The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 139

Countless terrifying and obscene images flashed through Fang Yanqing's mind.

To make her lick his spear in front of his most beloved disciple?

Or... or should she use her hands, which had just been defiled and were used to practice the Emei sword technique, to go to that hideous behemoth that had trampled the dignity of both her and her master into mud?

Do not!

She can't do it!

Even if it meant death, she couldn't do it!

However, Wang Meng's next move once again exceeded her expectations.

He did not force her to do anything lewd.

He simply held her soft waist, maintaining his squatting position in front of Zhou Zhiruo, and then slowly spoke in a tone that was almost a sigh, tinged with pity and helplessness.

"Zhiruo, get up."

His voice was no longer the aggressive and cruel mockery it had been before; instead, it became unusually gentle, even carrying a hint of elder-like warmth and guidance.

He released Fang Yanqing, then reached out and, with a force that was both irresistible and gentle enough to make one unable to resist, grasped Zhou Zhiruo's cold little hand and gently pulled her up from the cold ground.

Zhou Zhiruo's body was like a soulless puppet, completely at his mercy.

Her empty eyes stared blankly at the man who had just been like a devil.

"I know what you saw, and I know what you're thinking."

Wang Meng looked directly into her eyes, his gaze deep and powerful, as if it could pierce through all her confusion and despair, reaching the deepest part of her soul: "You feel that your master has done something shameful behind your back, tarnishing her own reputation and shattering the idol in your heart, don't you?"

Zhou Zhiruo's lips trembled violently, and tears streamed down her face once again.

She wanted to nod, but she felt that nodding itself was the ultimate betrayal of her master.

Wang Meng didn't wait for her answer, but slowly shook his head.

You're wrong. Terribly wrong.

His voice carried a convincing and resolute power: "What you see is the 'appearance,' not the 'truth.' You only know one side of the story, not the other."

Your master wasn't acting in a cowardly way; she was... saving me, and saving you too!

"Save...me?"

Zhou Zhiruo's mind slowly picked up on those two words, and a hint of confusion finally appeared in her eyes.

Wang Meng released her hand, turned around, and faced the old locust tree with its lush branches and leaves in the yard.

"Your master said before that I have a murderous aura, right?"

Zhou Zhiruo subconsciously glanced at Fang Yanqing beside her, whose face was ashen and who was trembling all over, and then nodded hesitantly.

“She’s right, but what I possess is no longer just simple ‘killing intent’.”

Wang Meng's voice became deep and distant, as if he were telling an ancient legend that had nothing to do with him: "It is the 'evil spirit' formed by excessive killing and entangled resentment."

It is a kind of demonic influence that is tangible, capable of corrupting people's hearts and shaking the resolve of martial artists.

He extended a finger and gently, in mid-air, pointed at the perfectly intact teacup on the stone table not far away.

There was no sound, no vibration from leaking energy.

But the sturdy celadon teacup began to develop fine, spiderweb-like black cracks at a speed visible to the naked eye, starting from the rim.

In just two breaths, with a soft "pop," the entire teacup silently turned into a handful of fine black powder.

Zhou Zhiruo's pupils suddenly contracted!

She was unaware of the power of the Heavenly Wrath Heart Sutra.

They were immediately fooled by Wang Meng's performance.

"This kind of 'evil' is usually suppressed within me, so it's not a problem."

But once the thought of killing arises, the surge of emotion will uncontrollably leak out.

Wang Meng's voice echoed in her ears like a curse, "What you just saw was nothing more than your master using her pure and righteous Emei Nine Yang internal energy to guide and purify this demonic energy that even I cannot fully control."

"Guide...guide?"

Zhou Zhiruo's mind was completely captivated by the mysterious realm he described.

"good."

Wang Meng turned around and looked at the master and disciple again.

This time, his gaze fell on Fang Yanqing's bare foot, which was slightly curled up due to nervousness.

His eyes were clear and open, without a trace of lewdness. Instead, they resembled those of a healer examining a sophisticated medical instrument.

"All the meridians in the human body have acupoints."

This demonic energy is extremely yin and vile, and ordinary acupoints simply cannot bear it. Forcibly guiding it will only cause the rescuer to be devoured by the evil energy and suffer a qi deviation.

He paused, his voice becoming even deeper.

"There is only one place where the turbid qi of the human body is most abundant, yet it is also the source of the generation of yang qi. This is the 'head of the dragon vein,' which is most capable of attracting and gathering such yin evil things."

As he spoke, he pointed frankly to his lower body.

Zhou Zhiruo's face flushed red again, but this time, the redness carried a hint of understanding and realization.

"To dispel this extremely yin and filthy demonic energy, one must use the extremely strong and yang, pure and clean internal energy of the rescuer to impact and cleanse it."

"The nun's Emei Nine Yang Skill has long since reached its pinnacle."

The place where her internal energy is purest and least affected by worldly corruption is the 'Yongquan' acupoint on the sole of her foot.

This acupoint is the source of the Kidney Meridian, known as the "Phoenix Eye Spring," and is the foundation of her pure Yang internal energy.

Only by using this point, close to the root of the demonic energy, and using one's own pure Yang essence as a guide, can one slowly and meticulously 'fish out' the demonic energy within my body without harming its foundation, and then incinerate it into nothingness with the Nine Yang True Qi.

"so……"

Wang Meng's voice, like a morning bell and evening drum, struck Zhou Zhiruo's heart heavily: "What you saw was not your master using his feet... to do such a despicable thing."

Rather, she was using her most precious inner energy, risking imminent possession by demonic energy and her own death, to clear obstacles for me!

As he finished speaking, he slowly walked back to Fang Yanqing and, under her gaze filled with shock, humiliation, and a strange emotion that even she herself could not discern, gently and with a gesture full of respect, lifted her still slightly trembling jade foot.

"Zhiruo, come and see."

He displayed that foot to Zhou Zhiruo.

"Look at the soles of her feet, why are they flushed with an unusual red?"

That is a manifestation of internal force resisting, causing qi and blood to surge in reverse.

If you smell it again, why is there a faint, almost imperceptible... sweet and fishy smell in this courtyard besides the aroma of tea?

That was the turbid, foul energy transformed from the demonic energy after it was burned by the Nine Yang True Qi!

Why did she lose her composure like that just now?

And why...is there so much water flowing out?

Wang Meng lowered his voice even further, with a seductive quality as if sharing a secret: "That's nothing else, it's the waste fluid she expelled after she drew the evil energy from my body into her own, purified it with her own essence!"

"She's taking the blame for me, do you understand?!"

"boom!"

Wang Meng's last words were like a thunderclap from the heavens, completely shattering the last trace of doubt in Zhou Zhiruo's heart.

So that's how it is... So that's how it is!

No, Master... No, Master didn't... She was saving someone!

She is waging a battle between good and evil in a way that she herself cannot comprehend—a way that is both profound and dangerous!

And I... I, this ignorant and foolish disciple, actually... actually used the filthiest and most despicable thoughts to speculate about my godlike master who was sacrificing himself!

"me……"

Zhou Zhiruo opened her mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

An indescribable, overwhelming sense of shame and self-reproach, like magma, erupted from the depths of her heart and instantly engulfed her completely.

She looked at her master's pale face, saw her biting her lip, trembling all over, and tears in her eyes... In her eyes, it was no longer shame, but... but a great testament to enduring immense pain and grievance!

"master!"

With a "plop," Zhou Zhiruo knelt heavily in front of Fang Yanqing, hugged her legs, and burst into tears.

"Master! Your disciple was wrong!"

"Disciple...disciple is guilty!"

"This disciple shouldn't have doubted you! This disciple...this disciple deserves to die!"

She cried so hard she could barely breathe, wishing she could find a block of tofu and smash her head against it to die right there.

Fang Yanqing was completely stunned to be held and cried by her apprentice.

She stared blankly at Zhou Zhiruo, who was kneeling on the ground, weeping bitterly. Then she looked up and stared blankly at the man who stood with his hands behind his back, a faint smile on his face.

Her mind was still blank.

But she knew that her reputation in front of her disciple seemed to have been... seemingly preserved by this lecherous demon in a way she could never have imagined?

And the price seems to be just... a huge, absurd misunderstanding that looks like it could be exposed at any moment?

Wang Meng looked at Zhou Zhiruo kneeling on the ground, crying so hard she was almost fainting, and then at the beautiful Daoist nun in his arms, her face pale, her eyes vacant, as if her soul had left her body. The playful smile on his lips deepened.

He likes this game.

This is a game that crushes holiness and then reshapes it with mud and lies into a form that better suits his desires.

"Okay, everyone get up."

He released Fang Yanqing, then bent down and pulled the two, who had already suffered a mental breakdown, up with one hand each.

His movements were steady, carrying an irresistible force, yet they also appeared so gentle.

Zhou Zhiruo was still sobbing, her face covered in tears and self-blame.

Fang Yanqing was like a puppet, letting him do as he pleased. But in her empty phoenix eyes, there was a trace of instinctive fear of what was about to happen that she herself did not even realize.