Cultivation with Inner Demons, Soul Compatibility Is 100%

The moon on the top of the cliff seemed to have been bitten by someone. It was missing just right, and it poured cold light on the "corpse" on the edge of the cliff. Lin Xuan was lying on his back, with his Nascent Soul half floating out of the Tianling Cap, twitching like a dying silver fish. "Hey, our senior brother is also here today?" Zhao Wujiu knelt down and crushed Lin Xuan's face with the sole of his boot - the sole was stained with night dew, mixed with mud, and the newly stepped flowers tonight, so pink and greasy, like rouge on a dead person. "The skin is so good, it would be a pity to ruin it." As he spoke, he took out a dark gold dagger. The blade was so thin that it could be used as a mirror, reflecting the cinnabar mole on Lin Xuan's forehead. The dagger moved in circles against his face, and as soon as the blood droplets appeared, he smeared it on his lips and smacked his lips: "It's sweet, it's really exciting." The humiliation is not over yet. Zhao Wujiu opened Lin Xuan's mouth and poured in the half-pot of cold "Drunken Spring Brew" - the most inferior wine in the sect. The wine poured down his chin and into his collar. Wherever it passed, spiderweb-like red lines appeared on his skin, as if countless ants were worshiping in his blood vessels. "Enjoy it slowly, junior brother, I will go first." He stood up and kicked the "corpse" off the cliff. The moment Lin Xuan fell, Zhao Wujiu raised his little finger at him - that was the most poisonous taunt in the sect: after tonight, you are not even worthy of being a cauldron. The wind screamed in my ears. Lin Xuan's Nascent Soul was entangled by a darker shadow: the inner demon is coming, as punctual as a funeral bell.