I Married A Disabled Tyrant After Transmigrating

Seven Dragons (1)

Mister Long was desperately suppressing the curse within his body. He heard someone rambling on about their plans for the future in his ear, and the trace of consciousness he managed to regain seemed to become a little blurry again.

Had he misheard?

He must have misheard. How on earth would this chongxi bride-of-convenience not mind his current state? She was still crying non-stop just a few days ago—how could she have changed so quickly?

Mister Long tried with all his might to quash the strange feelings that welled up from the depths of his heart. Feeling both expectant and afraid, he tried desperately to brainwash himself.

It’s impossible, he was a wasted dragon now; his tail was rotten, his horns were gone and there were curse marks all over his body. How would she not despise such an ugly and unpleasant smelling existence.

Even when he looked his best, no one had ever treated him with genuine sincerity. This person must have approached him with some ulterior motive…

Her feeding him congee so gently just now must have all been an act.

Though the tyrant did not know what Mu Wanwan had to gain from pretending to act this way—even he himself did not know what he had left for others to plot and scheme over.

His cultivation base was almost all sealed, he was under a curse, and his most precious horns and tail tip were gone. After his defeat, his wealth had been taken away, and all his authority and power were also gone because he had trusted the wrong person. If forced to find something left on him that could still be considered valuable, it would probably have to be the original core which was broken into several pieces.

Oh, if his bones were used to make soup, it should taste pretty good too—only, he didn’t know if the curses of the abyssal devils had carved onto his bones.

Mister Long thought a little sarcastically to himself. But no matter what he thought, Mu Wanwan was oblivious to all of it. She listed all the hardships to come in their future, and made careful calculations as to how she was to allocate the monthly budget reasonably. Her voice was very soft, and like a pervasive fire that could find its way through every crack, it melted the guard Mister Long struggled to build bit by bit.

“It is mid-October now. The monthly budget is only so little, and there’s not much spiritual grains too.” As Mu Wanwan pondered over the three meals a day from now onwards, she suddenly thought of something. She abruptly reached out and touched Mister Long’s exposed abdomen. She was relieved to find that other than tightly packed abdominal muscles being there, it was only a little shrunken.

Her movements were actually very light, but when the delicate touches that brought with them some body heat suddenly fell on Mister Long, who had never had close contact with anyone else other than when he was fighting, they felt like several thunderous fireworks with little tingly currents, immediately blasting him senseless.

She touched him!

That was the only thought left in his mind. It took a long time before Mister Long managed to hear what she carried on saying next——

“It’s a little sunken, but your stomach doesn’t seem to have been hurt,” Mu Wanwan said to herself. “Then, you can eat other things too, I guess. I just don’t know what the seeds in that bag are; it would be good if it’s a vegetable…”

Was she making sure that his stomach was okay?

A strange feeling slowly rose in him, and the tyrant’s eyelashes quivered unceasingly. He explained silently in his heart that, unlike other dragons, his stomach was a little sunken just like this when he was in his half-dragon form.

Because he didn’t have enough to eat when he was young, his stomach was also very small after growing up.

The unpleasant memory, along with the itching and pain of his dragon tail, seemed to provide a sliver of opportunity that the curse of the abyssal devils could exploit, and it wreaked havoc in the tyrant’s limbs incessantly.

Mister Long struggled desperately to suppress the pain in his meridians; his complexion was deathly pale, and he had broken out in a cold sweat.

Mu Wanwan noticed that his brows were even more tightly furrowed than usual. Her eyes fell upon the little black bugs that kept scurrying in and out of his half-decayed tail, and her scalp grew numb.

“Is it very painful?” She pumped herself up and declared, “I’ll help right away.”

Mu Wanwan stood up a little hurriedly. She remembered that there were some knives and gauze in the side hall. The wound on Mister Long’s tail could not be left alone any longer; she also had to get some hot water.

But her disordered footsteps and breathing were like sharp swords, shattering the tyrant’s just-rising expectations.

Sure enough, she was only pretending.

Listen to that frightened tone of hers.

She was probably frightened by his appearance. Everything she said earlier was indeed all an act!

The tyrant sneered in his heart. He could feel pus and bloody scales flowing continuously from that horrible tail, and the black and red curse marks that were constantly undulating; how utterly disgusting.　　

Even he felt that he was revolting, so why should he have any expectations?　　

Footnotes:

1 dantian: Dantian refers to the elixir-of-life field where “essence” and “spirit” are stored. Traditionally, a dantian is considered to be a centre of qi or life force energy.