Longevity Martial Arts: Obtain Golden Affixes at the Start

Hong Lang lay on the ground, trying to prop himself up, but his arms were as limp as mud, and he couldn't even lift them.

The woman had untied the ropes binding her hands at some point. She slowly stood up and looked down at the raging torrent on the ground.

With a series of cracking sounds, the woman's figure grew taller and taller in front of Hong Lang.

The ill-fitting, tattered clothes were stretched open, revealing the snow-white skin underneath.

The youthful face began to change continuously, finally settling on a face that was so exquisite it was almost otherworldly.

A striking crimson beauty mark at the corner of her eye accentuated her alluring charm.

The front of her dress bulged high, her waist narrowed to the point where it could be grasped in one hand, and her curves suddenly burst open downwards.

Her hips were like a ripe peach, plump and full, stretching the originally loose waistband into an arc shape.

Each time she rose higher, her two rounded breasts would tremble slightly.

Qin Jiuzhen was already considered voluptuous, but compared to the woman in front of her, she was still two sizes smaller.

"Little brother," she crouched down, her snow-white fingers lifting Hong Lang's chin, her voice high-pitched and delicate, yet more alluring than before, "how does this 'Sexy Incense' taste like?"

Hong Lang tried to speak, but his tongue seemed to be tied in knots, and he could only utter indistinct sounds.

"Don't waste your energy," the witch chuckled. "This incense is my secret recipe. Let alone a mere beginner in the Marrow Cleansing Realm, even a martial artist in the Meridian Opening Realm would have to lie down obediently after smelling it."

She stood up and looked down at Hong Lang, her eyes filled with greed, like a hungry wolf eyeing a piece of tender meat.

"That guy was right, I am indeed a witch of the Yin Cult," she licked her lips and picked up the knife Zhao Xian had dropped on the ground.

She used the tip of her knife to lift Hong Lang's collar and made a light cut.

"Your blood and energy... are truly abundant," the woman's voice trembled slightly, carrying an almost pathological excitement.

"In all my years, I have never seen a martial artist with such a robust and powerful aura. Just now, when you were fighting that Zhao fellow, I could smell your scent from a great distance."

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, as if savoring some exquisite delicacy.

"The smell of blood, the smell of sweat, and another... indescribable aura, scalding hot, like a ball of fire," she opened her eyes, her pupils reflecting Hong Lang's figure, "This kind of heart must be very nourishing, maybe it can shorten my cultivation time."

She ripped open Hong Lang's shirt, revealing his muscular chest.

Under the moonlight, Hong Lang's muscles were clearly defined, rising and falling slightly with his breathing.

The witch's gaze lingered on his chest for a moment, then she suddenly reached out and touched his chest, her fingernails scratching his skin and leaving red marks.

"So sturdy," she exclaimed sincerely, then sighed, "What a pity, such a beautiful body will soon become a cold corpse."

She stood up, holding the knife, and paced around Hong Lang, tilting her head to examine him, as if considering which part of him to attack.

"Which part of you should I cut first?" Her voice was innocent and carefree, as if she were asking a trivial question.

The tip of the knife traced its way across Hong Lang's body, sliding from his chest to his abdomen, and then continuing downwards from his lower abdomen...

The witch's lips slowly curled into a smile.

"How about," her voice held a hint of amusement, "we start here?"

She crouched down, leaned close to Hong Lang's ear, and breathed warmly into him: "Since you don't need it anymore, why don't you let your older sister have a taste first?"

Hong Lang lay on the ground, unable to move. He was still conscious and could hear every word clearly, but his body was as if nailed to the ground, and he couldn't even lift a finger.

The witch gripped her knife, her gaze sweeping over Hong Lang, seemingly enjoying the prey's dying struggles.

Suddenly, the surrounding air turned icy cold.

It was as if something had crawled out from underground, greedily absorbing all the warmth within a ten-foot radius.

The witch was the first to notice something was wrong.

Her hand holding the knife stiffened slightly, and the seductive look on her face instantly vanished.

"What...what is this taste?"

Red mist surged out from all directions.

Hong Lang lay on the ground, barely glancing outside with the corner of his eye.

From where the fog was thickest, a figure slowly emerged.

No, it's not "one" figure, it's "one" body with two heads.

The head on the left is a man's, and the head on the right is a woman's.

The two heads are attached to the same torso.

That body was incredibly tall, easily over eight feet tall.

He, or rather "it," walks in a very strange way.

It wasn't like a normal person walking forward and backward; instead, it was like a marionette, with each step carrying a strange mechanical feel.

Hong Lang had seen this kind of evil spirit in the "Illustrated Record of Ten Thousand Evils". It was classified as a low-level Ding-class evil spirit, a hermaphrodite.

Two heads in one body, male and female coexist.

This evil spirit is inherently a vessel of desire, carrying both the obsessions of the sexes and yearning for the lifeblood of the living.

They don't manipulate people's minds as subtly as higher evil spirits, but they have a more direct and primal ability to release a bewitching mist.

That mist wasn't poison, but it was more insidious than any poison; it stirred up the most primal desires deep within people's bones.

Hong Lang's heart tightened. The "Illustrated Record of Ten Thousand Evils" recorded a total of 372 kinds of low-level evil spirits, with the Yin-Yang Man at the end, and his strength was not considered very strong.

However, it possesses a characteristic that terrifies countless cultivators: its bewitching mist specifically targets those with impaired concentration.

People who are more vigorous and have stronger desires are more likely to fall victim to this.

No matter how high one's cultivation level is, if one's mind is unstable, one will still become a slave to desire.

Two heads, two expressions: one is laughing, the other is crying.

They share a single torso, which is muscular, yet has two completely different arms.

The man on the left had a thick, powerful arm with veins that looked like earthworms; the woman on the right, however, had a slender, fair arm.

With each step it took, its two heads swayed slightly.

"Run," the man's head spoke, its voice deep and resonant, carrying a chilling gentleness. "Run, little thing. I love watching my prey struggle."

The woman's head opened at the same time, its voice shrill and piercing: "Don't run...don't run...you can't escape...no one can escape..."

The two sentences, stacked together, were like two saws simultaneously pulling back and forth in Hong Lang's mind.

Hong Lang's consciousness began to blur.

My senses were being peeled away layer by layer; my heart was racing; my blood was surging, burning hot as if it would burn through my skin.

He had read about this symptom in the "Illustrated Record of Ten Thousand Evils". Once the bewitching mist enters the body, it will spread rapidly in the blood vessels and stimulate the most primal desires in the human body.

The weaker one's character, the faster one succumbs; the stronger one's desires, the deeper one sinks.

Hong Lang gritted his teeth, desperately trying to preserve his mental clarity.

But the intense heat seemed alive, rampaging through his body and tearing his will apart bit by bit.

He could feel his breathing becoming heavy, his gaze becoming unfocused, and his eyes uncontrollably falling on the witch.