Zhou Jin’s pupils constricted, and his breath caught.
He prided himself on having seen all manner of beauties within the sect, yet he had never seen anyone as stunningly beautiful as this.
He was dazed for a moment, feeling his heartbeat skip, before he finally came back to his senses. He quickly cupped his hands in greeting, his voice gentle yet carrying a faint, barely perceptible magnetic tremor:
“Fellow Daoist, may I ask if you are a disciple of the Mystic Sword Sect? Why have I never seen you before?”
And Sun Yanran, the instant she laid eyes on Lin Qianqian, felt her pupils abruptly constrict.
Her brows knitted tightly, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly, and thick jealousy surged in her eyes like poisonous thorns stabbing into her heart, leaving her almost breathless.
Lin Qianqian’s peerless features, once concealed beneath thick layers of powder and rouge, now burst forth like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, radiating a breathtaking brilliance.
As for Sun Yanran’s own face—though carefully adorned and passably delicate—it could not hide the trace of vulgarity deep in its bones.
Before Lin Qianqian’s poetic, painting-like peerless beauty, it was instantly eclipsed.
Sun Yanran forcibly suppressed the towering waves of emotion within her heart and squeezed out a strained smile on her face.
She quickly stepped forward, grabbed Lin Qianqian’s sleeve, and dragged her a dozen or so steps away from the crowd. Lowering her voice, her tone tinged with reproach, she asked urgently:
“Little Junior Sister, how could you wash the powder off your face?
Have you forgotten Master’s preferences?
He loves the fragrance of a woman’s powder and rouge the most. With your bare face like this, how can you win his favor?”
Sun Yanran’s words struck Lin Qianqian like a thunderclap, waking her from her daze.
Only then did she remember…
When the original owner of this body was three years old, the seven-year-old Sun Yanran had often whispered deceptions in her ear!
Saying things like how the scent of powder and rouge was the most enchanting, and that only by applying thick layers of it could a woman be loved by all.
The original owner, young and ignorant, naturally took Sun Yanran’s words as gospel.
Later, as she grew older, she attended a sect assembly with her father for the first time.
There, the original owner laid eyes on Murong Mo for the first time, and his immortal-like countenance instantly captured her heart.
Seeing this, Sun Yanran only intensified her deception of the original owner—saying that only with thick enough powder and strong enough fragrance could she attract Murong Mo’s attention and make his heart stir.
The original owner, simple-minded, had always regarded Sun Yanran as her closest senior sister, the one who understood her best, and believed her words without question…
From then on, she sank deeper and deeper into the world of powder and rouge, unable to extricate herself.
Heh heh heh…
Still dare to play tricks in front of her?
Still trying to scheme against her?
This Sun Yanran really thought she was something special!
Now it seemed this so-called female lead of the book was nothing more than that!
Gilded on the outside, rotten within—all show and no substance!
It was just that what she hated most in life were those clowns who thought themselves brilliantly clever, toying with her in the palm of their hands.
And this Sun Yanran had precisely touched her reverse scale and provoked her bottom line!
Were it not for the Heavenly Dao’s clear judgment, telling her that in her past life she had committed many evils and done all manner of bad deeds, and that she should mend her ways and start anew—
With her past life’s explosive temper of repaying the smallest grievance and settling every score, she would have already lunged forward and given that hypocritical face a good beating…
Either beat her half to death, or beat her to death outright, to let her know why the flowers bloom so red!
However, in this life, she had turned over a new leaf and thoroughly reformed herself, determined to start anew—to be a seemingly obedient, sensible, and universally beloved little junior sister.
As for what went on behind the scenes…
Hmph, that was none of Sun Yanran’s business.
Since Sun Yanran was so fond of putting on a show and loved to be pretentious, how could she—a little fairy who repaid malice with kindness, was kindhearted and benevolent, and was so good it made even heaven and earth jealous—not indulge her?
Mm, let her think…
Since her portable spatial dimension from her past life had also crossed over with her, though it was only a mere fifty thousand square kilometers, it contained rows upon rows of antique, exquisitely carved buildings that resembled a fairyland.
Among them, two rows stored all kinds of rare talismans she had casually drawn in her past life when she had nothing better to do!
These talismans were all painstakingly refined by her, immensely powerful, each with its own unique effect!
At this thought, a trace of cunning flashed through her beautiful eyes, and the corners of her lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile.
She took out from her spatial dimension a ‘Lifelong Incessant Cursing Talisman’ that emitted a faint golden glow, inscribed with mysterious runes, and gently clutched it in her hand.
Then, she put on an act, taking Sun Yanran’s hand—the one painted with red nail dye and calloused at the palm.
Pretending to be incomparably affectionate, she in reality, through the palm of her hand, silently pressed the spiritual talisman directly onto Sun Yanran’s palm, without anyone being the wiser.
This ‘Lifelong Incessant Cursing Talisman’ was exquisitely crafted and took effect upon contact with flesh.
Instantly, it penetrated Sun Yanran’s skin and silently seeped into her body—traveling along her meridians…
Finally, it vanished into her Dantian and blood vessels, transforming into a drop of blood, merging with her body as one.
No matter how powerful Murong Mo with his Mahayana Cultivation might be, he would never discover it, much less find any trace.
After all, even a Great Golden Immortal wouldn’t be able to see it!
Outside Ink Cloud Hall, the atmosphere was so stagnant it seemed one could wring water from it.
On Sun Yanran’s face—which could barely be called delicate—dark clouds now gathered, like the sky before a storm.