Yan Wushi had wanted to say something, but he heard begin to murmur about yet another dream, and suddenly uttered two words: “Xie Ling...”
The words startled him. Suddenly, a strange mercilessness rose up from within him, as though a mask had been suddenly split open.
And—so quickly—dozens of emotions flashed across his face—some that were brutal, others disaffected, and some even gentle. It was as though countless different faces were fighting one another at the same time to take control, the sight of which would have left someone trembling in fear.
The true qi within his body had begun to surge chaotically within him. It was so much like all of those times before, when he had nearly entered qi deviation—this was but a symptom of what was to come. Yan Wushi suddenly shut his eyes!
After a long moment, he opened them. He extended one hand to slowly stroke Shen Qiao’s face, before meandering further down, so as to support the back of his neck and draw him upwards. And then, he bent down to take every word of his soft, incessant murmurs into his mouth.
