Chapter 67: A Capricious and Reckless Bastard
“Curiosity?”
Song Yilou’s crimson ghost eyes looked like a flowing pool of blood. In the next second, blood might pour out from them, drowning Yun Wuxiang within.
“It seems to be so. I am full of curiosity toward the Temple Master. Since the Temple Master has put it that way, naturally, I must satisfy my own curiosity.”
The hand Song Yilou had covering Yun Wuxiang’s forehead moved downward. Tracing the contours of his cheek and neck, it slid past his collarbone, finally stopping right in the center of his chest.
Yun Wuxiang didn’t swat the hand away midway. Several semi-transparent, bone-white ghost hands wrapped around him, locking down his limbs.
“Bear with it, Temple Master,” Song Yilou said. The hand pressed against Yun Wuxiang’s chest phased through, plunging into his soul.
Yun Wuxiang’s entire body tensed. Just as his body made a conditioned reflex to struggle, the ghost hands exerted force together, holding him firmly in place.
“There’s dirt in your soul. I’ll help the Temple Master clean it out.”
The sensation of a hand stirring and digging inside one’s soul was bizarre, an eeriness that was impossible to ignore. That hand reached deep into Yun Wuxiang’s soul and grabbed onto something.
Yun Wuxiang realized what he was doing. Trembling, he gritted his teeth and said, “Yun Xinyang, you can’t…”
Song Yilou was extracting Yun Xinyang’s soul. This was pure fantasy!
Inner Demons themselves had no soul, no physical body; they were just a consciousness. Thus, from the moment they were born, they knew they had to seize everything from the main body to become complete.
Yun Wuxiang’s situation was a bit special. He hadn’t gone through the step of bewitching and seizing. It was Yun Xinyang who actively gave everything in his name to him. When Yun Wuxiang said he was Yun Xinyang’s second personality, he wasn’t wrong, because aside from personality and memory, everything he had originated from Yun Xinyang’s gift.
Now, Song Yilou was forcibly dismantling Yun Xinyang’s soul. This was no different from dyeing a piece of paper, and then asking for the color while throwing the paper away. It was fundamentally an impossible task.
“Memories, physical body, obsessions, soul.” With every word Song Yilou uttered, he dismantled a portion from Yun Wuxiang’s soul. “Yun Wuxiang, you are entangled far too deeply with him.”
So deeply that every time he thought of it, he felt profound jealousy.
“I wanted to see your true form as a demon, wanted to plant a Qing Gu in you, but compared to the existence of Yun Xinyang, all of that can be put off.”
Song Yilou earnestly dissected Yun Wuxiang’s soul, separating the parts that belonged to Yun Xinyang with rare seriousness. “He is too much of an eyesore.”
“If you dig him out… what will I… have left?” Yun Wuxiang didn’t dare to imagine what he would finally become if he truly let Song Yilou keep dismantling him like this.
“What will be left is the pure you.” Hearing his words, Song Yilou smiled. It was a hair-raising tenderness, and beneath that tenderness lay a fanatical anticipation.
“The Temple Master can just trustfully leave himself to me. In my eyes, your soul and Yun Xinyang’s soul are completely different. I won’t take apart the wrong one.”
Another piece of Yun Wuxiang’s soul was emptied out.
Completely different? How could his soul and Yun Xinyang’s soul be any different?
【Warning, warning! Abnormalities detected in Host’s soul. Warning!】
【Oh my god! I just went to help the World Consciousness build a few firewalls, how did Song Yilou mutate?!】
3339 checked its backend timetable, confirming it had only been away for a few days, not a few hundred years.
In just a few days, how did Song Yilou acquire the power of a high-tier Jie Jun?
“What is this thing again?” Song Yilou noticed the anomaly when the System spoke up, a single sentence scaring 3339 half to death.
It got discovered!
Song Yilou: “Temple Master, just how much garbage have you hidden in your soul?”
【Pah! Who is this psycho calling garbage?!】
【Host, use your remaining points to exchange for a Cross-Realm Teleportation Talisman! Exchange it quickly, we’re leaving this place!】
[No need.] Yun Wuxiang watched as his soul was hollowed out bit by bit by Song Yilou. Ghost hands restricted his movements, and his field of vision was locked onto Song Yilou’s face.
【Host!】 3339 was extremely anxious, like its eyebrows were on fire. 【Your soul is about to be dismantled to pieces! Points are not as important as your life! … Ahhhhh! Holy shit, help—】
Song Yilou dug a small speck of light out from Yun Wuxiang’s soul: “Temple Master, who is this again? My romantic rival?”
His ghost eyes fixed on Yun Wuxiang. As long as he said ‘yes’, the speck of light at his fingertips would be crushed to dust.
So this was what the System looked like, the thought flashed through Yun Wuxiang’s mind. Verbally, he said: “No, this is… the key to Yun Xinyang’s home.”
“Garbage, as expected.” With a flick of his finger, Song Yilou flicked 3339 into the extracted soul body of Yun Xinyang.
Yun Wuxiang quietly watched as a pair of hands reached into his soul, continuously excavating the parts belonging to Yun Xinyang like mining a mountain.
“Three immortal souls and seven mortal forms. I’ve finally dug it completely clean.”
Song Yilou gazed at the soul in front of him, which had become much more transparent, showing a child-like, joyful smile: “Temple Master, how do you feel?”
Yun Wuxiang felt his soul was incredibly hollow and terrifyingly light, so loose it felt like a gust of wind could blow him apart.
“Very sleepy.”
When a soul body weakens to a certain point, it falls into a deep slumber. Without external help, it might sleep forever until it completely dissipates. When a soul feels drowsiness, it means it has reached the brink of danger.
Yun Wuxiang had never been this weak. He wondered if he was crazy to let Song Yilou do this to his soul.
“I want to kill something.” Yun Wuxiang’s crimson demonic eyes held pure killing intent. There was no hatred, anger, or any other cause, just killing intent in its purest form.
He remembered now. He was born because of Yun Xinyang’s fear of slaughter. The very foundation of his birth was slaughter.
Demonic qi seeped out from Yun Wuxiang’s remaining soul. The demonic nature that had been covered up by his humanity completely revived. Amidst the draining sensation of near-death, Yun Wuxiang actually felt an unprecedented freedom and ethereal lightness.
“Song Yilou, I’m about to dissipate.”
“You won’t dissipate.” Song Yilou stared obsessively at the soul in front of him, his body continuously moving closer. “The Temple Master’s soul is missing something. I’ll help you fill it.”
As their lips overlapped, Yun Wuxiang’s drowsy eyes widened slightly.
At this moment, he suddenly realized something. Yun Xinyang’s soul had already been stripped away. Even though Song Yilou loved to get handsy, hugging and holding him, he had never kissed him. That was because he minded Yun Xinyang’s existence.
Yun Wuxiang knew this. No matter how close Song Yilou got, there would be no further intimate actions. Now, the thing restricting Song Yilou was gone.
His lips were pried open aggressively. An arrogant and greedy tongue invaded another soul body, endlessly pouring yin qi into his body, filling up the hollowed soul.
Pouring, filling, permeating, blending.
Yun Wuxiang’s weakened soul rapidly filled up, becoming solid and resilient.
The object in his mouth was like a fish frantically thirsting for liquid, brushing past every corner of his oral cavity, eventually even reaching towards his throat.
The intense sensation of invasion made Yun Wuxiang uncomfortable. He raised his hand to push the person in front of him away, but before he could exert any force, four or five ghost hands grabbed his arms again. His shoulders and waist were similarly pinned down, holding him in place.
None of these ghost hands behaved either. They were formed from Song Yilou’s yin qi, each connected to his consciousness and selfish desires.
The base of his ears, neckline, collarbone, chest, lower back, hips, and thighs…
Killing intent skyrocketed!
Fierce crimson light condensed into chains, lashing out towards Song Yilou.
The seemingly illusory, transparent ghost hands caught the chains. Song Yilou pulled back, the tip of his tongue hooking across the corner of Yun Wuxiang’s mouth as he left: “The Temple Master is so fierce. Wait a little longer, your soul hasn’t been fully repaired yet… So beautiful.”
At this extremely close range, Yun Wuxiang could clearly see the amazement and fanaticism in Song Yilou’s eyes. It was like a completely ignited volcano; even the blood-red color in his ghost eyes had burned into boiling magma.
In that magma, he saw himself—white hair, red eyes, brimming with killing intent, his entire body wreathed in cold, ruthless, fierce baleful qi.
Looking like this, even Yun Wuxiang felt he looked like some great demon lord bent on destroying the world. Yet he could tell that Song Yilou’s admiration came entirely from the bottom of his heart, without a trace of falsehood.
Song Yilou’s aesthetic tastes probably had a problem too.
“You…” Just as Yun Wuxiang opened his mouth, Song Yilou leaned in again, blocking his mouth and tongue. Yin qi surged in, and Song Yilou’s voice echoed in his consciousness: 【Yun Wuxiang, I am going to be your Dao Companion.】
An invisible thread formed, linking the two of them together.
A strange emotion bred from the bottom of his heart. Yun Wuxiang suddenly felt that Song Yilou’s face seemed even better looking than before, as if a beauty filter completely tailored to his tastes had been applied.
A good-looking and mischievous poisonous scorpion. He should be locked up and kept a close eye on.
Yun Wuxiang raised his hand, wrapping it around the back of Song Yilou’s head, gripping the nape of his neck to pull him slightly away. He looked into Song Yilou’s eyes, his tone dark and hoarse: “You planted a Qing Gu in me.”
“Yes, I finally succeeded,” Song Yilou smiled like a cat that had finally succeeded in stealing fish—delighted and smug, yet also mixed with scrutiny and curiosity, observing Yun Wuxiang’s expression.
The hand Yun Wuxiang had pressing on the back of his neck forcefully pushed down. Aiming for the corners of Song Yilou’s mouth that smiled in a way that begged for a beating, he bit down, imitating the actions of invasion and attack that Song Yilou had just done to him.
He knew he had been hit by a Qing Gu. Nine times out of ten, the emotions he felt for Song Yilou were fake. But so what? He wanted to do this right now.
Lust truly was, as he had thought before, comparable to a poison that could make one lose their reason.
When his sweetheart actively kissed him, how could Song Yilou refuse? He responded enthusiastically.
Yun Wuxiang’s actions were more forceful, yet somewhat clumsy and irritable. Song Yilou, on the other hand, was extremely capricious, sometimes provoking, sometimes teasing, and occasionally sneaking in a surprise attack or two. The kiss felt like fighting a battle.
As they kissed, Yun Wuxiang’s hands found empty air. He froze for a moment, looking at his palms. The crazy, fake love in his head faded, but the afterglow left a mark in his heart.
“A capricious and reckless bastard.”
Song Yilou dug Yun Xinyang out of his body just so he could fill the gap himself. Before going off to die, he even tied a Dao Companion bond and planted a Qing Gu in him.
Yun Wuxiang simply didn’t know what kind of expression he should make to face this.
He just wanted to see what kind of scheme Song Yilou was brewing, but he actually ended up with a Dao Companion. Even though his refusal to acknowledge it wouldn’t change anything, his first kiss was really gone!
“Um, are you Yun Wuxiang?”
Yun Wuxiang turned his head. His physical body had sat up, looking at him with an expression of having just woken up from a daze to witness a world-shattering piece of gossip—a mix of confusion and shock.
“Yun Xinyang…”
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