The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 103

The stagnant despair in those once empty and lifeless, beautiful almond-shaped eyes was rapidly receding.

Instead, there was a cold, poisonous, and sinister light.

A face appeared clearly in her mind.

That masculine face, radiating a mix of domineering and playful energy.

Wang Meng!

It's this man!

If it weren't for him, she would still be that pure and innocent Miss Wang!

If he hadn't ruined her, at least she could have kept her body clean for her cousin!

It's him!

He sacrificed himself as the most precious offering to his cousin!

This hatred was so intense, so vivid, that it brought a touch of warmth back to her icy limbs.

But what's the use of that?

"Miss Cousin!"

Miss!

An aged and anxious voice, accompanied by a series of hurried footsteps, came from outside the embroidered building.

That voice was incredibly familiar.

It's Deng Baichuan.

He was the oldest and most reliable of the four retainers under his cousin's command.

He was one of the few who managed to escape during the chaotic battle that day.

This voice, filled with the past and loyalty, pierced Wang Yuyan's newly formed world, a world built on hatred, like a needle.

In an instant, the overwhelming hatred did not dissipate; instead, it seemed to have found an outlet, settling down in a more terrifying and calmer way.

Her eyes, which gleamed with a sinister light, twitched slightly as they looked toward the tightly closed door.

it is good.

well.

A cold, insane plan began to take shape in her brilliant mind, which was now completely consumed by hatred.

She slowly stood up from the edge of the bed.

The movements were no longer weak and feeble, but astonishingly stable, as if they had been honed through countless trials.

She opened the door.

Outside the door, Deng Baichuan, who was over fifty years old, paced back and forth anxiously, like an ant on a hot pan.

He was covered in dust, his clothes stained with dried, blackened blood, and the deep wrinkles on his face were filled with exhaustion and despair.

Several maids dressed in emerald green collapsed softly at his feet, their fate unknown.

Clearly, in order to see Wang Yuyan, this loyal old retainer did not hesitate to force his way in.

When he saw the door open and Wang Yuyan's pale, bloodless face, he was taken aback.

Then, a last glimmer of hope appeared on that weathered old face.

He disregarded all etiquette and rushed forward, his cloudy old eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse as he urgently asked, "Miss, where is the young master?"

Where is the young master?

Clearly, these loyal retainers who managed to escape by sheer luck were unaware that the "young master" they had sworn to serve to the death had already become a cold corpse, forever remaining in that Langhuan Jade Cave.

They simply assumed that they had been separated from their young master during the chaotic battle.

Deng Baichuan imagined he would see a pitiful girl crying her heart out, needing him, as an elder, to comfort her.

However, Wang Yuyan's reaction made all the words he had prepared get stuck in his throat.

She just stood there quietly, watching him.

Those once clear, almond-shaped eyes were now devoid of tears, filled only with a bottomless, chilling depth that made even this old man, who had spent his life navigating the treacherous world of martial arts, feel a chill run through his heart.

Her gaze slowly moved up from the blood-stained hem of his clothes, sweeping across his anxious and desperate face, like a general examining the only broken weapon he had left after his defeat.

"Deng Gong".

She spoke, her voice flat, as if she were talking about something completely unrelated to herself.

How many men do you have under your command?

Or rather, how many members of the Murong clan are left?

Behind a secluded artificial hill, shadows perfectly engulfed two bodies tightly embracing each other.

Wang Meng, like a solid mountain, embraced Li Qingluo's mature, soft body from behind.

His chin rested lazily on her shoulder, his hot breath spraying onto her sensitive, fair earlobe.

One of his hands, without any hesitation, encircled her slender waist and firmly covered her flat and warm abdomen. His other hand, as if finding its most familiar spot, brazenly kneaded her breasts, which, even through the thin fabric, were still breathtakingly full.

Their gazes, peering through the gaps in the artificial hill, landed on the scene in the distance.

The elderly Deng Baichuan, like a loyal old sword drawn from its sheath, guarded Wang Yuyan's side.

Wang Yuyan, on the other hand, stood ramrod straight.

Each step was taken with exceptional stability, carrying an indescribable, cold resolve.

She didn't even glance back at the haphazardly lying corpses of the maids who had once served her, lying in pools of blood, before turning her head and stepping out of the gates of Mantuo Manor.

Watching her daughter's resolute departure, Li Qingluo's body tensed.

at last!

She couldn't help but tremble slightly.

A long, complex sigh escaped softly from her lips, which were slightly swollen from Wang Meng's kisses.

In that sigh, there was a mother's reluctance to let go, a hint of worry about her daughter's future, but more than anything, a sense of powerlessness in the face of fate.

Girls can’t stay at home when they grow up…

She leaned against the man's firm, iron-like chest behind her, feeling a sudden emptiness in her heart.

She subconsciously rubbed her cheek against his broad shoulder, her voice carrying a weak dependence that she herself was unaware of.

“My lord… Yu Yan, after all, is my only daughter…”

She hadn't finished speaking.

The large hand that was still groping her chest suddenly stopped.

Then, following the curves of her body, it slid down.

Finally, it landed on her two plump, perky buttocks, which were tightly wrapped in the silk skirt.

Then, that hand suddenly exerted force.

"Snapped!"

A crisp, aggressive sound echoed in the small space.

"what……"

Caught off guard, Li Qingluo let out a suppressed, sweet-smelling gasp from deep within her throat.

She felt that half of her body was being gripped by that rough, large hand, making her feel numb and hot.

A strong, shameful current instantly shot from my tailbone straight to the top of my head!

A sliver of maternal instinct and sadness had just begun to rise within her.

In an instant, it was all smashed away by that one blow.

"Only daughter?"

Wang Meng's deep, hoarse voice, filled with intense desire, rang out, almost touching her eardrums.

"What's the big deal?"

As he spoke, he used his large, hot hand to give her incredibly elastic buttocks a couple more hard squeezes.

Those lewd and undisguised actions made Li Qingluo's legs go weak.

"Give me another one, and I'll have another one."

His words, like a ball of burning coals, were directly imprinted on Li Qingluo's heart.

The phrase "Give my true self another child" carried an undeniable domineering and intensely possessive nature, instantly filling her sense of sadness and emptiness caused by her daughter's departure with a more turbulent and intense emotion.

It was a mixture of shame and humiliation, yet also carried a hidden, sweet thrill of being needed.

Her body, nestled in his arms, was as soft as a pool of spring water.

Wang Meng seemed quite pleased with her submissive demeanor, but he quickly sensed a lingering, maternal worry deep within her that couldn't be completely dispelled.

His large hand, which had been ravaging her plump buttocks, softened its grip slightly, changing from aggressive kneading to soothing.

He buried his chin deeper into the crook of her neck, which exuded the scent of adult flesh, and his voice regained a hint of seriousness, but his confidence in controlling everything remained undiminished.

"Do not worry."

His deep voice, like the plucking of a cello, resonated in her ear: "I wouldn't feel at ease if someone else were to make the move."

But since it's her who's handling things... things become much simpler, don't they?"

The "she" he was referring to was naturally the mysterious and powerful Li Canghai, who was as powerful as a ghost or god.

Li Qingluo's somewhat hazy thoughts jolted slightly.

She knew who Wang Meng was talking about, but the doubt in her heart was like a vine that had been hooked, getting more and more entangled.

She didn't understand why he had to be so ruthless.

This is no longer a simple act of revenge, but a complete, uprooted... purge.

Her body stiffened slightly, almost instinctively.