Surprise! The Straight Man Long Aotian Actually Steals the Villain's Skirt - Chapter 7: The Saint of Southern Border Obsessed with Gu Poison 7

Chapter 7: The Saint of Southern Border Obsessed with Gu Poison 7

Xie Rong pinched the fabric and brought it to his nose, frowning.

Where was any trace of scented powder?

He turned to stare at Lu Yi.

He had never used any scented powder, yet this scoundrel dared to slander him.

What scented fragrance? It was clearly a mockery of his unclean clothes.

Xie Rong tilted his head with a smile. If that’s what you say, then isn’t this garment I’m wearing even less clean?

Lu Yi hesitated for a moment. Is it? Unwashed clothes naturally couldn’t be as clean as washed ones.

Xie Rong’s smile vanished. He tore a strip of cloth from the hem of his vest, fully exposing his previously half-revealed slender waist.

Lu Yi quickly averted his eyes.

This demon actually had such disgraceful morals!

Pry open his mouth, Lu Yi only heard a cold command before two drug slaves roughly forced his mouth open. They stuffed the cloth strip—smeared with who-knows-how-much scented powder and worn by Xie Rong—into his mouth before releasing him.

Lu Yi’s mouth was completely filled with the soft fabric, unable to even spit it out. He dared not speak, afraid he might ingest the scented powder from the clothing into his stomach.

Watching the man in such a wretched state, Xie Rong finally vented his resentment. Propping his chin with one hand, the corners of his lips curled into a malicious arc that refused to fade.

But after waiting for a long while, he still didn’t hear the prompt for mission progress.

The man knelt at his feet, eyes bloodshot, sweating profusely, staring fixedly at him while emitting muffled, ragged breaths from his throat.

You… you actually laced your clothes with Gu… despicable… frivolous…

System, Xie Rong asked indifferently, what is he saying?

He says you’re seducing him.

Xie Rong raised an eyebrow.

Who but a homosexual would think a man was seducing him?

His Homosexual Love Gu had successfully taken effect.

He never expected a semi-finished insect egg to be so useful.

Xie Rong was very satisfied.

Whether cultivating in his past life or practicing Gu cultivation in this one, as long as he put his mind to it, he could achieve perfection.

In his past life, his master always said he would have a boundless future and accomplish great deeds.

But what did it matter?

He still ended up as a stepping stone for the protagonist, in the past life and now.

The shining son of heaven falls from grace, wallows in degradation, and ultimately either gets redeemed by the protagonist to become a mediocre follower or dies at the hands of the righteous protagonist, leaving behind nothing but sighs.

Such a plot must be what many love to see, right?

But why did it have to be him?

Why should everything he painstakingly achieved serve to elevate others?!

Xie Rong’s previously smiling eyes gradually darkened. He drew the leather whip from his waist, stood up, and stopped before Lu Yi.

Their eyes met. Xie Rong curved his eyes at him, then suddenly lashed the whip across the man’s body with his right hand.

A crimson whip mark split open the flesh on the man’s bulging chest.

Lu Yi grunted, looked up, his chest muscles heaving violently as he stared directly at him.

Protagonist’s pain value +1

Xie Rong delivered two more lashes, then suddenly lost interest. He tossed the whip aside, his eyes reddening at the corners as he glared at them. Get out, all of you! Get out!

In Rosy Valley, no one dared to cross him. The bamboo door opened and closed, leaving him alone.

System detects host’s emotional levels have reached critical threshold. Suspend mission?

Xie Rong closed his eyes and leaned back in the armchair, one hand supporting his head, the other resting on the armrest. His pale fingers tapped slowly against the armrest, ignoring the cold electronic voice of the main system in his mind.

After a moment, he softly exhaled, the crimson at the corners of his eyes fading as he reached up to retrieve a bamboo tube hanging in the room and pricked his fingertip.

The gu worm inside the bamboo tube, catching the familiar scent of blood, wriggled its plump body out and coiled around his fingertip to feed.

Once it finished eating, the gu worm affectionately nuzzled the crevices between his fingers before obediently crawling back inside.

The white Slime on his shoulder couldn’t resist imitating the gu worm and rubbed against his cheek.

If Host is still unhappy… The system, its face still pressed against Xie Rong’s cheek, said shyly, I can sing a little tune for you.

Xie Rong grabbed the system and casually tossed it into a corner, paying it no further mind.

The bamboo house contained too many gu worms. By the time Xie Rong reached the later ones, he was too drowsy to keep his eyes open and had lost count. He randomly opened the next bamboo tube, only to have a white, plump Slime force its way out of the narrow opening, wriggling restlessly in his palm.

I’m also Host’s little gu worm!

Xie Rong pinched the system’s body, which had been deformed by the bamboo tube, the corners of his lips curling upward. Little gu worm system, you’re so well-behaved.

The white Slime covered its face, its body gradually turning pink.

Host, where are you going so late?

Xie Rong stepped out of the bamboo house, a malicious glint lifting his delicate brows. Of course, to have some fun with those pretending to sleep.

Tonight, Lu Yi wasn’t deliberately pretending to sleep.

Rather, the whip marks on his chest burned so fiercely that even with his eyes closed, sleep remained elusive. He had no idea what madness had seized the devil today.

Lu Yi had a tattered purple cloth strip tied around his wrist, as if torn from a garment.

It was no wonder he kept it on him—who knew if the devil would whip him again upon discovering he’d lost it.

Lu Yi applied medicine to his chest with an expressionless face, lying on the bed with closed eyes but finding no rest.

In the darkness, the sound of the door opening was particularly abrupt.

He subtly slowed his breathing, his hand clenching at his side.

A warm, soft body, carrying that familiar cloying fragrance, slipped under his covers once more and climbed onto his bed.

The devil sitting astride him tonight seemed slightly lighter than the night before.

The man waited for a long while, but Xie Rong didn’t kiss him.

Host, what are you looking for?

Sitting on the man’s firm abdomen, Xie Rong rummaged through the small pouch at his waist for a long time before pulling out a small triangle folded from oilpaper.

He unhurriedly unfolded the oilpaper, pinched some of the salt wrapped inside, and gently pressed it onto the exposed whip marks on the man’s body.

The muscles beneath his fingertips instantly tensed, the heat under the covers rising. Xie Rong seemed oblivious, merely curling his lips as he crushed the salt into the wound, grinding it into the flesh.

Protagonist’s Pain Value +3

Xie Rong crumpled the oilpaper and casually tossed it under the bed. The pain he had bestowed upon the man tonight was enough to amuse him for now.

He leaned down, his nose touching the man’s, yet their lips remained a hair’s breadth apart, never making contact.

At such close range, he could clearly see every drop of sweat beading on the man’s forehead and temples from the strain of endurance.

But unlike the previous night, he didn’t press his lips to the man’s. Instead, his crimson lips parted slightly, and he blew a soft breath against the man’s face, so near.

Flirtatious, teasing, his slender and elegant form pressing down on the man in the dead of night, blowing air like a seductive ghost haunting a nightmare.

Xie Rong patted the man’s cheek, rose, threw off the covers, and left.

On the bed, Lu Yi clutched his chest, breathing rapidly, the wound both aching and itching.

The itching sensation seeped into his chest, spreading his limbs and bones, as if countless venomous insects were crawling through his meridians, making it unbearably through intolerable.

Lu Yi’s thick eyebrows cast shadows over his eyes. The lingering scent of another person in the bedding seemed to materialize, blurring the disgust and hatred in his gaze, drifting into the whites of his eyes and transforming into terrifying crimson blood vessels.

Beating him with a whip during the day, then sitting astride him at night to caress his wounds—

Slapping him only to offer a date afterward—how was this any different from the Swift Feather Guard’s methods of breaking prisoners?