Inside the Pear Garden.
The bride bit her lip tightly, as her delicate skin, soft as snow, had already been tinged with layers of flush.
It was also covered with fine beads of sweat.
She looked at Fang Yang with almost a pleading gaze, her heart tumultuous with uncertainty whether she wanted Fang Yang to increase or decrease the power of his divine touch.
After all, the sensation was far too entangling for her to bear.
"Tell this lord, where exactly is my disciple?"
Amidst the wild dance of his ink-black hair, Fang Yang repeated the question.
And this time, the bride had completely lost her ability to endure, perhaps commanded by her true self, she spoke out, exhausted,
"I... I'm not quite sure either. Three months ago, this place became forbidden territory. Your fifth disciple came here once and left after I extracted but a sliver of his soul. I'm merely using this fragment of soul to emanate the aura of your disciple, to lure you here. As for the rest, I know nothing..."
