"Oh? You're going back to apologize?" The cool voice was like an icy snake crawling across Isoro's eardrums, making her shiver involuntarily.
She turned around hastily, froze for a moment, then was overwhelmed with joy, her lips trembling as she uttered, "Wushuang..."
"Do I look like that oaf?" The newcomer said with disdain, his face full of contempt. "Tsk tsk, only a tasteless woman like you would be interested in him."
Isn't he unparalleled?!
Isoro stared, taking a step back without making a sound. He was indeed not Wushuang. Wushuang would not wear such a snow-white robe, and Wushuang's eyes were not as vicious. Although he had the same vicious mouth as Wushuang, the words that came out of his mouth were not as pleasant to hear as those that came out of Wushuang's mouth.
"You are not Leng Wushuang!"
“Yes.” The boy leaning against the wall grinned, revealing an indescribable chill. “I’m not that good-for-nothing.” He stretched out his finger, picked up a small stone, and flicked it lightly, sending it flying toward Ishiro.
"But I cherish everything he cares about."
The stone veered and struck the back of Isoro's head. Her vision went black immediately, and her body slumped limply. The white-clad youth reached out and tucked her under his arm, easily sweeping her away.
"Who are you, abandoning Miss Xiao?" A black figure swept in from afar, landing in front of the white-robed youth with a few quick steps, like a large bird spreading its black wings.
"Huh? This woman's surname is Xiao?" He looked amused, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You fly very beautifully."
Qi Wu's face turned cold, and he slowly drew his sword.
"But I don't like it when someone does something better than me in front of me." The white-robed youth's smile turned serious. He threw down Goruro, drew a pair of mandarin duck scimitars from his waist, and with a swift movement, he spun around like a blooming white lotus.
Before Qi Wu could even see him, his feet were already burning with pain.
Fresh blood slowly flowed from his ankles, dripping onto the ground, dark red and black. He finally couldn't hold back any longer and collapsed in terror.
"This is really boring," the white-robed youth said with a bored expression. "You didn't even fight back." He waved his hand dismissively. "I'm in a good mood today, so I'll spare your life. However, you won't be able to jump around like that anymore."
He proudly raised his head, revealing a pure smile like a white lotus, like a child who had never seen the world. "Your foot, I severed the Achilles tendon," he wrinkled his nose and continued mischievously, "However, there is something in this world called bone-healing ointment. I, the palace master, have always hated things that don't work out, so to prevent you from using the bone-healing ointment, I poisoned it. Hmm, it will probably make your foot unable to walk from now on."
He spoke of it so casually, as if he had just played a very interesting game.
Completely ignoring the terrified look on the five riders on the ground, he then politely waved his hand and said, "I'm taking this woman with me. Once I'm done with her, I'll naturally return her to your young master."
He bent down, picked up the unconscious Wu Shilang, and easily leaped onto a corner of a house. Suddenly, he stopped and turned back as if he remembered something. He said, "By the way, if your young master asks, please tell him." He looked down with a smile and saw a pale purple figure rushing towards him not far away. He raised his voice and smiled, "My name is Leng Wuqing, the master of Baochan Palace."
As they spoke, the pale purple figure followed closely behind.
"Leave Fifty behind." It was indeed Young Master Luo who arrived, looking tense. When he saw Fifty in his hand, his eyes were filled with regret. He stood with his sword in hand, his angry eyes turning slightly as he glanced at the injured Fifty on the ground. His eyes surged with anger, and he gritted his teeth with deep regret, saying, "You hurt my man. If you leave Fifty behind, I will leave you with a whole corpse."
As he spoke, he had already lifted his robe and drawn his sword, charging towards them with a furious expression.
"Huh? You're pretty good." The white-robed youth, carrying Wu Shilang, dodged repeatedly, becoming increasingly strained. Several times, Luo Jinfeng's sword grazed the hem of his clothes and slipped past him.
"Leave fifty, and I'll give you a whole corpse." The silver light was sharp and cold, rushing straight towards the white-robed youth.
The white-clad youth's face finally turned serious. Holding the Mandarin Duck Curved Blades in one hand, he fought Luo Jinfeng like two blooming flowers.
The weapons clashed, producing a resounding clang.
"Hey, you're quite pretty, but I didn't expect you to be so skilled." The white-clad youth barely dodged a sword strike, and, unable to stand steadily, he casually blocked Wu Shilang's attack. "Your sword dance is quite beautiful."
Luo Jinfeng was shocked and withdrew his sword. The white-robed youth immediately seized the opportunity, spun around, and was about to rush away.
"You're courting death." Luo Jinfeng narrowed his eyes and saw the white-robed youth dash away dozens of steps away. Enraged, he flipped his palm and sent a sword flying.
The sword, with its sharp edge, pierced the air and plunged straight into the white-robed youth's shoulder and arm.
A bright red halo of blood slowly spread out. Despite the pain in his shoulder, he didn't hesitate and, with his sword, flew out with a few quick taps on the ground.
Luo Jinfeng hadn't expected him to be so tough.
Greatly alarmed, they went to chase after him, but he had already disappeared without a trace.
The boy in white carried Isoro across a town in one breath, running all the way to the Yue Lao Shrine on the outskirts of town, where they finally couldn't hold on any longer and landed.
"Brother, you've made me sore all over." Wu Shilang's eyes sparkled as he looked up at him from under his armpit with a smile, showing no sign of waking up yet.
"When did you wake up?" The boy in white gasped for breath, crimson blood seeping down his white clothes and onto his chest.
He casually tossed Isoro, who had been acupunctured, onto the ground.
Following the momentum, Isoro rolled ten times before stopping, his whole body stiff. He said, "Release my pressure points first, then I'll help you remove your sword and heal your wounds."
The young man in white smiled, glanced at her sideways, and replied lightly, "Sure, I'm still more than capable of dealing with you anyway."
He didn't reach out, but waved his finger in mid-air.
Wu Shilang immediately felt numbness in her acupoints. As soon as the acupoints were released, she felt weak in her limbs and struggled to sit up from the ground.
"Come here and help me pull out my sword." The white-robed youth clutched his shoulder, his pale face devoid of color. He barely managed to pull out two bottles of medicine from his robes, one red and one white, and said, "The white one is for external application, and the red one is to be diluted with water and taken internally. You serve me this, and don't try anything funny, or I'll make you wish you were dead." He spoke with great ferocity, yet a smile still played on his lips.
Isoro suddenly froze on the spot.
His gaze was indifferent, much like Wushuang's. His handsome face had the same eyebrows and eyes as Wushuang's. Although he was smiling, it was still obvious that he was forcing it.
"Stop laughing," Isoro crawled toward him on all fours, a pang of pain shooting through his heart. He couldn't help but say, "It hurts me to see you laugh like that. If you don't like it, don't force yourself to laugh."
The young man in white stiffened slightly, then became annoyed, turned around angrily, and laughed even more happily, "I hate self-righteous women."
Isoro rolled his eyes and replied, "Likewise, likewise, I hate women like that too."
The young man in white was taken aback by her answer and fell silent. He looked at her silently and saw that Goruro was smiling radiantly. He couldn't help but twitch his lips slightly.
"I hate you." He said it more bluntly, flicking his fingers and a cloud of pinkish-blue mist immediately spread towards Isoro.
Isoro sat on the ground, hugging his knees and looking at him innocently as the blue mist spread. Suddenly, he stood up abruptly, opened his mouth wide, and couldn't help but sneeze loudly.
The boy in white was looking at her smugly when she suddenly jumped up, startling him. The pale pink and blue hues were blown back to him by Isoro's sneeze.
"I really hate you." He swayed, his gaze suddenly froze, and he turned his head away.
He had just developed this blue-and-pink beauty, but hadn't had time to make an antidote yet. He was using it for the first time today, completely disregarding the unskilled Wu Shilang.
To everyone's surprise, it was the incompetent Isoro who blew the powder over again in one breath.
This is troublesome. Although he grew up surrounded by poisons, this Blue and Pink Beauty was specifically designed for those who use poisons. It was originally intended to deal with his other fellow disciples in the palace.
In this way, he was completely unconscious.
"Ah, you took him down so easily." Isoro was quite surprised. She reached out and poked the white-clad boy's shoulder and arm, but all she got in response was silence.
“Then I won’t stand on ceremony,” Ishiro immediately cheered, stepping over his body and intending to make a quick getaway.
She stepped on something hard, twisted her foot, and immediately felt a piercing pain.
"Damn it!" Ishiro jumped up and down, looking down to see that the two bottles of medicine for external and internal use that the white-clad boy had taken out earlier were now lying on the ground.
She couldn't help but glance at the sleeping boy again.
The sleeping boy, without a smile, had a furrowed brow, pale lips, and a slightly curled-up body. His entire back was covered in blood red. Without a smile, he resembled Wushuang.
Isoro's heart softened immediately.
She could no longer move. She lifted the hem of her clothes, squatted down, and muttered to herself, "Even though you are very strong, if you keep bleeding like this, you will probably die."
She simply couldn't bear to see someone so peerless die right before her eyes.
Gritting her teeth, she sat back down and used the curved waistband of the boy's clothes to slowly cut open his white clothes. As soon as the clothes were cut open, she immediately gasped.
The sword had pierced right through his shoulder, the flesh around the blade torn and red, sending chills down one's spine.
Gritting his teeth, Isoro rested the boy's head on his shoulder, closed his eyes, and reached out to pull out the sword that was deeply embedded in his shoulder.
The boy groaned, clenching his teeth, but remained unconscious.
Sweating profusely, Isoro exerted his strength several times, intermittently, and finally managed to pull the precious sword, embedded in his flesh and bone, out little by little.
As soon as the sword was drawn, blood gushed out from his shoulder.
It splashed all over Isoro's head and face.
Isoro immediately panicked, grabbing a handful of dirt from the ground and piling it on the white-clad boy. One handful wasn't enough, so he grabbed three or four handfuls.
After grabbing seven handfuls of soil, Zhidao suddenly remembered that he had some medicine that Zhidao had previously told him about for both external and internal use.
"Ah, should we peel it off again and apply the medicine?" Igorō was speechless, frowning and pondering over his shoulder where the bleeding had stopped.
The boy on the ground bit his lip and slowly opened his eyes. He had already woken up when she grabbed the fifth handful of dirt. He couldn't bear to see Isoro smearing mud all over himself, so he simply pretended to be dead.
"Alright, take it off and start over." Isoro clapped his hands and resolutely began to dig out the mud that was already mixed with blood.
"Don't go too far." The white-robed youth gritted his teeth, unable to force a smile anymore. If it weren't for the previous poison that had left him weak, he would have already pounced on him and strangled Goruro to death.
"Ah? You're awake?" Isoro was pleasantly surprised and patted his shoulder. The wound on his shoulder immediately turned into a waterfall, gushing out with a hissing sound.
"Ahhhh, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." Ishiro was flustered and suddenly stood up. The white-clad boy who was leaning on her immediately fell down with a thud, his head hitting the ground hard. His eyes rolled back, and he couldn't catch his breath and fainted again.
"That's good, I can wash the wound," Ishiro muttered to himself, taking out the two bottles and saying, "The red one is for external application, and the white one is for internal use mixed with water."
She poured out the pills from the red bottle, crushed them, and applied them all to the boy's injured arm. The bleeding stopped immediately.
“Yes, yes, there are white ones too,” she said, taking out the pills from the white bottle, spitting out some saliva, stirring them with her index finger, then prying open the boy’s mouth and pouring them down his throat.
Before long, the boy's aura did indeed become stronger.
Igoro stood by his side with a smile, waiting for him to wake up. In his sleep, he looked helpless, just like Leng Wushuang. The more Igoro looked at him, the happier he became. He stretched out his sleeve and carefully wiped his face.
Without realizing it, she mistook him for Leng Wushuang.
It wasn't until those bright black eyes opened that Isoro came to his senses. He guiltily rolled up his sleeves and gave him a dry laugh, saying, "I've already applied the medicine for you."
The boy's eyes were fixed on her, his expression inscrutable. "Why didn't you run away just now?"
Ishiro scratched her head and said with a wry smile, "I want to too, but I just can't bear to leave you." She really couldn't bear to leave this person who looked so much like Musou.
The boy's eyes flickered, and he asked again, "You were wiping my sweat just now?"
Isoro looked up at the sky, pretending not to hear his question, looking embarrassed.
The boy frowned, ignoring the discomfort he felt from her feigned nonchalance, and continued to grit his teeth as he asked, "How did you apply the medicine for me? Why are my hands and feet even more numb?"
Isoro spread his hands innocently and replied, "The red one is for external use, and the white one is for internal use."
"What?!" The boy's eyes widened, his teeth grinding together, his eyes practically popping out of their sockets. "You used it backwards, you idiot!"
What would happen if it was used incorrectly? Igarashi had no idea, because the white-clad youth had fainted again. A full hour later, Igarashi finally found out…
The result of using the wrong medication was that... the boy in white was completely unable to exert any strength.
Isoro had considered a million possibilities, but he never imagined it would be like this.
She was pulling a cart, and on it lay a handsome man in white, barely clothed, gazing at the sky with a mournful expression.
"I really hate you, woman."