratch his head and said,
"Perhaps."
"Big guy, did your strength increase?" asked the sword maid.
Fanli continued scratching his head and said,
"Perhaps."
"Why aren't you happy about your level increase?" the sword maid asked.
Fanli's gaze was directed to a certain place within the city,
showing a simple smile on his face,
he said,
"Happy."
......
Zheng Fan walked towards Xue Three step by step, Xue Three bit his lip, simply watching as his lord walked towards him, step by step.
Finally,
Zheng Fan stood before Xue Three and raised his knife.
Xue Three's mouth began to twitch, but he did not beg for rcy or scream; he just stared at Zheng Fan.
At that mont,
it beca clear,
that around Zheng Fan, black mist continuously surrounded him, which emanated from him and re-entered his mind.
This was actually a kind of "instigation,"
a large influx of negative emotions from the Mo Wan poured into Zheng Fan's Sea of Consciousness,
like your fair-weather friend egging you on when sothing happens.
This tense atmosphere did not last long,
and there were no prolonged emotional upheavals or forebodings,
there was no wailing or pleading,
besides,
the weather today was already a bit stifling,
people were generally weary of nagging and drawn-out matters.
The knife in Zheng Fan's hand,
aid at Xue Three,
stabbed down!
"Buzz!"
Xue Three closed his eyes,
his mouth opened wide,
a scream did not escape.
When he slowly opened his eyes,
he found that the knife had indeed fallen, aid at him, piercing into the ground, but the point of penetration was at his hip, only perhaps a centiter from his leg, yet it did not actually pierce his body.
"Ha......heh......hoo hoo......hoo hoo......"
Xue Three began to breathe heavily.
At this mont,
he finally spoke again,
"My lord, I was wrong, it's my fault, thank you my lord..."
Zheng Fan did not listen to Xue Three's words,
when his hand left the knife handle,
he gave it a pull to the side.
The knife stuck in the tile rebounded due to inertia,
slapping Xue Three's leg just right;
"Slap!"
"Ahhh!!!!!!"
Then,
the knife continued to sway, the inertia not yet dissipated.
"Slap!"
"Ah!"
"Slap!"
"Ah!"
"Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!"
"Ahhhhhh..."
Xue Three's face contorted in pain, so much so that when the blade finally stopped swaying, his mouth was already foaming at the corners.
Zheng Fan turned around,
the black mist around him suddenly grew thicker, as if not done, as if unsatisfied.
But along with Zheng Fan's angry shout:
"Get down here now!"
The black mist continued to swirl and boil; clearly, patriarchy held no sway here.
"If you don't get down I'll kill myself first!"
"Swoosh!"
The black mist swiftly retreated from Zheng Fan, re-entering that stone.
Zheng Fan walked to the shattered water tank, picked up the towel he had used to wipe himself during knife practice, and began to wipe his body again slowly.
Once he had finished,
Zheng Fan returned, crouching before Xue Three.
Xue Three, having just recovered from his convulsions, opened his eyes, looking at Zheng Fan with so weakness and grievance.
Zheng Fan sighed,
raised his hand,
and used the towel to wipe Xue Three's face, wiping away the blood and dirt, doing so gently and ticulously;
anwhile,
in a slightly pained tone, he said,
"Don't be so naughty next ti, look at how dirty your face is, be good, okay?"
————
Goodnight, sweet dreams.
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