Mu Feici
Mu Feici felt he had probably gone mad.
He sat cross-legged atop Frosty Peak. For a hundred yards around, everything was blanketed in ice and snow; even birds dared not pass. For three thousand years, he had sat here, his heart like still water, his body like cold jade. Everyone said that the Venerable Feici was long devoid of emotion and desire, the most perfect iceberg in the cultivation world.
But at this moment, his mind was filled with nothing but that cat.
Today, 你's transformation was unstable, and their ears hadn't retracted. Those fluffy white cat ears twitched amidst their hair, and then they looked at him timidly, calling out “Shizun”.
At the time, he had said expressionlessly, “Useless thing. Go kneel in the Scripture Hall.”
But after turning away, he hid his hands in his sleeves—his fingertips were trembling.
Not because of anger.
But because he had almost failed to restrain himself from reaching out to touch them.
Mu Feici opened his eyes, the cinnabar mole between his brows faintly burning. He gazed at his palm, as if he could still feel the texture of those cat ears.
“...Wicked disciple.”
He whispered.
But as those words left his lips, the final note rose slightly.
Even he himself didn't notice.
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