After delivering that palm strike, Wen Ya felt an agonizing pain in her chest. She gave a muffled groan, feeling as though her heart were about to burst, and clutched her chest, her delicate brows knitting. Even Xishi clutching her heart could not have surpassed her exquisite beauty. A shadow fell across her eyes. Enduring the pain, Wen Ya raised her head, only to discover that Hu Xiaotian, whom she had just knocked down, had already scrambled to his feet. The front of his robe was torn completely open, exposing the sculpted muscles beneath. His eyes fixed on her chest, his gaze burning and crazed, while his handsome face twisted into a terrifying grimace.
Wen Ya bit her lip and forced herself to forget the pain in her chest. Her movements had reopened the wound at her left wrist, and blood dripped steadily onto the frost-covered floor, like red plum blossoms blooming in all their vivid beauty-a desolate loveliness beyond description. Summoning every ounce of strength, she punched toward Hu Xiaotian's jaw, intending to knock him unconscious with a single blow. But the unbearable pain and the rapid depletion of her internal power made her movements clumsy and slow.
Hu Xiaotian opened his bloodred eyes. His hand hooked like a bird's talon, he seized Wen Ya's wrist. Under his powerful grip, even more blood flowed from her wound. Wen Ya raised her leg to kick him, but before her foot could reach him, Hu Xiaotian shoved her away. She flew as though riding clouds and mist, landing on the Jade Bed. The back of her head struck the headboard hard, sending golden stars dancing before her eyes.
Like a man possessed, Hu Xiaotian lunged forward. Before Wen Ya could rise from the bed, he pinned her wrists against it with