Chapter 439: Chapter 439

439: Chapter 425: Crow’s Feet 439: Chapter 425: Crow’s Feet In front of others, those Tianxi disciples respectfully called her “Little Senior Sister”, but behind her back, they were cold and scornful, laughing and cursing at her as the abandoned blind girl of the demon clan.

Her childhood had no playmates; every time she finished her homework, if he was there, he would carry her to the canteen without any second thoughts, meticulously hand-feeding her.

At those times, the sect naturally had a group of young female disciples and male disciples seeking connections, who would crowd around her pretending to be affectionate and caring, all showing off in front of him.

But when he left for the Immortal World to attend rituals, and was gone for months, those people either avoided her like a venomous snake or, bold and malicious, bullied her because she was blind, even putting live bugs and flies in her food.

Everyone looked down on her, believing she was using the lowest life to monopolize the opportunities that others desperately sought but could not obtain.

She felt that such days were not so unbearable.

Although these people made her feel extremely disgusted.

But with him in the mountains, able to stay by her side often, that was enough.

Before long, the West Mountain canteen recruited a new batch of exceptional cooks, one of whom, a female cook, treated her very well and did not, like other opportunistic cooks, deliberately give her leftover food.

Every time she tapped her way there with her blind cane, there would always be a box of just-warm sweet and sour ribs at her spot, sprinkled with finely chopped green onions, a delicate dish that gave off a faint sense of warmth.

The cook’s surname was Shen; she had a lot of chores everyday and seldom spoke, keeping a quiet and obedient little yellow dog by her side.

When Arao came to eat, the soft little yellow dog wouldn’t go anywhere else, but would always run under her table and rub against her bare feet, begging for bones.

Later, her eyes were healed, the little yellow dog had grown into an old yellow dog, and she no longer remembered its plump and soft appearance when it was young.

But she still liked to throw it a few bones while eating.

And liked to nestle in the woodpile in the kitchen’s backyard after meals, basking in the sun with the old yellow dog in her arms.

Contrary to what she imagined, this cook, who would leave a box of sweet and sour ribs for her every day, was very plain-looking, just like an ordinary mortal woman as mentioned by the Master – spending her days clucking while feeding the chickens, and when she smiled, the crow’s feet were not at all attractive.

But she liked watching her laugh while basking in the sun.

Because every time she saw her smile, a very deep, empty place in her heart seemed to fill up.

It was not until much, much later that she learned the feeling that filled that void was called happiness.

Because she discovered the cook’s secret.

She finally understood why, in the first year of her fame as a Sect Master’s disciple, a plain but kindly cook like her appeared suddenly on Bai Tuo Mountain.

She never called her “Auntie Shen” along with others in public, only when the still of the night allowed it, claiming hunger as an excuse, braving the wind and snow to cross half the mountain to the canteen kitchen, begging her to cook noodles, would she softly call out “Mother” to the figure busily chopping and peeling garlic, her eyes reddening.

She never responded to that call, but every time, the chopping would stop for a long, long time…

Arao knew that at these moments, the woman who smiled revealing crow’s feet was surely crying.

Outside the open tent curtain, the sound of fine raindrops fell silently, bringing the mountain’s unique chill into the room.

The memories dispersing like scattered flowers ultimately became an irretrievable dream.

The demon clan woman, her features ruined beyond ordinary, collapsed with a thunderous fall, and Arao, who had been watching her numbly, seemed to awaken from a nightmare all of a sudden…

“Ah ah ah ah ah ah———————-”

Her heart-wrenching scream drew a throng of people who crowded around.

A dense crowd squeezed in, jostling and pressing into the tent.

Those who couldn’t squeeze in could only stand on their tiptoes outside, eagerly peering inside, extremely curious about the situation.

The expectant gazes of the onlookers, without doubt, were now the terrifying malice of the Mortal World.

The cultivators who pushed their way inside were surprised to see the witch Arao holding her head, curled into a ball under the bed, her eyes wide open, screaming non-stop.

But her eyes didn’t look like they belonged to someone over frightened; they were dark, tearless, lightless, seemingly imprisoning a faint and never escaping soul.

“What’s this, scared into such a state?”

“Probably got attacked right after waking up, scared out of her wits, hehe, but I really didn’t expect this ugly demon woman actually came to assassinate the Sword Master’s disciple?”

What if the Sword Master finds out you prematurely released this demon to test the girl, aren’t you afraid of being punished?”

“Why should I be afraid?

We are not disciples under the Tianxi name, and besides, the Sword Master’s disciple is unharmed, isn’t she?

If not for tonight’s surprise attack, how could we test whether she’s colluding with the demon clan?

The demons are known for their cunning; our Sword Master is one to readily show mercy and protect his own, insisting on some foolish talk about verifying the girl’s sincerity in three days.

Who knows what troubles could arise in these three days.”

“That’s right, now at least it’s clear, the girl doesn’t hesitate when she strikes, tsk tsk tsk, she stabbed right through the throat, such a miserable death, truly not leaving the slightest chance of survival; her heart’s truly fierce enough.

Now I believe that the Sword Master’s favored disciple has no involvement with the demon clan.”

“I say, how much longer are you all going to gather around and gawk?

It’s rather frightful with this corpse spread out here, hurry up and drag it away and bury it somewhere.

This face is so ugly it’ll make people lose their appetite for three days.”

“What are you crowding around for?

Just then, the Sword Master’s voice, cold and full of barely suppressed anger, came from outside.

The crowd inside the tent immediately dispersed, leaving a spacious path.

He entered the tent with a grim face and a hurried pace.

As his eyes swept over the corpse on the ground and narrowed slightly; a terrifying anger flickered within them.

Without speaking, he picked up the curled-up Arao from the ground and placed her carefully on the bed.

Sword Master, it’s , we thought about it and still feel…”

“Get out,” he uttered icily, a hint of killing intent evident.

The crowd grew cold with fear, not daring to utter another word.

They left hurriedly, pushing each other aside.

Arao on the bed was hugging her head, gasping for breath on the cold bed, her entire body convulsing violently.

This had frightened him greatly, too; he loudly called her name, yanking her to him and holding her tightly in his arms, his palms constantly soothing her back, and his voice suddenly softened, “If you want to cry, just cry.”

The frail body in his embrace trembled violently, her voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable: “Master…

do you already know?”

He hummed in affirmation.

She didn’t cry, just shivered in his embrace, fists clenched tightly between their chests, her teeth chattering, clearly terrified to the core, yet still pressing on with the instincts etched into her bones, she asked blankly, “Master, you smell of blood.

She felt she was beyond saving, irredeemably corrupt.

Why wasn’t she the one who died?