Chapter 413: Chapter 413

413: Chapter 400: He’s Not Someone You Can Hurt 413: Chapter 400: He’s Not Someone You Can Hurt This woman had a slender body, slightly emaciated.

From this angle, Baili An couldn’t clearly see the woman’s face, only glimpsing her delicate neck, occasionally visible through her soft long hair, as clear and pale as porcelain.

And within the rustling sleeves, that right hand marred with scars…

Cold strands of hair carrying a hint of the night’s chill lightly brushed Baili An’s cheeks.

The temperature was very cool, yet extremely soft and tender.

For some reason, Baili An suddenly felt saddened, his fingertips tightening with an uncomfortable twinge in his heart.

The small sword slipped into his sleeve as if possessed…

He reached out his hand towards that figure.

His fingertips had not yet touched her when, in the scattering of the wind, as if across an age of silent years, she slowly turned her half face.

That side of her face, under the backlight of the silver butterfly, possessed an indescribable tranquility and sanctity.

Yet, in her deep black eyes, reflecting his figure in an instant, there seemed to flare a barely concealed turmoil, her gaze obscure and intense as embers smoldering in ashes.

She looked at the hand reaching toward her, a faint warmth flickering in her cold eyes.

The woman’s lips moved slightly as if she wanted to say something, but soon she felt an icy and indifferent gaze.

Her light-colored lips gently pursed, and she ultimately lost her words.

Thus, the holy serenity previously perceived in her countenance gained a hint more of desolation.

With eyelashes soft as downcast, her gaze avoided his hand and expressionlessly glanced at the Female Demon Lord.

She casually released a Sword Butterfly, gently landing it on his shoulder, bringing Baili An an irresistible force that pushed him far into the distance.

The empty hand ultimately grasped nothing.

Baili An’s body continued to fall toward the Abyss, his heart also seemingly endlessly plummeting.

He furrowed his brows in confusion, his chaotic thoughts making him forget the roaring wind beside his ears.

The face growing farther from him was unmistakably Yun Rong’s.

However, beneath this identical exterior, he seemed to see a restless soul bound for eternity.

“What are you doing?!”

He watched the profusion of deep red blooming on her shoulder, the blood quickly turning black, like flowing Poison Liquid permeating flesh and bone, and Xing Wu’s murderous intent in his eyes abruptly dispersed.

But he erupted in rage, his expression growing crazier, “What stupidity is this?

I was one step away from killing her!”

A giant Blood Beast appeared out of nowhere in this void, the wingless creature somehow floating steadily in the absence with both of them aboard.

Her gaze shifted slowly from the direction of Baili An’s disappearance, looking at him earnestly with those unfathomable black eyes, “Yes, you almost killed him.”

Unlike Xing Wu’s furious bellow, her tone was low and calm.

But Xing Wu stiffened all over.

Because he clearly understood, at this moment, her fury was no less than his own.

She was angry, very angry.

The anger on Xing Wu’s face gradually cleared entirely, and he threw Wanye into the Blood Beast’s mouth to be swallowed.

He sighed resignedly, his tone gradually softening, “Wanye is an Ancient cursed demon blade, its Sword Energy can erode the spiritual vein.

If not promptly extracted, it could pose a grave threat.”

She remained unmoved, her gaze serene as she watched him.

Xing Wu slowly exhaled a turbid breath, using the cursed demon blade had placed an immense burden on him, and now a faint deathly intent started to appear on his pale face.

He covered his mouth as he coughed lightly, saying with complex expression, “You know, I wouldn’t kill him, we had an agreement.”

She gave his face a glance, not continuing the topic, and instead spoke, “Since entering Ghost Mountain, you were first injured by Baiye Luoxu of the small Kunlun, then you fiercely fought with Si He; seemingly an easy win, yet her Poison Butterfly has already invaded your Demon Prison, eroding your true form.

This Blood Beast is already rotting from the inside and can no longer repair your body; are you trying to die by forcefully taking the blade to kill her?”

“Indeed, nothing escapes your eyes,” Xing Wu, letting his hand fall from his mouth, now covered in black blood.

He gazed at the black blood in his palm, a crazy glimmer twisting alight in his eyes, “What’s so frightening about death?

We’ve both experienced every torment more fearful than death.

The real terror is letting that monster continue to live in this world.”

Xing Wu looked up, his eyes seething with a desolate, scorched hatred.

“Before she’s fully revived, she’s already begun showing her fangs to this world, spinning webs, taking joy in hunting all beings.

She is a demon only pleased by death and despair—I don’t believe at the moment you saw her that you didn’t wish her dead.”

She looked at him, affirming, “I wish her dead.”

Her glory, dignity, beliefs, all had been trampled into dust and fragmented by that demon.

She disliked killing and was weary of hatred, but, if possible, she would willingly fall into a curse, wishing all malicious annihilation in the world could stem from her, letting her descend eternally into corruption.

She hated her more than anyone else in the world.

“But I’d rather not see him hurt,” her black eyes smoothed out all ripples, leaving only calmness.

She said, “Especially not wanting him to be hurt by you, even though I know you would not actually kill him due to our agreement.”

Xing Wu stared at her intently, his fists slowly clenching in his sleeves.

She gathered her cloak, covering the miserable wound on her shoulder, and gently spoke with closed eyes, “Xing Wu, your hands have already been stained with too much blood; to you, the whole world is eligible for slaughter.

Perhaps, when the moment becomes utterly unavoidable, in order to achieve your purpose, you might even kill me, since after all, you are a person who could brutally harm or kill even yourself.

Yet even so, I don’t blame you, but I don’t permit your hands to be stained with even a trace of his blood.”

She was utterly serious, her tone even carrying the chill of autumn’s slaughter, “Hear my words clearly; I don’t allow it at all.”

“Even if it disrupts our plans, he is not one you can harm.”

In the face of this subtly threatening rhetoric, Xing Wu did not react in anger.

Instead, after a long silence, he slowly responded, “I understand.”

Abyss Ruins, silent and still.

Si Li hadn’t felt her consciousness as fuzzy and unstable, wavering between wakefulness and sleep, as she did now since long ago—half-awake yet feeling unbearably cold.

This coldness was not from the outside but seemed to emanate from deep inside her bones, freezing the immense void within her heart.

This feeling was exceedingly similar to experiencing death once more.

Strangely, she felt no fear from this familiar sensation of death, even finding a trace of comfort in it.

Her sensory perception gradually sharpened, the clear, peaceful sound of flowing water drifted past her ears, peaceful enough to inadvertently provide a sense of unique comfort and exhaustion.