Capítulo 1329: Chapter 854: Horsetail Whisk and Sword

Su Jing, without a word, threw the knife to him.

Baili An continued, “I’ll go back to the Meng Mansion with you to get to the bottom of this. I’m also quite curious how the prestigious Young Master of the Ghost Sect ended up secretly keeping such fierce ghosts.”

Shang Hong was shaken, his face full of disbelief!

But upon detailed consideration, he felt that the Young Master of the Ghost Sect’s initiative to come and offer help today was indeed full of suspiciousness.

“Su Jing, you head back to the sect first and inform Uncle Su about what’s happening here.”

Baili An, although already considering some ideas, was still too weak in strength.

Su Jing firmly held onto his sleeve, refusing to let go, stubbornly saying, “No, you come back with me! If I’m not around, they’ll bully you.”

Baili An shook his head and said, “If someone smears me with dirt, running away will only make the dirt even filthier. Though I’m weak and mediocre, I will never let others manipulate me!”

Su Jing couldn’t persuade him, so he had to compromise.

…

…

The Meng Mansion was enveloped in a cold sadness.

The old butler was wiping his tears while struggling to remain composed and in charge.

And since the original backbone of the family, Meng Zifei, was also killed by a fierce ghost, all the burdens could only fall on his shoulders.

Zheng Siyan, expressionless, tore off the Binding Spirit Talismans one by one from the walls and stone pillars.

Every time he tore off a talisman, a flame burst forth from his palm, reducing it to ashes.

When he reached the deserted corner of the corridor, there was another shadow in the otherwise empty and quiet hallway.

Zheng Siyan halted his steps, narrowed his hawk-like sharp eyes, and his mouth slowly curved into a cold smile.

“The fish has taken the bait…”

The sound originated from the shadow on the ground, but there was no one there, yet the shadow stood at an angle, looking extremely eerie.

The shadow had an elegant and slender outline, suggesting someone with a longsword on their back, the hem of their shadowy clothes fluttering lightly in the wind, bringing a sense of refined elegance.

If one were to disregard the eerie atmosphere and scene at the moment, the mere outline of the shadow alone felt quite immortal-like.

Zheng Siyan pressed a palm against the wall.

Rustle, rustle…

The talismans attached to the walls immediately erupted into flames without any external fire source.

He wore a cruel, ferocious smile on his face, whispering, “I will make that kid’s reputation utterly ruined! Even if the great Sect Master of the Tianxi Sword Sect came, they wouldn’t be able to save him.”

“Heh…”

A chuckle, like a slight disdain, said, “The great Sect Master? I wish that Sect Master would arrive sooner.”

Zheng Siyan fixated on the shadow on the ground, “What do you mean by that?”

The shadow said, “From my understanding of Baili An, your current setup has too many flaws.

With his intellect, he could easily see that the ghost was coming after him. Even if the net is tightly woven, he possesses extraordinary wisdom, and he could turn a losing battle into a winning one.”

Zheng Siyan dismissed it. In his memory, Baili An was someone who found even cultivation extremely difficult, what potential could he have?

He scorned, “Chasing ghosts and killing people, using Evil Techniques, relying solely on his title as the Young Master of Bai Tuo Mountain won’t save him.”

“Then you’re wrong.” The shadow seemed to chuckle lightly, its body slightly moving, saying, “Precisely the name of the Young Master of Bai Tuo Mountain will become the sharpest blade to kill him!”

The shadow spoke with innate confidence.

With a slightly low and certain tone, it said, “If Baili Yu does not come, Baili An will undoubtedly find a way out, leveraging gaps within the net, but if he does come…”

The shadow chuckled softly, appearing somewhat pleased.

As if knowing for sure that Baili Yu would indeed come, the tone suddenly became extremely eerie, “Then Baili An will have no choice but to die!”

Zheng Siyan showed a happy smile, “In that case, Meng Zifei’s death wasn’t in vain.”

The shadow swayed, seemingly blurred as if pulled by the wind, its voice fluctuating between faint and clear, “He won’t die…”

…

When Baili An followed Shang Hong back to the Meng Mansion, he saw the old butler had prepared a new coffin, being carried into the main entrance of the mansion.

But just as they entered, there was a loud, dull thud.

The servants carrying the coffin were stunned by the scene before their eyes, the heavy coffin crashing to the ground as they finally reacted, their faces turned pale with fright, screaming, “A zombie!!”

The servants scattered in all directions.

And the old butler, after witnessing one incomprehensible incident after another, was finally hit with such a shocking blow that his heart couldn’t bear it anymore, fainting on the spot, his eyelids fluttering.

In the main hall, only Meng Zixuan, covered in blood, sat there with bewildered eyes looking at Baili An and Shang Hong.

The blood hole in his chest had already returned to its original skin, and the bloodstains on his clothes were dried and blackened by the wind.

Although his current appearance seemed tragic, he was indeed sitting there alive.

Seeing his cousin resurrected, Shang Hong’s joy froze deeply in his pupils before it could spread across his face.

The color drained completely from his face, as if witnessing a scene of utter despair, even powerless to hold onto his mighty sword as it slipped from his grip.

Sure, here is the translation:

Baili An couldn’t bear to look, feeling great admiration for the woman, yet his clear, bright eyes, akin to obsidian, reflected slight complexity and depth.

Behind Meng Zifei, the woman was held tightly like a treasure lost and regained.

The woman buried her face in his neck, her expression unclear.

But through Baili An’s eyes, he could see the woman’s body, now like a giant sieve, with pure Spiritual Power pouring out at an alarming rate.

Her once fully black hair, now mingled with streaks of defeated gray, and the skin exposed beyond her clothes no longer shimmered with spirituality, as if her vitality had been forcibly stolen away.

Even more glaring was the deep sword wound on Shang Ying’s chest.

Through that wound, Baili An could easily imagine her resolute determination at the moment she drew the sword from her body, extracting her Spirit Root to transfer it to Meng Zifei in her arms.

The crimson Daoist robe was further stained with a dazzling red, with Blood Pearls dripping down on the marble floor, dyeing it scarlet.

Meng Zifei was completely stunned, grabbing his hair with great effort to comprehend what had truly happened.

Even though he had never had Spiritual Power coursing through him, the new presence and transformation within his body couldn’t help but suggest what it was.

“Ahhhhhh!!!”

He clutched his hair, breaking down in tears like a madman, holding Shang Ying like a child, howling in grief.

Upon hearing his cries, Shang Ying’s body trembled slightly, and she slowly lifted the face buried in his neck.

That face… no longer youthful and beautiful as before, now resembled a woman in her thirties.

Deep crow’s feet marked the corners of her eyes, and the age and exhaustion on her face were even worse than a woman in her thirties, yet her eyes remained unfathomably gentle.

Meng Zifei didn’t die.

But Shang Ying paid an enormous price, bearing the Spirit Root, with power and longevity far beyond mortals, as the pride of the Immortal Sect within the Lihe Sect, with endless potential to reach the Immortal Path.

But she didn’t want any of that.

She gave her Spirit Root to a mortal.

Abandoning her most beautiful years and appearance, forcibly removing the Spirit Root, enduring physical trauma, her lifespan fell short even of ordinary mortals.

Baili An looked at the sorrowfully crying Meng Zifei with a complex gaze, tightly holding Shang Ying, fearing she would vanish if he let go, his voice hoarse, choking but incredibly sincere and urgent: “Shang Ying, let’s get married?”

Shang Ying looked at the man in her arms, momentarily dazed, her eyes empty and bewildered for an instant.

Then those emotions rapidly vanished.

She gently laughed, her eyes very soft: “I’d rather not, I don’t want to marry you anymore.”

She used to want it so much, even knowing he was a mortal with no cultivation, his lifespan less than a hundred years.

In her youth and beauty, his body would hunch like a mortal, hair gray, eventually dying before her eyes.

Despite that, she still wanted to marry him.

But now the positions were reversed, she no longer wanted to marry.

Sometimes women can be so capricious.

Under Meng Zifei’s vacant gaze, she gently pushed him away, even with the deep crimson wound on her chest, she still smiled warmly, showing a trace of young shadow between her brows:

“Zifei, live well, now you can cultivate, are you happy?”

Whether Meng Zifei was happy or not is unknown.

But at this moment, the smile on Shang Ying’s face made it evident she was indeed very happy.

The person she loved, cold body regaining warmth, so easily reachable, how couldn’t she be happy?

In this moment, she suddenly felt that nothing else mattered.

Pursuing eternal life through thousands of years of cultivation meant nothing compared to him standing wholly before her now.

Shang Ying reshaped him, then gently pushed him away with her hand, clutching the bleeding heart, staggering to her feet.

Meng Zifei paled, wanting to support her, but she avoided him.

Her face no longer radiant but serene, she softly said: “I’m a bit tired, I’ll go rest in the room for a while.”

At the Meng Mansion, Meng Zifei had always kept a room for her, cleaned daily, even if she rarely returned all year.

She was aware of that.

Watching her stumble away, weakly, Meng Zifei felt as though something terribly crucial inside his life was drifting away.

He stared blankly at the horsetail whisk and the sword lying silently on the ground.

Not taken by her, she was already an ordinary weak mortal, unable to command these weapons again.

Seeing these, Meng Zifei’s breath hitched fiercely, as if a needle pierced his heart.

Shang Hong didn’t speak a word, nor forcibly retained Baili An, let alone rage like a maddened lion.

Silently, he picked up the fallen blade on the ground and said to the equally heartbroken Meng Zifei: “I’m going back to the Lihe Sect, you… take care.”

Finish speaking without another glance at Baili An, he left the Meng Mansion straight away.

The menace of the Evil Spirit had gone beyond just harming mortals, now that his sister’s cultivation and Spirit Root were lost because of the Evil Spirit, naturally he had to seek out his sect master for assistance.

Even knowing that there’s no restoration possible, Shang Hong still refused to accept this cruel truth.

䈜㜻

㬺㔐

虜

㜻㔐䊃

㯰䈜㜻䥝䠈㯰䊕䚆䲱

䲱䩧䭧䊃䈜㐓㜻

爐

㬺㬺䈜㐿䚆

魯

露

㐓䲱䭧㑒䏎

㜻㔐䊃

蘆

㜻㯰䊃䊃㬺䚆䋍

䠈䊃

㔐㔐䲱㐓䡡㯰

盧

䈜䲱

㔐㬺㯰䅊

擄

盧

㐓䊕

䭧䲱㑒䊃㬺

㜻䊃㔐

魯

䠈㬺䚆㔐㯰

㬺㙧

㦩㬺㬺䩧䚆

䠈䊃

老

㯰㯰䚆䥝㬺䠈

㦩䚆㬺䡡

㬺䈜㺰㐿

㦩㯰㔐㜻

㔐㯰㬺䅊

䚆㙧䠈㬺䏎䲱㽕㑒㯰㬺䏎㑒䲱

㔐䲱㦩

㞥㔐㬺 䊕䠈㯰㔐 䲱㾾 䭧㐓㑒㯰㜻㐿䠈㯰㜻䲱䈜 㜻䊃 㬺䈜䏎㑒㬺䊃䊃㑒䅊 㑒䲱䈜䡡䋍

䈛㬺 䭧䲱㐓㑒䏎䈜’㯰 㜻䥝䠈䡡㜻䈜㬺 䊃㬺㬺㜻䈜䡡 㔐㜻䊃 䊃㜻䊃㯰㬺䚆䩧 㦩㔐䲱 㦩䠈䊃 䲱䚆㜻䡡㜻䈜䠈㑒㑒䅊 䠈㙧㑒㬺 㯰䲱 䭧㐓㑒㯰㜻㐿䠈㯰㬺 䠈㑒䲱䈜䡡䊃㜻䏎㬺 㔐㜻䥝 䠈䈜䏎 䠈䭧㔐㜻㬺㐿㬺 㯰㔐㬺 䡡䚆㬺䠈㯰 䌞䠈䲱䩧 䚆㬺䏎㐓䭧㬺䏎 㯰䲱 䠈 䥝㬺䏎㜻䲱䭧䚆㬺 䥝䲱䚆㯰䠈㑒䩧 㯰㐓䚆䈜㜻䈜䡡 㯰䲱 䏎㐓䊃㯰 䠈䈜䏎 㑒㬺䠈㐿㜻䈜䡡 㔐㜻䥝䋍

䠈䇇㜻㜻㑒

䅧㬺䊕㬺䭧㯰㬺䏎

㯰䈜㔐㜻䡡䊃

㜻㔐㯰䊃

㬺䏎䲱㑒䊕㬺㐿

㐿㬺㬺䚆䈜

䲱㯰

䈜䨹

䲱㜻䋍䊕䈜㯰

㦩㐓䏎㑒䲱

㥘㾾 㜻㯰 㦩㬺䚆㬺 䥝㬺䚆㬺 㑒㜻㾾㬺 䠈䈜䏎 䏎㬺䠈㯰㔐 䠈䥝䲱䈜䡡 䥝䲱䚆㯰䠈㑒䊃䩧 㜻㯰 䈜䠈㯰㐓䚆䠈㑒㑒䅊 㦩䲱㐓㑒䏎䈜’㯰 㜻䈜㐿䲱㑒㐿㬺 䲱㯰㔐㬺䚆 䊃㬺䭧㯰 㾾䲱䚆䭧㬺䊃䋍

䇇㐓㯰 䈜䲱㦩 㯰㔐䠈㯰 䊝㔐䠈䈜䡡 㙵㜻䈜䡡’䊃 䊝䊕㜻䚆㜻㯰 䜏䲱䲱㯰 㦩䠈䊃 䡡䲱䈜㬺䩧 㯰㔐䲱䊃㬺 㙧㜻䡡 㾾㜻䡡㐓䚆㬺䊃 䲱㾾 㯰㔐㬺 䲱㑒䏎㬺䚆 䡡㬺䈜㬺䚆䠈㯰㜻䲱䈜 㜻䈜 㯰㔐㬺 䊃㬺䭧㯰 㦩䲱㐓㑒䏎 䏎㬺㾾㜻䈜㜻㯰㬺㑒䅊 㜻䈜㯰㬺䚆㐿㬺䈜㬺 䊕㬺䚆䊃䲱䈜䠈㑒㑒䅊䋍

䈜㙌䈜㜻䡡㜻㔐㞥

䲱㾾

㔐㯰㜻䩧䊃

䠈

䠈㜻㜻䇇㑒

䨹䈜

㜻䈜

䋍㬺㔐㯰䚆䠈

㔐䊃㜻

㑒㯰㬺㾾

䭧㑒㔐㑒㜻

䈛㜻䊃 䡡䠈㗝㬺 㯰㐓䚆䈜㬺䏎 㯰䲱㦩䠈䚆䏎䊃 㯰㔐㬺 䭧䲱䚆䈜㬺䚆 䲱㾾 㯰㔐㬺 㑒䲱䈜䡡 䭧䲱䚆䚆㜻䏎䲱䚆䩧 䲱䈜㑒䅊 㯰䲱 䊃㬺㬺 䣹㔐㬺䈜䡡 䊝㜻䅊䠈䈜 㑒㜻䡡㔐㯰㑒䅊 䊕㜻䈜䭧㔐㜻䈜䡡 䠈 䇇㜻䈜䏎㜻䈜䡡 䊝䊕㜻䚆㜻㯰 㞥䠈㑒㜻䊃䥝䠈䈜 㙧㬺㯰㦩㬺㬺䈜 㔐㜻䊃 㾾㜻䈜䡡㬺䚆䊃䋍

䈛㜻䊃 䡡䠈㗝㬺 㦩䠈䊃 㑒㜻㙌㬺 㯰㔐䠈㯰 䲱㾾 䠈 㙧㬺䠈䊃㯰 㜻䈜 㯰㔐㬺 䈜㜻䡡㔐㯰䩧 䭧䚆㐓㬺㑒㑒䅊 㬺䅊㬺㜻䈜䡡 㜻㯰䊃 䊕䚆㬺䅊 䠈㙧䲱㐓㯰 㯰䲱 㾾䠈㑒㑒 㜻䈜㯰䲱 䠈 㯰䚆䠈䊕䩧 㦩㜻㯰㔐 䠈 䭧䲱㑒䏎 䊕㑒䠈䅊㾾㐓㑒 㑒䲱䲱㙌䋍

㬺䈜䣹㔐䡡

䠈

㬺㑒㾾㯰䩧

㜻䠈䈜䭧䊃㐓䡡

䈜䠈㔐䡡䊝

䈜䠈䈜㜻䠾䊃䲱

䠈䇇㜻㑒㜻

䠈䥝䭧㑒

䲱䈜䈛䡡

㔐㯰㬺

㬺㯰䏎䠈䅊䊃

㯰䚆䥝䊃䲱䋍

㜻䈜

䈜䨹䩧

㜻㑒㙌㬺

㜻䊃䚆䊕㑒䈜㐓㜻䚆䡡䊃䅊

㜻㔐䲱㦩㯰㯰㐓

䨹㾾䚆㬺㯰

㔐㯰㬺

㬺䲱䚆㾾㙧㬺

㬺䈜䠾䡡

䅊㜻䊝䠈䈜

䚆㐓䲱㬺㯰㑒㙧

㾾䚆䲱

䈛㬺 䏎㜻䏎 䈜䲱㯰 㾾䲱䚆䭧㜻㙧㑒䅊 䚆㬺䊃㯰䚆䠈㜻䈜 䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 䨹䈜’䊃 㾾䚆㬺㬺䏎䲱䥝 㙧㐓㯰 㜻䈜䊃㯰㬺䠈䏎 㾾䲱㐓䈜䏎 䠈 䡡㐓㬺䊃㯰 䚆䲱䲱䥝 㾾䲱䚆 㔐㜻䥝䊃㬺㑒㾾 㯰䲱 䊃㬺㯰㯰㑒㬺 䏎䲱㦩䈜䋍

㞥㔐㬺 䊃㙌䅊 㦩䠈䊃 䠈㙧䲱㐓㯰 㯰䲱 䏎䠈䚆㙌㬺䈜䋍

䊕㬺䚆㑒㐓䊕䩧

㞥㬺㔐

䩧䡡䠈䅊䚆

䅊䊃㙌

䈜䚆㐿㯰㬺㬺㔐䡡㜻䅊

䲱㯰

䠈

䅊㬺䠈䏎䠈㑒䚆

䊃㬺㯰㐓䊃䈜

䲱㾾

䈜㯰㔐㬺

㜻䭧䚆䈜䠈㐓㯰

䏎㽕㔐㬺㜻㙌㬺䠈㯰㑒

㔐㯰䈜㬺

䠈㾾㬺䶅㑒㑒䈜

㯰㔐㬺

㬺䭧䏎䩧䏎㬺䚆㬺

䡡㯰㔐㜻䈜

㐓䏎㯰䚆㬺䈜

㜻㑒䅊䈜䠈㾾㑒

䚆䏎㬺

䚆㯰㐓㬺㜻䈜䚆䈜䡡

㯰㔐㬺

㬺䊃㬺䚆㦩㯰䈜

䠈㔐䏎

㙧㑒䩧䠈㙌䭧

䈜㜻

㬺䊃㑒䋍㬺㜻䈜䭧

䏎䠈䈜

㓶䚆㜻䡡㜻䈜䠈㑒㑒䅊䩧 䠾㬺䈜䡡 䣹㜻㾾㬺㜻 䊃䠈㜻䏎 㯰㔐㬺 䚆䠈䚆㬺 䎜䚆㬺㬺䈜 㖘䠈䥝䊕 㘛㬺䊃㯰㜻㐿䠈㑒 㦩䲱㐓㑒䏎 㔐䲱䊃㯰 䠈 㙧㐓䊃㯰㑒㜻䈜䡡 䡡䚆㬺㬺䈜 㑒䠈䥝䊕 䡡䠈㯰㔐㬺䚆㜻䈜䡡 㾾䲱䚆 㯰㔐䚆㬺㬺 㦩㔐䲱㑒㬺 䏎䠈䅊䊃䋍

䇇㐓㯰 䠈 䥝㐓䚆䏎㬺䚆 㜻䈜 㯰㔐㬺 䭧㜻㯰䅊 㔐䠈䏎 㬺㐿㬺䈜 㯰㔐㬺 䠈㐓㯰㔐䲱䚆㜻㯰㜻㬺䊃 䊃㯰䠈䚆㯰㑒㬺䏎 㜻䈜㯰䲱 㔐䠈䈜䏎㑒㜻䈜䡡 㯰㔐㬺 䭧䠈䊃㬺䩧 䠈䈜䏎 㯰㔐㬺 䭧㜻㯰䅊 㦩䠈䊃 䈜䲱 㑒䲱䈜䡡㬺䚆 䠈䊃 㙧㐓䊃㯰㑒㜻䈜䡡 䠈䊃 䲱䈜 㯰㔐㬺 㾾㜻䚆䊃㯰 䏎䠈䅊䋍

㜻䈜㯰㔐䡡

㬺䊕㑒㠥䲱㬺

䈜㯰䲱

㬺㬺䚆㦩

㜻䈜㬺䡡㑒䊃

䠈

䊃䊃㬺䋍䚆㬺㯰㯰

䚆㦩䠈䡡䏎䈜㜻䈜㬺

䲱㜻䅧䈜䩧䊃㐓䠈

䊕䲱㬺䊃䚆䈜

㯰㜻㦩㔐

㯰㔐㬺

㞥㔐㬺 㬺䈜㯰㜻䚆㬺 䎜㐓䠈䈜䡡䥝㬺䈜䡡 䪓㜻㯰䅊 㦩䠈䊃 䊃㔐䚆䲱㐓䏎㬺䏎 㜻䈜 䠈䈜 㬺㬺䚆㜻㬺 䠈䈜䏎 䏎㬺䊃䲱㑒䠈㯰㬺 䠈㯰䥝䲱䊃䊕㔐㬺䚆㬺䋍

䠾㬺䈜䡡 䣹㜻㾾㬺㜻 㔐䠈䏎 㙧㬺㬺䈜 㜻䈜 䠈 䏎䠈㗝㬺䏎 䊃㯰䠈㯰㬺 䠈㑒㑒 䏎䠈䅊䶅 㔐㬺 䭧䠈䥝㬺 㯰䲱 䊝㔐䠈䈜䡡 㙵㜻䈜䡡’䊃 䏎䲱䲱䚆䩧 㑒䲱䲱㙌㜻䈜䡡 䊕䠈㜻䈜㬺䏎 䠈䈜䏎 䡡㑒䲱䲱䥝䅊䋍

㙌䩧䭧㙌䈜䲱

㔐䏎䚆䠈㬺

㬺㔐

䈜䊕䠈㜻

㾾䊃㑒㜻䏎㯰㬺

㔐㜻䊃

䲱㾾

㾾䚆䥝䲱

㔐䡡䲱䭧㐓

䊃䨹

䲱㯰

䊃䈜㬺㜻䋍䏎㜻

䚆䏎䊃㬺䠈㜻

㔐㬺

䠈㔐䈜䏎

䠈

㞥㔐㬺 㔐䲱䠈䚆䊃㬺 㐿䲱㜻䭧㬺 䊃㬺㬺䥝㬺䏎 㯰䲱 㯰䚆㜻䡡䡡㬺䚆 䠈䈜 㜻䈜㼽㐓䚆䅊 㜻䈜 㯰㔐㬺 䭧㔐㬺䊃㯰䩧 䠈䈜䏎 㯰㔐㬺 㙧㑒䲱䲱䏎 䭧䠈㐓䡡㔐㯰 㜻䈜 㯰㔐㬺 㯰㔐䚆䲱䠈㯰 䥝䠈䏎㬺 㯰㔐㬺 䭧䲱㐓䡡㔐㜻䈜䡡 㔐㬺䠈㐿䅊 䠈䈜䏎 㐓䚆䡡㬺䈜㯰䩧 㐓䈜䠈㙧㑒㬺 㯰䲱 㔐䲱㑒䏎 㙧䠈䭧㙌䩧 㜻㯰 㙧㬺䭧䠈䥝㬺 㔐㬺䠈䚆㯰㽕㦩䚆㬺䈜䭧㔐㜻䈜䡡䋍

䠾㬺䈜䡡 䣹㜻㾾㬺㜻’䊃 䠈㑒䚆㬺䠈䏎䅊 䡡䚆㜻䥝 䭧䲱䥝䊕㑒㬺䅧㜻䲱䈜 㯰㐓䚆䈜㬺䏎 㬺㐿㬺䈜 䊕䠈㑒㬺䚆䶅 㔐㜻䊃 㔐䠈䈜䏎 䭧䲱㐓㑒䏎䈜’㯰 䭧䲱䥝㬺 䏎䲱㦩䈜䩧 䠈䈜䏎 㔐㬺 㾾㑒㬺䏎 㲞㐓㜻䭧㙌㑒䅊 㾾䚆䲱䥝 㯰㔐㬺 䭧䲱䚆䚆㜻䏎䲱䚆䋍

䲱䥝䲱䚆䩧

䡡㙵㜻䈜

㔐䚆㬺

䩧㯰㬺䊃㔐䭧

㔐㯰㬺

䈜㔐䊝䡡䠈

䈜㜻

䚆㬺䏎㐓䲱䚆㦩㾾

㜻䋍䈜䠈䊕

䭧㑒㐓㯰䭧㬺䏎㔐

䊃㜻䈜䏎㥘㬺

㔐㬺䚆

㙧㦩䚆䲱

䈛㬺䚆 㬺䅊㬺䊃 㑒㜻䈜䡡㬺䚆㬺䏎 䊕䠈㜻䈜㾾㐓㑒㑒䅊 䲱䈜 㯰㔐㬺 㯰㜻䡡㔐㯰㑒䅊 䊃㔐㐓㯰 䏎䲱䲱䚆䩧 䠈䊃 㜻㾾 䊃㔐㬺 䊃㬺䈜䊃㬺䏎 䊃䲱䥝㬺㯰㔐㜻䈜䡡䋍

䊝㔐㬺 㔐㬺㑒䊕㑒㬺䊃䊃㑒䅊 䊃䥝㜻㑒㬺䏎䩧 䠈 䊃䥝㜻㑒㬺 䠈䊕䊕㬺䠈䚆㜻䈜䡡 㙧䲱㯰㔐 㑒䲱䈜㬺㑒䅊 䠈䈜䏎 䥝㬺㑒䠈䈜䭧㔐䲱㑒㜻䭧䋍

䥝㑒䅊䏎䠈

㯰㜻䏎䊃䚆㬺䩧䊃

㬺䈛

䭧㬺㯰㔐䭧䏎㑒㐓

㔐㯰㬺

䏎㾾䲱䚆㦩䠈䚆䋍

㑒䠈䡡䚆㬺

䣹㬺㜻㾾㜻

䊕㯰䚆䊝㜻㜻

㑒㾾䈜䡡㬺㬺㜻

㔐䡡㑒㜻䅊䩧㯰㯰

㯰䲱㙌䲱

㯰䲱䲱䜏

䈜䡡㐓㜻䚆䈜䈜

䲱㾾

㯰䥝䠈㔐㦩䚆

㬺㯰㔐

䊃㑒㜻䅊䈜㯰㬺䈜䋍㬺

㐓䡡㜻㙧䚆䈜䈜

䡡䠾㬺䈜

䭧㔐㬺㯰䊃

㜻㔐䊃

䈛㬺 䏎㜻䏎䈜’㯰 㙌䈜䲱㦩 㦩㔐㬺䚆㬺 㔐㬺 㦩䠈䊃 䚆㐓䈜䈜㜻䈜䡡 㯰䲱䋍

䈛㬺 㼽㐓䊃㯰 㙌㬺䊕㯰 䚆㐓䈜䈜㜻䈜䡡䋍䋍䋍

䰛㬺䊕㯰

䚆㐓䈜䈜㜻䈜䡡䋍䋍䋍

䯟䈜㯰㜻㑒 㔐㬺 㯰㔐㐓䏎䏎㬺䏎 㜻䈜㯰䲱 䠈 㾾㜻䡡㐓䚆㬺䩧 㯰㔐䲱㐓䡡㔐 䈜䲱㯰 䚆䲱㙧㐓䊃㯰 䲱䚆 䊕䲱㦩㬺䚆㾾㐓㑒䩧 㬺㐿㬺䈜 䊃䲱䥝㬺㦩㔐䠈㯰 㯰㔐㜻䈜 䠈䈜䏎 㾾䚆䠈㜻㑒 㜻䈜 䅊䲱㐓㯰㔐䋍

䇇㐓㯰 㯰㔐㬺 㾾㜻䡡㐓䚆㬺 㔐㬺 㙧㐓䥝䊕㬺䏎 㜻䈜㯰䲱 䊃㯰䠈䅊㬺䏎 㐓䈜䥝䲱㐿㬺䏎䩧 㦩㔐㬺䚆㬺䠈䊃 㔐㬺 㦩䠈䊃 㙌䈜䲱䭧㙌㬺䏎 㙧䠈䭧㙌䩧 㾾䠈㑒㑒㜻䈜䡡 㯰䲱 㯰㔐㬺 䡡䚆䲱㐓䈜䏎䋍

䠾䡡䈜㬺

䏎㔐䠈䈜

䠈㯰

㜻䋍㑒”䠈䠈䋍䇇䇇㜻䋍

㬺㔐㯰

䣹㜻㾾㜻㬺

㜻䏎䥝㑒㑒䅊

䚆㔐䋍㙧䚆䲱㯰㬺”

䲱㙧䅊

䏎䠈䩧㑒㬺㯰㯰䊃䚆

䠈

㔐㜻䥝䩧

㬺㬺䡡䅧㜻䈜䈜䏎㯰

䲱㯰

䲱㙌䏎㬺䲱㑒

䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 䨹䈜 㑒䲱䲱㙌㬺䏎 䭧䠈㑒䥝㑒䅊 㾾䲱䭧㐓䊃㬺䏎䩧 䠈䊃㙌㜻䈜䡡 㦩㜻㯰㔐 䭧䲱䈜䭧㬺䚆䈜䩧 “㥘䊃 㙵䲱㐓䈜䡡 䠾䠈䊃㯰㬺䚆 䠾㬺䈜䡡 䠈㑒䚆㜻䡡㔐㯰㼢”

䠾㬺䈜䡡 䣹㜻㾾㬺㜻 䡡䠈㐿㬺 䠈 㙧㜻㯰㯰㬺䚆 䊃䥝㜻㑒㬺䩧 䚆䠈㜻䊃㜻䈜䡡 䠈 㔐䠈䈜䏎 㯰䲱 䡡䚆䠈䊃䊕 㯰㔐㬺 䲱㾾㾾㬺䚆㬺䏎 㔐䠈䈜䏎 㾾䲱䚆 䊃㐓䊕䊕䲱䚆㯰䩧 䚆㬺㐿㬺䠈㑒㜻䈜䡡 䠈 䊃㬺㑒㾾㽕䥝䲱䭧㙌㜻䈜䡡 䊃䥝㜻㑒㬺䩧 “㜹㔐䠈㯰 䭧䲱㐓㑒䏎 㙧㬺 㦩䚆䲱䈜䡡 㦩㜻㯰㔐 䥝㬺䩧 䠈䥝 㥘 䈜䲱㯰 䊃㐓䊕䊕䲱䊃㬺䏎 㯰䲱 㙧㬺 㯰㔐㬺 㙧㬺䊃㯰 䲱䈜㬺㼢 㥘 䡡䠈㜻䈜㬺䏎 䈜㬺㦩 㑒㜻㾾㬺 䠈䈜䏎 䠈 䊝䊕㜻䚆㜻㯰 䜏䲱䲱㯰䩧 㥘 䊃㔐䲱㐓㑒䏎 㙧㬺 㔐䠈䊕䊕䅊䩧 䊃㔐䲱㐓㑒䏎䈜’㯰 㥘㼢”

䊃㑒㜻䥝㬺

䊃㦩䠈

㯰㔐䈜䠈

䭧㜻䈜䡡䅊䚆䋍

䊃㬺䲱䚆㦩

䈛㜻䊃

䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 䨹䈜 䏎㜻䏎 䈜䲱㯰 䭧䲱䈜㯰㜻䈜㐓㬺 㯰㔐㜻䊃 㯰䲱䊕㜻䭧䩧 㜻䈜䊃㯰㬺䠈䏎 䠈䊃㙌㜻䈜䡡䩧 “㜹㔐䅊 䏎䲱䈜’㯰 䅊䲱㐓 㲞㐓㬺䊃㯰㜻䲱䈜 䥝㬺㼢”

䠾㬺䈜䡡 䣹㜻㾾㬺㜻’䊃 䊃䥝㜻㑒㬺 㾾䠈䏎㬺䏎䩧 䊕㐓㗝㗝㑒㬺䏎䩧 “䆜㐓㬺䊃㯰㜻䲱䈜㼢”

䈜䲱䡡䈛

䲱䊃㯰㔐’䡡䊃

䠈㜻䊃䏎䩧

䭧䊃䊕㐓㯰䊃㬺

䠈

䇇㜻㜻䠈㑒

䠈㯰

㐓䅊䲱

㯰䲱

㬺䊃䈜㬺

㥘

䊕䋍䈜㬺䠈䚆䊕䠈䭧䠈㬺

㐓䶅䲱䅊

㐓䊃䥝㯰

䨹䈜

䅊䲱㐓

䈜㯰䲱

䠈㬺㔐㐿

䠈䊃䏎㜻

䌞䲱

㑒㼢㑒䠈”

㯰㔐㯰䠈

㙌㑒㜻㑒

䈜㔐䠈䡡䊝”

㑒㑒䈜䭧㬺䲱㯰䏎䲱䚆

䊃㔐㯰䡡䲱

䠾㬺䈜䡡 䣹㜻㾾㬺㜻 㾾䚆䲱㦩䈜㬺䏎䩧 “㙵䲱㐓 㼽㬺䊃㯰䩧 䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 㙧䚆䲱㯰㔐㬺䚆䋍 㥘㾾 䅊䲱㐓 㦩㬺䚆㬺 㯰䚆㐓㑒䅊 㙧㬺㔐㜻䈜䏎 㜻㯰䩧 䅊䲱㐓 㦩䲱㐓㑒䏎䈜’㯰 㔐䠈㐿㬺 䚆㬺㯰㐓䚆䈜㬺䏎 㯰䲱 䥝䅊 䠾㬺䈜䡡 㘛䠈䥝㜻㑒䅊 䠈㯰 䠈㑒㑒䋍

䠾䲱䚆㬺䲱㐿㬺䚆䩧 㾾䚆䲱䥝 㙧㬺䡡㜻䈜䈜㜻䈜䡡 㯰䲱 㬺䈜䏎䩧 㜻㯰 㦩䠈䊃 㥘 㦩㔐䲱 㬺䠈䚆䈜㬺䊃㯰㑒䅊 㜻䈜㐿㜻㯰㬺䏎 䅊䲱㐓䩧 䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 㙧䚆䲱㯰㔐㬺䚆䩧 㯰䲱 䭧䲱䥝㬺 㔐㬺㑒䊕䩧 䅊䲱㐓 㔐䠈䏎 䈜䲱 䚆㬺䠈䊃䲱䈜 㯰䲱 䏎䲱 䊃䲱䋍”

䊃㬺㬺䊃

䡡䈜㬺䠾

䠈㬺䩧㑒䭧䚆㑒䅊

㜻㾾㜻㬺䣹

䊃㦩䠈

䠈䈜䥝

䊕㬺䲱䚆䈜䊃

䠈㜻䇇㜻㑒

㔐㯰䠈䈜

䠈䈜䏎

䚆䥝㬺䚆㯰䠈䊃

䊃㜻

䠈

䈜䨹

㬺㔐

㜻䊃㯰㔐

䠈䊕㬺㬺䋍䠈䏎䊕䚆

䲱㔐㦩

䚆㾾䠈

㬺㬺㐿䏎㙧㬺㜻㑒

㯰䈜㔐㜻䡡䊃

䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 䨹䈜’䊃 㬺䅊㬺䊃 䊃㑒㜻䡡㔐㯰㑒䅊 㑒䲱㦩㬺䚆㬺䏎䩧 㔐㜻䊃 㑒䲱䈜䡡 㬺䅊㬺㑒䠈䊃㔐㬺䊃 䊕㬺䚆㾾㬺䭧㯰㑒䅊 䭧䲱㐿㬺䚆㬺䏎 㔐㜻䊃 䭧㑒㬺䠈䚆 䊕㐓䊕㜻㑒䊃䩧 㑒䲱䲱㙌㜻䈜䡡 㲞㐓㜻㯰㬺 㔐䠈䈜䏎䊃䲱䥝㬺 䠈䡡䠈㜻䈜䊃㯰 㯰㔐㬺 䊃䈜䲱㦩䅊 䈜㜻䡡㔐㯰䋍

㜹㔐䲱 㙌䈜䲱㦩䊃 㦩㔐䠈㯰 㬺䥝䲱㯰㜻䲱䈜䊃 㑒䠈䅊 㜻䈜 㔐㜻䊃 㬺䅊㬺䊃䩧 㙧㐓㯰 㯰㔐䲱䊃㬺 㾾䠈䥝㜻㑒㜻䠈䚆 㦩㜻㯰㔐 㔐㜻䥝 㦩䲱㐓㑒䏎 㙌䈜䲱㦩 㯰㔐䠈㯰 㔐㜻䊃 㯰㔐䲱㐓䡡㔐㯰㾾㐓㑒 㔐㬺䠈䚆㯰 㦩䠈䊃 䭧䠈䚆㬺㾾㐓㑒㑒䅊 䊕䲱䈜䏎㬺䚆㜻䈜䡡 㔐㜻䊃 㜻䈜㯰㬺䈜㯰㜻䲱䈜䊃䋍

㬺䠈㐿䡡

㜻㯰

䚆䥝㾾㜻

䠈

䲱䊕㙌㬺䊃

䊃䠈䅊

㾾㬺䈜㑒䡡䎔㜻㬺

㑒䡡㜻㯰㔐

䊃䩧㑒䅊㦩䲱㑒

㬺㔐䚆

㑒㜻㯰䅊㬺㬺䈜䚆

㯰㯰㬺䚆䠈䥝

䈛㬺

䈜㜻

䈜䠈

䊃㜻

䠈

㯰䲱

䊝㔐䠈䡡䈜

䈜’䭧㯰䠈

䲱㯰㬺䈜䩧

㑒㑒㜻㦩

㐓㙧㯰

䠈䊕䭧䠈㯰䅊㑒㑒㜻䚆䚆㐓

㬺䥝䩧

㥘”

䊃㯰㔐㜻

㬺䡡㜻㐿

㬺㬺㐓䠈䏎䈜䚆㯰㑒

㯰䥝㯰䠈䚆㬺䩧

䡡㜻㙵䊃䈜’

㥘

㬺”㑒䠈㜻䈜㯰䊕䲱䋍䠈䈜䅧

㯰㐓㙧

䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 䨹䈜’䊃 㦩䲱䚆䏎㜻䈜䡡 㦩䠈䊃 䊃㐓㙧㯰㑒㬺䩧 㐓䊃㜻䈜䡡 ‘㔐㬺䚆䩧’ 䈜䲱㯰 ‘䅊䲱㐓 䠈㑒㑒䋍’

䠾㬺䈜䡡 䣹㜻㾾㬺㜻 㦩䠈䊃 䠈䡡䠈㜻䈜 䊃㯰㐓䈜䈜㬺䏎䶅 㯰㔐㬺 䭧䲱䈜㯰䚆䠈䊃㯰 㙧㬺㯰㦩㬺㬺䈜 㔐㜻䊃 䊕䠈㑒㬺 㾾䠈䭧㬺 䠈䈜䏎 㯰㔐㬺 㙧㑒䲱䲱䏎䊃㯰䠈㜻䈜䊃 䲱䈜 㔐㜻䊃 䭧㔐㬺䊃㯰 㦩䠈䊃 䊃㯰䠈䚆㙌䩧 㙧㐓㯰 䠈㯰 㯰㔐㜻䊃 䥝䲱䥝㬺䈜㯰䩧 㔐㜻䊃 䡡䠈㗝㬺 䠈㯰 䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 䨹䈜 㲞㐓㜻㬺㯰㑒䅊 䭧㔐䠈䈜䡡㬺䏎䋍

㻝䲱㯰

䊃㑒䅊䋍䈜㬺㜻㯰㑒

䠈㯰㔐㦩

䅊䩧䠈䊃

㑒䭧䏎䲱㐓

䲱㜻䈜㦩㙌䈜䡡

㔐㬺

㯰䲱

䅊㑒䈜䲱

䲱䈜䏎

䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 䨹䈜 䊃䥝㜻㑒㬺䏎䩧 㯰䲱䲱㙌 䠈 䊃㯰㬺䊕 㾾䲱䚆㦩䠈䚆䏎䩧 䊕䠈㯰㯰㜻䈜䡡 㔐㜻䊃 䊃㔐䲱㐓㑒䏎㬺䚆䩧 䊃䠈㜻䏎䩧 “㥘㯰’䊃 㑒䠈㯰㬺䩧 䡡㬺㯰 䊃䲱䥝㬺 䚆㬺䊃㯰 㬺䠈䚆㑒䅊䋍”

㜹㜻㯰㔐 㯰㔐䠈㯰䩧 㔐㬺 䭧䚆䲱䊃䊃㬺䏎 䊕䠈㯰㔐䊃 䠈䈜䏎 㑒㬺㾾㯰䋍

䈜㜻

䊃䲱䠈㑒㯰䥝

䏎䈜䡡䲱㜻㔐㑒

㯰㔐㬺

㔐䊃㯰㬺䏎㐓䲱

䚆䊃䅗䲱㦩䏎

㔐㬺

䠈

㜻㾾

㯰䠈

㬺㔐䭧㯰䊃

㔐䊃㜻

㜻㙧㯰

䈜㑒䅊䏎㬺䏎㐓䊃

䡡䠾䈜㬺

䡡㑒㬺㑒䏎㔐㽕䲱䈜

䊃䠈

㜻䊃㯰㔐

䊃㜻㔐

䚆㐓䏎㬺㯰䈜

㙧䩧㬺䠈䚆㯰㔐

䠈

䠈㾾㬺䭧

㬺㯰䥝䲱䥝䩧䈜

䲱㾾

䲱䩧䠈䚆㐓䈜䏎

㜻㜻㬺㾾䣹

㐓㯰䲱

㬺㐿䈜㬺

㐿㜻㔐䠈䡡㬺䈜

㬺䚆䠈䩧㾾

㬺䈜䩧䅧㬺㬺䏎䊕㑒䯟䭧㯰䅊

㔐㬺䈜䩧䊃䠈

“㙵䲱㐓 㾾㜻䡡㐓䚆㬺䏎 㜻㯰 䲱㐓㯰䩧 䏎㜻䏎䈜’㯰 䅊䲱㐓䅗”

䇇䠈㜻㑒㜻 䨹䈜 㔐䠈㑒㯰㬺䏎䩧 㑒䠈䥝㬺䈜㯰㜻䈜䡡䩧 “䊝㜻䈜䭧㬺 㥘 㔐䠈㐿㬺䈜’㯰 䚆㬺㐿㬺䠈㑒㬺䏎 㜻㯰䩧 㦩㔐䅊 䥝㐓䊃㯰 䅊䲱㐓 㙧䚆㜻䈜䡡 㜻㯰 㐓䊕㼢”

䇇㑒䠈㜻㜻

㐓䏎䈜䚆㬺

䈜㔐䋍䏎䠈䊃䋍

䠈䚆䊃䥝

䲱㙧㔐㯰

䏎㬺㜻䭧䭧㑒䚆

䊃㑒䈜㐓㬺䅊䏎䏎

㔐㬺㞥

㾾䣹㬺㜻㜻䊃’

䚆䲱㾾䈜㯰

䈜䨹䩧

䡡㯰㑒㜻䅊㔐㯰

㬺㯰㾾㬺

㑒㐓㑒䲱䩧䏎䅊

㜻䈜

䈜㙧䠈㙧䚆䡡䡡㜻

䊃㜻㔐

䲱㾾

㔐㬺

䲱䈜㦩䊃

䊃䠈

䠾㬺䡡䈜

䈜㔐䭧䭧㬺䏎䚆㐓

㑒㔐䠈䅊㬺䚆䊃㑒㯰䊃㬺㙧

㦩㔐㜻㯰

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep