Isoro looked at the table broken in two on the ground and listened to what he considered to be a sincere compliment.
For the first time, I realized that ironic remarks could actually be delivered in such a unique and edgy way.
He truly is the peerless young master who could split Mount Huangshan with one hand.
Thinking of this, Ishiro's admiring gaze once again fell upon Leng Wushuang.
The boss's room was surprisingly tidy.
The floors and furniture were spotless.
Near the window, a tinkling wind chime hangs. It vibrates slightly as people walk by in the corridor.
Isoro skipped and hopped around, playing with the wind chimes for a bit, then pounced onto the big bed.
Wow, what a huge bed!
It was indeed a very large bed, taking up most of the room. A thick mattress was laid on the bed, and a bright red peony embroidered quilt was spread out on the bed.
Isoro's eyes lit up as he rushed over, grabbed the blanket, and exclaimed, "Wushuang, the blanket is actually bright red!"
Leng Wushuang crossed her arms and looked expressionlessly at Wu Shilang, who was rolling around on the bed hugging the blanket. She looked like a little kitten, hugging the big blanket and rolling back and forth, which was very cute.
A hint of a smile crept into his eyes.
“I feel like we are…” Wulang suddenly sat up, her eyebrows furrowed with affection and her eyes sparkling with a smile as she glanced coquettishly at Leng Wushuang, and said shyly, “It feels like we’re newlyweds.”
"Don't believe me? Look, look!"
She pulled back the blanket, grabbed two corners, and showed them to Leng Wushuang like a treasure.
In the candlelight, the red quilt was bathed in an ambiguous glow.
Leng Wushuang's face twitched slightly. He slowly raised his hand, reached for the sword on his back, and silently drew it. Suddenly, a flash of cold light appeared, and the large red quilt that Wushilang had torn open was instantly cleaved in two.
After the fluffy cotton fell, Igarashi saw Leng Wushou, his face frosty, holding a green sword, his lips pursed in anger, yet his eyes still held a hint of shyness.
Hmm? It doesn't seem like he's angry!
"Wushuang, are you shy?" Wushilang jumped out of bed, threw off the blanket, and jumped in front of him.
Leng Wushuang turned his face away awkwardly and said angrily, "Shut up." His ears were red and slightly translucent in the candlelight, looking very alluring.
"Really? Really?" Igoro jumped up excitedly, circling around Leng Wushuang. "You actually blushed? You really blushed..."
Leng Wushuang's face turned even redder. She turned her head away, angrily scolding, "Shut up!"
Seeing the young master's insincere rebuke, Wu Shilang was overjoyed and pounced on him with a bear hug. He was so cute; his ears were pink, his cheeks were red, and his voice was feigned indifference. It was surprising that the young master could be so shy.
Leng Wushuang frowned and shoved Wushilang aside.
A surge of true energy rose from his dantian, flowing through his limbs. Wherever the true energy reached, it brought excruciating pain and burned as if it would incinerate his internal organs.
His face gradually turned pale, and he unconsciously clutched his chest, beads of sweat sliding down his forehead.
"Wushuang, what's wrong?" Wushilang gradually noticed something was wrong, stopped his planned pounce, squatted down, and looked up at Leng Wushuang. "Your sword tribulation has flared up again?"
Leng Wushuang didn't reply to her. She staggered and leaned against the wall, moving step by step.
After finally moving to the edge of the bed, I let go of my hand and slid down onto it.
"Don't bother me, go play by yourself." Leng Wushuang leaned against the wall, listlessly circulating her internal energy. The internal energy flowed faster, and pain spread from her limbs and internal organs.
Suddenly, he felt a metallic taste in his throat and spat out a mouthful of blood.
Isoro was truly frightened at that moment.
Huddled in the corner, he dared not breathe, afraid of disturbing Leng Wushuang and disrupting his breathing.
After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Leng Wushuang's face regained its color. Although his lips were still pale and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, his tightly furrowed brows gradually relaxed.
"Wushuang, Wushuang, how are you?" Wushilang bit her finger, not daring to go over, afraid that something might happen to Leng Wushuang. She stood pitifully in the corner and asked timidly.
Leng Wushuang's eyelashes fluttered gently, then slowly opened, revealing a weary look in her eyes, and replied, "Yes, I'm fine for now."
As long as the final blow is unsuccessful, the sword tribulation will not disappear.
His attempt to force himself to endure the attack with his own internal energy will only make the next attack even more difficult to control.
Logically speaking, every master of the Unloading Sword Manor who practices the Drunken Flowing Clouds Sword would hide in a secluded place to meditate and comprehend the sword during the sword tribulation.
It may take six months, or even longer, before the transition will eventually be smooth.
Now, however, he left the manor and, in his most dangerous moment, followed Wu Shilang everywhere.
Perhaps even Leng Wushuang herself couldn't explain what kind of feelings she had for Wu Shilang. Whenever she delved deeper, she would always attribute this inexplicable feeling to her responsibility towards Wu Shilang.
"Why don't you take off your clothes and lie down on the bed?" Isoro cautiously moved closer, touching the bloodstains at the corner of his mouth with his finger. "Shall I get you some medicine?"
Leng Wushuang awkwardly turned her head away, dodging her fingers, and replied unnaturally, "No need."
Then he tore off half of a bright red quilt and threw it on the ground.
Upon seeing this, Isoro shouted, "No, you can't sleep on the floor! You're so weak!"
Leng Wushuang raised an eyebrow, made a loose fist, put it to her mouth, and pretended to cough lightly, saying, "It wasn't me who was sleeping in the first place."
Isoro was immediately embarrassed and tentatively asked him, "If you're not sleeping here, then should I be the one to sleep?" His tone revealed great uncertainty.
Tears welled up in my eyes. No matter how tough I am, I'm still a beautiful young woman, okay?
How can this person have no chivalry or respect for women at all?
"Hmm." Young Master Wushuang was very tired and didn't say a word. He threw down half a quilt and fell asleep immediately.
He actually stopped caring about Isoro.
Isoro looked at the half-buried quilt on the ground, squatted down, and buried his head in his hands, deep in thought.
The floor is so hard, the blanket is so small, and the weather is so cold; I'll definitely freeze to death in the middle of the night.
This is so unfair! Why should I, a woman, have to sleep on the floor?!
There was only one large bed in the room, and Leng Wushuang took up a small portion of it, leaving quite a bit of space. Hmm? Half a bed? Suddenly, Wushilang had a flash of inspiration and was immediately filled with sweetness.
He did indeed leave half of the bed for himself.
"Ugh," Wulang picked up half a quilt from the ground, nudged Leng Wushuang with her finger, and said with a mix of shyness and anger, "Don't you know that men and women shouldn't touch each other?"
Enraged by her outburst, the young master, facing the bed, stood stiffly, the veins on his forehead throbbing. He clenched and unclenched his fists before finally suppressing the urge to throw her away.
He silently closed his eyes and remained silent, continuing to play the role of a sleeping handsome man.
After hesitating for a while, Isoro finally made his final choice between the cold ground and the warm bed.
Then, I tiptoed into bed and went to sleep.
Before long, it started snoring and smacking its lips.
Intermittent grinding sounds could be heard in waves.
Unable to bear it any longer, Leng Wushuang turned around and simply piled all the blankets she was wearing on Leng Wushuang's head on her head.
This woman is so noisy.
When he woke up the next day, Isoro was wrapped in two and a half quilts, his body half-hanging, clinging to Leng Wushuang.
His shirt was open, revealing glimpses of his fair and lean chest. Isoro's face was pressed tightly against it, and when he woke up, he reflexively rubbed his cheek against it, his mouth full of saliva, making his chest glisten.
Leng Wushuang's veins bulged as he slapped her face away, glaring angrily at her with her two large dark circles under her eyes.
"Ah, Musou, why are your eyes dark?" Igoro asked curiously.
Leng Wushuang's chill intensified, her starry eyes filled with anger. Seeing that she was fully awake, she reached out and pushed away the thighs that Wushilang had wrapped around her waist, silently fastening the collar that Wushilang had torn open during the night.
I can't believe I was able to put up with her for an entire night.
She grinds her teeth, snores, and drools constantly. The scariest thing is that she'll suddenly pounce on you at night, laughing wildly, making your scalp tingle.
How could this kind of woman possibly be my other half?!
The Spirit Rhinoceros Sword has definitely chosen the wrong master.
"Get out of the way."
With a shove of his large hand, Isoro dangled off the edge of the bed, staring at him pitifully.
"I'll give you the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. Pack your things and come with me."
Leng Wushuang said coldly, fastened the sword on his back, and walked out without looking back.
Isoro was slightly taken aback, but quickly realized what was happening. He picked up his bundle and followed them out. The area outside was deserted; there wasn't a carriage, not even a horse.
"Wushuang, where are our horses?"
"No!"
With no future in sight, he didn't even hire a carriage.
Such a chivalrous person is far too shabby.
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In the backyard of the Duan residence, by the pond, sat Duan Shuixian, the eldest young master, admiring his reflection in the water, his gaze captivating. He sighed as he looked at himself. He had been wearing the same black clothes for a week straight, and the two small white jade swords at his waist hung limply at his sides, as dejected as their master.
He rested his chin on his hands, looking at the pond with a worried expression.
Behind him was a group of servants with even more worried expressions.
"Why am I still ranked third in this year's martial arts chronicle?" he asked through gritted teeth.
The servant behind him covered his mouth and lowered his head in horror.
Here it comes again, the young master's endless questions have begun!
"I've been forcing myself to wear black for so long, haven't the writers of the martial arts chronicles noticed that I'm more outstanding than Leng Wushuang?"
No one dared to answer him.
Ever since the Sword Appraisal Tournament, the young master has been wearing black clothes every day and holding a bronze mirror, looking at Leng Wushuang's portrait.
"Young Master, Coco might be..." The guard in blue stammered behind him, "...yes, yes, yes...because..."
"Why?"
"Because the young master is mostly at home, he didn't go on any parades or flower displays this week, nor did he put on a show by the window of his own teahouse. Most of the masters who write about the martial arts world haven't witnessed your extraordinary demeanor."
Huh? Is that how it is?