Chapter 456: Chapter 456

456: Chapter 452: Baili Ming’an, styled Zangjian 456: Chapter 452: Baili Ming’an, styled Zangjian Seeing him , Arao’s cold and desolate eyes began to blur dangerously.

Her breathing grew heavier, and she whispered, “Master has misunderstood again; Arao isn’t acting out of spite.

I have been patient for a long time, not acting on impulse.

My attachment to Master has been long-standing and hopeless, beyond any remedy or solution.”

She was like a dangerously seductive vine, giving him no escape as she entangled him tightly.

“I am not a deity free of desires.”

Suddenly, she stretched out her hand, pressing his palm against the flowers on the side of his cheek, their fingers intertwining.

Her dark, night-colored pupils were filled with a terrifyingly intense emotion.

She was utterly serious, fearlessly stating without any way to turn back, “Master.”

“I can’t wait any longer.”

She wrapped around him so tightly, like a fish that couldn’t leave the water, with a will to devour him that was so strong it was terrifying.

He blankly widened his eyes, unable to speak.

And Arao didn’t plan to give him another chance to speak; at this point, she didn’t want to gradually boil the frog in warm water.

She was always obsessively crazy, especially now that she feared yet yearned to devour her master.

Why not just go through with it, no holding back?

The wind that came from the distant mountains made the forest violently rustle, with the tree shadows swaying like wronged spirits in the chaotic night.

It was as if the eternally calm and desolate sky was emitting its last dying cry of fury.

Thunder and lightning tore through the long night.

Dark clouds loomed overhead, and lightning thundered, the once fallen and extinguished stars shone brightly all at once, the surging Star River like a Silver Dragon suspended in the sky, silently condemning the disrespect of this last Demon Lord.

She was the ruler of the Demon World.

He was a deity of Heaven.

He, her honorable master.

That unchangeable relationship of life and death had been cruelly ripped apart by her own hands.

He blankly widened his eyes, watching as the stars brightened then helplessly dimmed in the sky, feeling as if something steadfast inside him was also being extinguished.

It shouldn’t have been …

“Master, I love you.” She cherished the warmth of his body.

She had received his precious first time.

She had never had a moment, like now, when she truly possessed him.

She was a demon, having overstepped her bounds and profaned her celestial master, and she felt extremely guilty in her heart.

But what could she do?

She still wanted to continue to tarnish him, to leave her marks on both his body and soul!

She knew this was a sick, obsessive love, doomed to receive no reciprocation.

Yet, she still wanted to thoroughly consume her master, inside and out, regardless of if it was bloody, withering, or cruel; it would still make her immensely happy.

Fang Geyu looked at the Empress in the ice coffin, and Yun Rong’s complexion was indescribably terrifying and cold.

She had never seen that carefree, cloud-like sword-mad girl with such a sharp, knife-like gaze.

Her beautiful eyes were red with anger.

It looked like, if she could get out, she would likely wish to flay that rebellious disciple alive immediately!

Fang Geyu felt very tired, and he found this state of Yun Rong quite pitiable.

Her affections had just begun to bloom when her husband belonged to another.

If she had known this day would come, why bother in the first place?

Arao, paying no attention to that gaze, clasped her hands around his neck, watching as her master’s dark eyelashes trembled, and whispered by his ear, “Doesn’t it hurt, Master, holding back ?”

His expression, already tightly closed, flushed further with her shamelessly teasing words.

She smiled triumphantly, not looking like the tyrannical Demon Lord at all but rather more like a cheeky little cat stealing cream, her voice soft, “Master, it hurts a lot.”

He finally couldn’t endure her increasingly presumptuous words and, opening his eyes, glared at her; his breath was disordered, and his ears were a shameful red, “If it hurts, then roll down yourself!”

Arao chuckled lightly, biting his earlobe, behaving quite roguishly, “I’m not going down, Master has caught a chill, better just to stay still.

He seemed completely dominated by this rebellious disciple, a sensation that was unbearably thrilling.

Arao’s black hair danced wildly, her long eyes narrowed in pleasure, a slight blush spreading across her delicate, seductive face under the moonlit night.

Yun Rong, separated by the thick ice coffin, had a ghastly pale, nearly broken demeanor.

Her fingers scraped shallow white marks on the thick ice, feeling suddenly dizzy with intense tightness in her chest, unable to exhale the trapped breath.

When she opened her mouth, what burst forth was uncontrollable crimson blood, dotting the frost with splatters.

A pain that couldn’t be explained spread from the bottom of her heart.

At this moment, she felt as if her unbroken Sword Heart from a millennium began to crumble inch by inch.

Yun Rong seemed dazed with agony, pain written across her face, her eyebrows tightly furrowed, then slowly her palm clutched at her chest, her lips and teeth tasting bloody sweetness.

Her Sword Heart Clarity had shattered.

Sword Master, always strict and often in seclusion in the mountains, felt deeply disgusted today with being controlled by desire, almost drowning in overwhelming shame.

Stimulated to the extent that his teeth chattered, he angrily denounced her self-indulgent fall into depravity: “Disaster!

Who taught you all this nonsense!

Uh… wretched disciple!”

As he was scolding, his eyes caught a glimpse of a streak of blood.

A chill ran through his heart, and he looked towards Yun Rong only to see among the crimson blood, her pained and pale face.

The starlight in her eyes was dimming.

“Senior Sister…” His hand weakly reached out toward her, then realizing how disgraceful his current appearance was, he let his hand fall powerlessly back among the flowers, his eyes turning red, “Don’t look, Senior Sister…”

Yun Rong obediently, with tearful eyes, slowly crouched down, burying her face in her knees, imprisoned in a narrow world.

Indeed, in this world of apocalyptic destruction, even gods could not escape their fate.

His eyes reddened from strain, his palm harshly scraped over sharp thorns, blood beads scattering wildly; the pain restored some strength to his arm, and he suddenly embraced Arao’s soft waist, biting her smooth shoulder in retaliation, blood flowing, he gasped, “Don’t move, the feeling… it’s too strange, too painful… stop moving.”

Arao was delightfully surprised by this initiative and embrace; she whispered into his ear, “Sword Master…”