I Want a Kiss! I Want Kisses!

"Can."

Wuma Xiu patted his head, his smile gentle.

Beside him, the Demon God's fingertip pierced his palm, and drops of golden Divine Blood dripped down between his fingers.

Sleep? With them... sleep!

She rejected him back then, but now she's with these two gods!

On what grounds? On what grounds!

The Demon God's chest heaved violently.

What had been almost suppressed suddenly burst into flames like wildfire doused with oil.

Why? Why them! Am I not good enough? What do I lack compared to them?!

"Or is it that I, a god, am unable to... satisfy you!"

The God of Misfortune stepped forward, blocking Wuma Xiu and the God of Poverty, and coldly uttered a single word:

"Roll."

These are his family members.

What kind of god is this, daring to use such foul language in front of them!

Under the gaze of three eyes, the Demon God calmed down slightly.

His gaze swept over the Lucky Star pinned to the waists of the God of Misfortune and the God of Poverty, and he let out a cold laugh:

"You're the ones who should get out."

He certainly knew those two gods.

One was dirt poor, the other brought bad luck wherever he went.

The Lucky Star could indeed protect them, but its effect would only last for a year. After a year, the Lucky Star would lose its power, and if these two gods remained by the Sea God's side, they would only harm him.

They had no idea what long-term protection meant; they were like two shooting stars, briefly streaking past the Sea God. Even if they illuminated the world for a moment, once they flew away, all that remained was an even larger black hole.

Only him...

He is the best to the Sea God!

"Demon... God, since that's what you think, then leave. Let's pretend we've never met."

Wuma Xiu's voice was very soft, as if it might be blown away by the wind at any moment.

He was even laughing.

But that smile, in the eyes of the Demon God, was sharper than any sword.

"In addition..."

Wuma Xiu suddenly turned his head and pulled the God of Misfortune close to him.

The God of Misfortune's pupils contracted sharply as he was pulled by the sudden force, his shoulder blade slamming into the other's chest, his heart pounding against his ribs. He could feel the other's breath so close, brushing against his lips.

Three seconds, maybe shorter, maybe longer.

Wuma Xiu suddenly let go, still smiling, but the smile was like a thin layer of ice barely frozen on the surface of a river in early winter. His eyes were already red, and the corners of his eyes looked as if someone had smeared a stroke of light cinnabar on them, as if he was forced to the extreme but still trying to maintain the last bit of dignity.

Even if I really wanted you, I would never want you.

The Demon God stared at him, his chest heaving violently.

But at that moment, he couldn't hear anything anyone said.

His mind was filled with that kiss, replaying it over and over again, frantically. It felt like a fire was burning from his heart to his throat, making his internal organs ache.

"You... you'll regret this!"

He practically roared those words, then, not daring to linger for another second, turned and vanished into the vast Sea of Stars.

The scent had completely faded away.

The surroundings finally quieted down.

Wuma Xiu watched the other person's retreating figure and silently shed tears.

This scene brought the God of Misfortune and the God of God of Poverty, who had been standing there in a daze, back to their senses; what had just happened seemed unimportant now.

They had never seen Sea God like this before.

In the God of God of Poverty's impression, the other party was gentle, warm, and tolerant... as if there was nothing in this Universe that he couldn't solve.

The Sea God he knew never shed tears.

But at this moment, the eyes behind those glasses were bloodshot, incredibly vulnerable.

"Hai, what's wrong? Did the Demon God do something to you while we weren't here?"

The God of Poverty grabbed his sleeve in a panic, his voice trembling.

The God of Misfortune stood aside for a long while before speaking:

I will kill him.

The God of Misfortune doesn't know how to offer comfort; he can only make this kind of promise.

He also had no distinction between good and evil.

He'll be good to whoever is good to him.

Anyone who hurts the god he wants to protect, he will kill.

They all say he is the God of Misfortune.

So even if the other person dies, they can only blame themselves for being cursed by bad luck.

"No need, this is fine."

The tears on Wuma Xiu's face were washed away by the light blue Divine Power. As if remembering something, he stiffly turned to the side.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I promised... I'd do you one thing, but... only within the limits of what I can do. If... you hate it, I'll prepare a separate Temple of Doom for you."

They just kissed, but there was a thin film of water between them. However, this film seemed almost nonexistent. Of course, this was because he wanted to maintain his divine persona; otherwise, if they had actually kissed directly, it wouldn't have been a problem.

The God of Misfortune, just regaining his senses, subconsciously touched his lips, and the belated warmth slowly crept onto his face.

The blush spread completely from the tips of her ears to her neck.

Just now, that feeling...

"No... it's nothing, I don't... mind it at all."

When the God of Misfortune spoke, his voice was still somewhat unsteady.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and a faint, lingering heat seemed to remain on the back of his tongue, making his words sound disjointed.

His gaze dared not fall on Wuma Xiu's face, but instead drifted vaguely toward a distant star that flickered between light and shadow.

"Also... we don't need the Temple of Doom."

As the God of Misfortune spoke, his other hand, hanging by his side, curled slightly, his fingertips digging into his palm with some force.

Her other hand remained behind her back, a Divine Power surging between her knuckles, causing the blush on her face to fade slightly. In no time, her face returned to its usual indifferent appearance.

"Also, if you want, I can."

He thought, as a friend, shouldn't I help him?

"Me too, I want a kiss too!"

The God of Poverty squeezed in front of Wuma Xiu, his eyes wide and bright, almost sparkling. He stood on tiptoe, his gaze fixed on the other's lips, his eyes direct and expectant.

His breathing became rapid, and his nostrils flared.

"One kiss! No, lots and lots of kisses! I... um!"

Before he could finish speaking, a hand grabbed him by the back of his collar.

The God of Misfortune grabbed the god of God of Poverty by the back of his collar.

"No nonsense."

Even as the God of Poverty was being carried, he still stubbornly turned his head.

He stared longingly at Wuma Xiu, his lips pursed as if he had suffered a great injustice, and his legs kicked wildly in the air, but he seemed unable to break free.

He could only lower his head and mutter softly:

"... You're so stingy. Why can you kiss, but I can't? Hai, we're friends too, we can kiss."

I want a kiss! I just want a kiss!

The God of Poverty attributed this to an act of intimacy between friends.