The True Face Beneath Eastern Emperor Douluo's Mask

In the spiritual world.

Lin Qingmo was numb.

It means numb in the literal sense.

If Spirit Body also has a nervous system, he's probably feeling numb from his scalp to his toes right now.

He watched as his dignified, aloof, and unpredictable Master, who usually felt it was a waste of his Soul Power to utter even a single extra word, did something to him that could not be explained by "deep affection between master and disciple."

He wanted to close his eyes.

But his spiritual perception wouldn't listen to him.

He wanted to plug his ears.

But those faint, suppressed murmurs, carrying a certain almost pious quality, pierced directly through the barrier of his consciousness.

I felt like an audience member strapped to the front row, forced to watch an immersive performance with myself as the protagonist.

There's no fast-forward button, no black screen, the picture quality is still ultra-high definition, and it even has full tactile feedback.

When it was finally all over.

Lin Qingmo thought the torture was over.

Then he saw his Master get up, fetch warm water, and use the softest towel to gently clean his body.

His movements were as meticulous as if he were repairing a peerless Soul Tool, leaving no inch untouched.

After cleaning him up, I helped him put on his clothes, smoothed out every wrinkle, and straightened his collar to the most upright position.

Finally, she lay back down beside herself, gently hugged her waist, rested her head on her chest, and let out a satisfied, very soft sigh.

"..."

She fell asleep.

He fell asleep just like that!

The mask was still on.

But his breathing was already as steady as a satisfied cat's.

"..."

Lin Qingmo's feelings were so complex that he himself could not describe them.

His Master.

The person who guided him from an unknown, hopeless teenager to the person he is today.

The mentor who provided crucial guidance whenever he encountered a bottleneck.

The woman he genuinely respected, appreciated, and even admired.

He just did that to himself.

What frustrated Lin Qingmo the most was—her Master was so skilled!

From initial control to pacing during the process, and finally to post-event cleanup and cleanup.

The entire process was completed smoothly and seamlessly, without any hesitation or unfamiliarity.

Their skill was so adept it was almost heartbreaking.

His skill was so great that it chilled Lin Qingmo the bone.

A terrifying question slowly surfaced in Lin Qingmo's mind, "Could this not be the first time?"

He recalled that he had once woken up in his Master's arms.

"Could it be that back then...?"

If Lin Qingmo could move right now, he would probably cover his face with his hands.

He suddenly understood Liu Erlong's feelings when facing Xiao Wu.

That feeling of guilt, like "I didn't do anything wrong, but I just feel so sorry for you."

That feeling of confusion. "What expression should I wear when I face you from now on?"

The problem is, at least Liu Erlong was the one being eavesdropped on; she was the one initiating it.

And I am the passive party.

He didn't even know how many times this had happened.

What confused him even more was that the comparison that popped into his mind when his Master acted was Qian Xunji.

The Secret Chamber Douluo, Qian Xunji!

The former Pope of the Spirit Hall, the man who committed countless evil deeds against his disciples.

Lin Qingmo let out a laugh in his mental world that was more painful than crying.

What a hellish joke!

Could his Master be a Qian Xunji?

But if he asked himself honestly, he couldn't bring himself to hate his Master.

He should be angry.

They should feel deceived, treated like playthings that can be manipulated at will.

But what flashed through his mind were his Master's patient guidance and quiet care every time.

When he was at his weakest, without even a single Spirit Ring, she descended from the sky and gave him everything.

It can be said that without his Master, there would be no Lin Qingmo today.

This kindness is genuine.

But this twisted possessiveness is also real.

Two realities were tearing him apart, leaving him feeling lost and confused.

I don't know how much time passed.

Lin Qingmo felt his fingers twitch.

Then there was a hand.

Next is the whole body.

The green light of the Blue Silver Tree of Life and Destruction flowed slowly within his body, gradually absorbing the residual paralysis effect of Bibi Dong's Soul Skill.

His bodily functions are recovering, and his senses are reconnecting.

He opened his eyes.

The room was dark, with only a sliver of moonlight filtering in through the gap in the curtains.

The Master was holding him.

To be precise, she was completely pressed against him.

One arm was wrapped around his waist, and the other was placed on his chest.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her warm, steady breaths rhythmically brushing against his collarbone.

The mask was still on his face.

But at such close range, Lin Qingmo could see the fine metallic patterns on it.

He could feel every curve of her body—soft and full, warm to the point of being scorching.

"Gulp!"

Lin Qingmo's apple bobbed.

I should have pushed him away.

You should stand up and loudly question your Master about why he did that.

But he didn't.

He simply stared at the face so close to his face with a complicated expression.

To be precise, it was looking at that mask.

Why does the Master always wear a mask?

He had never seen her face since the first day he met her.

The eyebrows and lips beneath the mask were indeed extremely beautiful; one could imagine that the rest of the face must have been absolutely stunning.

But why cover it up?

Is it a facial injury? Or is it to avoid being recognized?

Or perhaps she doesn't want to know who she is?

Lin Qingmo stared at the mask for a long time.

Then she did something that Bibi Dong would never have dared to do while she was sober.

He reached out, his fingertips gently gripping the edge of the mask, and lifted it upwards very slowly.

Lin Qingmo saw that beneath the mask was an exceptionally beautiful face!

"Hiss!"

My breath stopped for a moment.

Even with his eyes closed, he could tell how beautiful that face was.

Her lines were as smooth as a sculpture, and her skin was so white it was almost translucent.

Her eyelashes were long, casting two small fan-shaped shadows under her eyelids, trembling very slightly with her breathing, like butterfly wings resting on flower petals.

Her nose was high and delicate, her thin lips were slightly pursed, and there was a very subtle curve at the corners of her mouth, as if she were having a gentle dream.

A few strands of deep purple hair were scattered on the pillow, one of them clinging to the corner of her lips, rising and falling slightly with her breath.

The moonlight fell perfectly on her profile, like a thin layer of frosting, transforming the sharp, intimidating aura between her brows into a fragile tranquility.

Lin Qingmo unconsciously held her breath.

Looking at this face, I recalled what the owner of this face had just done to me.

This realization gave him a strange feeling.

He unconsciously leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better look.

Just then...

Bibi Dong's eyelashes trembled slightly.

Then, the two butterfly wings slowly unfolded.

What was revealed were a pair of purple eyes, so deep they seemed like two wells leading to another world.

A lingering sleepiness still lingered in her eyes, but her pupils were rapidly focusing, reflecting Lin Qingmo's face, which was so close to hers.

"..."

Their eyes met.

"..."

The world is silent.