This Damned Thirst for Survival

Chapter 153

The expression on Jiang Luo's face cracked.

The person he wanted to kill was a pseudo-god?

The person closest to a god in the world?!

"..."

After a while, he took a deep breath, and his distorted face slowly calmed down.

So what if it's a pseudo-god? Chi You's body is still that of an evil god, and he dealt with it just fine, didn't he? He could even kill a god, it's just a fake one, no big deal.

His quick composure caught Ji Yaotzi's attention. Jiang Luo adjusted the Soul Catcher hanging from his finger, "Can he see that this thing is off?"

Ji Yaotzi smiled, slightly proud, "The only thing I can surpass the Chosen One in is alchemy."

That reassured Jiang Luo.

Besides the Chosen One, there was also Feng Li, who hadn't shown up all morning. The Taoist priest in Tang clothing had an emotionless face, appearing even more indifferent than usual. His gaze glanced over Jiang Luo and Ji Yaotzi, then calmly withdrew, showing no signs of disturbance.

Ji Yaotzi felt something was off with Feng Li, "Your master doesn't seem to be in a good mood today; his face is colder than usual..."

Turning his head, he noticed that Jiang Luo's face had also become colder than before.

Ji Yaotzi clicked his tongue. What happened to this master-disciple pair?

Jiang Luo didn't look at Feng Li; he walked straight into the pool and started soaking. Halfway through, to attract the Chosen One's attention, Jiang Luo pretended to be seriously injured, appearing weak and unable to continue.

People by the pool indeed noticed his unusual behavior. The Chosen One said, "Taoist, go check on him."

Feng Li's eyes, through the steam, focused on Jiang Luo. After several seconds, he took a step forward, then suddenly stopped. His tone remained unchanged, "I've just soaked in the Little Spring Pool; it's not suitable to go in again recently."

The alcohol scent on him had completely dissipated by now.

The Chosen One looked at Ji Yaotzi. Feng Li noticed his gaze, remembered Ji Yaotzi's intimacy with Jiang Luo, furrowed his brow, and his eyes darkened slightly, "Ji Yaotzi is not allowed either."

At a glance, except for the Chosen One, it seemed no one could go down to help Jiang Luo. The Chosen One said no more, quickly stepped into the water, and approached Jiang Luo.

Jiang Luo closed his eyes, a hint of pain between his brows, water droplets on his face could be sweat or spring water. The Chosen One held his arm, preventing him from slipping into the water, softly calling, "Jiang Luo, Jiang Luo?"

Jiang Luo opened his eyes, looking at him with unbearable pain, weakly whispering, "Chosen One."

The Chosen One's hair, pure white and untouched by dust, reflected in Jiang Luo's eyes. The Chosen One's appearance had a hint of a "Zen" feeling—thin eyelids, hanging gently, appearing tender when lifted but ruthless when uncovered. The Chosen One's coldness and Feng Li's coldness were two different kinds. Perhaps some didn't think the Chosen One was "cold" and mistook this coldness for tenderness.

One was like snow accumulating silently over the years, silently taking lives. The other was sharp-edged, like cold, hard ice.

Jiang Luo glanced at the water around the Chosen One.