Chapter 430: Chapter 430

430: Chapter 417: Master is My Medicine 430: Chapter 417: Master is My Medicine Fang Geyu knew that the heart of the spiritual vein of this mountain was right here in the Cold Spring, which was one of the treasures hidden by the Tianxi Sword Sect.

Normally, the Five-direction Spiritual Beasts guarded the spring and rested upon it, and the spring was rarely opened unless the Sect Master was severely injured and needed healing.

However, at this moment, the witch named Arao was soaking in the Cold Spring in this sacred land of Tianxi.

She had sustained severe injuries, yet they were far from life-threatening.

But the new master of Tianxi did not hesitate to break the rules by placing her in this spring, indicating the level of importance he placed on her.

On the cold azure stone, a set of neatly folded women’s clothing and stockings rested.

The clear spring meandered, the water pristine.

The witch, bereft of clothing, lay sensuously elongated between the jade stones of the spring.

Her eyes, cat-like and slightly closed, lay half-concealed.

Her slender jade arms weakly sprawled on the cold stone, her lightly curled hair from the moistening spring entangled around her bare shoulders and arms, exuding an indescribable charm.

Accompanied by the pain from her injuries, a gentle moan hummed from those delicate, soft lips, sounding enchantingly seductive, inevitably leading one’s thoughts astray.

Fang Geyu suspected she was deliberately enticing someone.

For she was not alone in this Cold Spring.

He saw on the chilly spring shore, amidst dangling willows, a young Sword Master dressed in new garments of green and white.

He sat on the ground leaning against a tree, his eyes covered with a green silk cloth, with a Blackwood Ancient Zither across his lap.

His fingers strummed the strings, the broad fabric of his garment spread on the green rock, with the hem inadvertently soaking in the cold spring, darkening with moisture.

The ethereal and melodious sound of the zither, accompanied by the natural spring water, resonated with a sense of distant green mountains and the wind beneath the trees.

Tianxi Sword Sect’s Bai Tuo Mountain was one of the famed peaks in the Mortal World, its spiritual vein nourishing mankind, filled with miraculous wonders.

Yet, Arao was not human; she was a demon.

Although demons also relied on Spiritual Power for cultivation, the exceedingly pure power of a spiritual vein was too much for them, potentially purifying the Demon Body, which could be life-threatening.

The Blackwood Ancient Zither came from the Central Netherworld, a precious treasure from the treasury of the You Dynasty, named the Vermilion Bird Zither.

The Vermilion Bird, originally a demon, later submitted to the Taiyin Emperor and was transformed into a National Guardian Beast.

Named after the Vermilion Bird, the zither naturally possessed the power to neutralize the purifying effects of the Spiritual Spring, allowing his disciple to focus on healing.

Regrettably, Fang Geyu could tell that this man, sitting meticulously here, meant that his restless young disciple would likely find it even harder to concentrate on healing.

If he were to remove the silk cloth covering his eyes at this moment, he would see her eyes, brimming with desire, containing his reflection, with nothing else between heaven and earth.

In places he couldn’t see, those eyes barely concealed their thoughts, shining brightly one moment and dimming the next, blazing like fire.

That was certainly not the look of an ordinary disciple towards her teacher…

The sound of the zither suddenly stopped.

The birds that had come to nest and listen were satisfied and left with the distinctive cold fragrance of the clear spring.

The witch, Arao, gazed boldly and overtly at the calm and dignified man, her voice coming out feebly from her lips, “Master?”

Hearing this single call, let alone any man, even Fang Geyu could not sense any unusual emotional affection.

It proved the saying “The Demon Clan is naturally deceptive,” as the tender ‘Master’ was filled with apparent adoration.

The man hummed a response quietly.

“Did your zither playing disturb you, Disciple?” her voice cautious and self-reproaching.

“Does it hurt much?” the man in green and white asked softly, his hand pressing on the strings.

“Master, I am afraid of the pain~” the seductive voice of the witch softly wrapped around, with a hint of a cry in her nasal tone.

Yet her eyes were full of a pampered and proud smile.

The injury was real, but the fear of pain was not.

The young man sighed in resignation, as if accustomed to her feigned innocence and pitiful acts, yet he still could not help but feel tender-hearted towards her.

Removing the long zither from his lap, he raised his hand toward the pool.

His probing fingertips stopped just short when feeling her breath draw near.

Soon his hand was cradled by a soft, moist palm; she guided his hand slowly onto her smooth shoulder.

The silk cloth covering his eyes fluttered in the wind.

The skin beneath his fingertips was slick and soft from the spring water, a pity that her teacher, in his upright and clear-mindedness, did not entertain any surplus thoughts.

His fingers glided lightly down from her shoulder, brushing through her long hair, touching the startling red, bone-deep wound on her back.

The slender, delicate body seemed as if it had been cleaved by a heavy axe, a ghastly gash running from her shoulder down past her waist, with the remaining skin also not spared, scarred with countless sharp cuts.

The clear spring water beneath her had already reflected a shallow hue of red.

His unwavering fingertips, upon touching the tempting skin, trembled involuntarily when they encountered those wounds.

He suddenly blamed himself, “I am not skilled in healing techniques.”

The witch, Arao, intoxicated by his touch, could not help but squint her eyes, filled with an indescribable yearning, hardly caring about such trivial things, “Master treats me very well, and that is the best medicine for Arao in this world.”

“Always talking nonsense,” his fingertips gently touched, diffusing a faint Light Spell, he truly was not adept at healing, yet the marks he wiped still remained, though the pain miraculously vanished.

Under his fingertips, the witch was initially startled, then quickly realized what he had done, regret overwhelming her, she called out urgently, “Master!”

It was clearly a Concealing Spell, transferring her pain to his body.

How could this be acceptable?

She merely wanted to act spoiled towards him, not to make him suffer for her.

Her arms braced against the stone, as she was about to rise.

“If you disobey and move about, tearing your wounds, I will no longer waste my strength accompanying you; you can heal yourself in this spring,” he said indifferently, making her eyes suddenly brim with tears, now truly crying.

The man’s fingers wiped across the countless large and small scars on her back, truly fearing she might feel pain, leaving no minor wound untouched.

A thin layer of sweat formed on her snow-white skin, with dark hair sticking to her body.

She had done nothing, yet had lost all her strength, lying on the green stone and softly gasping for air, her cheeks flushed with a light tint of red, her fingers on the stone surface loosened and tightened, relaxed and tensed.

“Your wings can still be unfurled,” clearing away her full body’s pain, his fingers tentatively touched the light golden pattern beneath her shoulder blades, hiding a beautiful pair of wings.

Once folded in the mud, they had been taken and nourished by him.

But in this great battle between the righteous and the demonic forces, to aid him in rescuing a Tianxi team trapped in Jiu Jian Valley, she flew tirelessly for ten days through the thorny valley, eventually breaking the barrier set by the demons and saving the trapped team, yet her wings were pierced and torn by the stony formations arranged by the demons beforehand.

The man lowered his face, his expression slightly dimmed.

It was his fault; he had not protected her thoroughly enough.

The witch, Arao, was adept at seizing opportunities, “If Master would allow Arao to rest on your lap to heal, she could unfurl her wings fully for Master to see.”

The young man furrowed his brows, “You have yet to dress properly; to rest on your teacher’s lap, how is that proper?”

Hearing these words, Fang Geyu was so shocked he nearly lost his soul.

So wearing clothes meant she could casually rest on your lap?

This is not how one should foster a disciple, Master!