Sick Beauty [Rebirth]

Chapter 124: Pureland.

 (usually refers to Amitabha Buddha's Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss)

The night was like water.

Bamboo House.

The slender fingertips touched the center of his eyebrows.

But it seemed to pinch his neck and press against the tip of his heart.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't even think.

"I hope...Senior Immortal can enlighten me," the Demon Lord said hoarsely.

He raised his head slightly and piously stamped a kiss on the other's fingertips.

The other party didn't speak, but he unhurriedly stroked the back of his head with his other shackled hand and gently pressed him into his arms.

He smelled a cold fragrance.

It floated on the end of his nose like moonlight, resembling ice and snow, akin to the snow flower he held in his palm many years ago.

The fragrance formed an invisible net, completely cocooning him. It taught him to fall into an inescapable whirlpool.

Why was it so?

The Demon Lord couldn't understand.

Obviously, he wasn't the one incarcerated, nor the one clinking the chains with his limbs' movements. But in those sounds, a silk thread seemed to entangle over every inch of his flesh and blood. His blood was rushing, and his ferocious bestial nature taught him he couldn't help desiring to turn over, seize that prey's neck, and bite it. But, the ups and downs of warmth he recalled fondly allowed his lingering shred of humanity to survive.

He was greedy for this warmth and craved more.

The moonlight shone down.

Ye Yunlan's pure white hair poured down like snow on the Demon Lord's chest.

He bowed his head to kiss the Demon Lord's handsome face.

However, such a move seemed somewhat strenuous for him.

His eyebrows gently frowned as if implicating something. Water condensed in the golden eyes as if the liquid was about to drip onto the Demon Lord's cheeks.

He asked the Demon Lord: "How is it?"

The Demon Lord looked at his face piously and obsessively: "Very...very good."

Ye Yunlan: "You forgot to operate the exercises."

The Demon Lord: "I...forgot?"

Ye Yunlan: "You forgot."

Ye Yunlan looked a smidge tired when he spoke. He was already exhausted.

So the movements temporarily stopped.

The water-like moonlight outside the window immersed his thin back, and the wind blew his shoulders and white hair, some of which brushed the Demon Lord's cheek.

The Demon Lord murmured: "Senior Immortal...it's so quiet."

The noise of wailing and crying in his ears had ceased. The undulating shadows around him have stopped dancing, dormant on the side. He seldom heard the bugs chirp outside the window.

Ye Yunlan: "Really?"

The Demon Lord's red eyes brimmed with obsession.

He said: "It seems like I can gradually see some colors. Only the colors on Master's body."

Ye Yunlan breathed a sigh of relief and repeated: "... Really?"

The Demon Lord's face expressed marginal confusion.

"Why is Master's hair all...white? And Master's eyes..."

Ye Yunlan didn't answer.

It's just that the chain on his body produced a delicate sound again, and the exercises injected the warm spiritual power into the Demon Lord's body.

His movements were slow and difficult. Tears hung in the golden pupils looking down at the Demon Lord, and the Demon Lord couldn't see or distinguish some things.

He was shaken to the core.

The warm current flushed away the abounding hostility entwined in his chest and his broken, blood-red world. The land full of blood and corpses unexpectedly gave birth to a pure white flower.

He had a pure land that belonged to him alone.

And he felt a rare warmth and tranquility in the pure land.

Finally, the inextricable madness and obsession accumulated for 30+ years seemingly found its source. The disorganized brain scarcely regained the ability to think soberly in the warm current's turmoil.

So he obsessively rolled around in this pure land, reluctant to leave for a long time and even wanting to encroach on more land to absorb additional warmth.

But suddenly, he felt hot tears dripping onto his cheeks.

When he opened his eyes, he saw white hair like frost and flowing moonlight.

His master lay down on his chest, fatigued, like soft spring snow spreading out.

The heavy chains were handcuffed to his limbs, and a dazzling red was worn on his wrist bones.

The Demon Lord was momentarily stunned.

Suddenly, he raised his hand and hugged this handful of snow heedfully into his arms as if embracing his most cherished treasure on the verge of breaking.

He unfastened the chains on the other's limbs and kissed the other's pale cheek again, whispering:

"Master, I'm sorry..."