Fierce Battle Behind the Curtains, Continuous Twists (Part 1)

The mist in the room had not yet dissipated, and the fragrance was pleasant, making one forget the worldly. Yet coupled with the situation at hand, any notion of pleasantness or worldliness completely changed its flavor. When Flower Lady fell onto the bed, half of the bed curtains fell away, blocking a small patch of lamp-light and casting a shadow across the bed. This shadow happened to conceal the sickly beauty sitting up at the head of the bed wrapped in a quilt, while at the edge of the shadow, Flower Lady's delicate head was buried behind the curtains, completely exposing her bare shoulders and back to the candlelight. Fine beads of sweat, seemingly born of fright and tension, shone with a pearl-like luster. Guiyan clicked his tongue repeatedly, one hand groping along Flower Lady's smooth back muscles while the other reached downward, untying the sash at her waist in two or three strokes as the thin gauze trousers slid down her legs. Flower Lady had completely lost control of her body, forced to let her beautiful form suffer humiliation, yet her mind was as calm as ice and snow, orderly probing the reason why she had been subdued beforehand: How can this person's demonic arts be even more unfathomable and bizarre than the legends say? It seems... it seems to point directly to the source of form and spirit, entirely breaking free from the conventions of ordinary dharma! Guiyan did not know Flower Lady's mental activities; his spirits were exceptionally high right now, and aside from roaming his hands all over her, he even began playing novel tricks. With a crisp smack, Flower Lady's round, plump, snowy rump took a heavy blow, and a low cry burst from the depths of her throat, carrying a tense, repressed, trembling note.