Chapter 410 19

"ah?"

Ah Zhao looked up at him in a daze, and belatedly realized that the other party was asking him to undress him.

"Oh." She responded.

He walked slowly to His Majesty the Demon King, and reached out to untie his belt.

The skirt fell off in an instant.

Then Ah Zhao stopped moving.

His Majesty the Demon King looked down at her.

Azhao looked back at the past with a pure face, and said in embarrassment: "Your Majesty, you... are too tall, I can't reach them."

Demon King: "..."

He gave Ah Zhao a look of "what's the use of you", and took off his robe.

Ah Zhao blinked and stared at his movements.

For some reason, in her mind, all the words Joanna and Liz had said before suddenly popped up.

"I don't know how many abdominal muscles His Majesty the Demon King has..." This thought flashed through her mind.

Thinking about it, Ah Zhao's ears became hot, and his eyes quietly raised, looking at the Demon King quietly.

How could her small movements escape the perception of His Majesty the Demon King?

While spurning the little girl, he really had unreasonable thoughts about him, His Majesty the Demon King moved his fingers, and the underwear fell off.

Ah Zhao's eyes widened slowly, and before she had time to marvel at the perfect figure with wide shoulders and narrow waist, her attention stopped on a certain place.

It was a hideous scar, appearing on this beautiful jade-like flawless back, like some ominous curse.

Sensing her gaze, the Demon King turned his head.

It's a pity that Azhao didn't have the energy to count how many abdominal muscles he had this time, and her eyes fixed on his heart - there was a scar that was exactly the same as the wound on his back.

She understood in an instant: once, a sharp weapon penetrated his body from the deadliest part of the heart.

His Majesty the Demon King looked at the girl in front of him.

She was still very young, with an innocent look on her face, her pure blue eyes looked at the once fatal wound on her body, with distress and intolerance.

He chuckled and knelt down in front of Ah Zhao.

The long hair like a crow's feather was scattered on the ground, flowing like a brocade.

He stretched out his hand, took Ah Zhao's hand, and pressed it on the wound.

His hands were cold, and he didn't even have heat in his heart, and his tone was ridiculed with malice:

"Azhao, this was left by the ancestor of your Blanche family three hundred years ago."

He stared at the girl in front of him closely, trying to see how she would react.

flustered? Shock? Still guilty?

But neither.

Those blue eyes looked up at him, full of heartache: "You were in pain at that time, right?"

The Demon King was taken aback.

The girl had already lowered her head and kissed it.

The soft touch brushed from the wound, like a feather, and like the spring breeze of Sri Lanka.

Sri Lanka is Oliwen's hometown. Because Olivan, who was seriously injured, was taken in at that time, he was turned into a dead town by the Holy See's legion in the name of "purification".

Every year in the cold winter, this wound would ache, reminding him of some hatred and pain that should not be forgotten.

It's not yet time, but the devil feels that because of the little girl's kiss, the scar is aching again.

Only this time, it's not the same as before.

It's not the kind of feeling that the cold wind is raging, and the whole chest is cold and dead.

It's like a young shoot breaking through the shackles on the barren soil, and the tip of the bud emerges.

Although it hurts, you can feel the vividness of blood flow.