I Married a Disabled Tyrant After Transmigrating: 14|Fourteen dragons


www.lnmao.org, the fastest update to the latest chapter of I Married a Disabled Tyrant After Wearing the Book!

The kitchen was in the side hall. Mu Wanwan carried a small handful of spiritual rice, thought about it and cut a small ginseng root.

She has made up her mind and will eat separately from Mr. Long from today on.

They have very little money and very little spiritual rice. If she and Mr. Long eat this small bag of spiritual rice together, they can finish it in less than a month, but if Mr. Long eats it alone, , if you save a little, you can last for two months.

She also wants to eat spiritual rice, but there is nothing she can do about it. Poverty makes people powerless and desperateqwq.

Mu Wanwan sighed and walked to the kitchen.

I don’t know what material the stove in the kitchen is made of. The surface is very smooth. The fuel used is not modern natural gas or rural rice ears, but a very special plant called burning grass.

After igniting this light green long-shaped plant with flint, it will not only burn for a long time without much smoke, but a single burning grass can make a meal, and the taste will be better than those with smokey coals. The result is much better.

The price of this kind of burning grass is not cheap, and it can only be cultivated with wood spiritual power. A piece of burning grass costs one silver coin. Basically, only some well-off families can afford it.

Mu Wanwan lit a burning grass, put Mr. Long's rice in it first, then found another stove nearby and put his own dinner in it. She stared at the dozens of burning grass piled in the corner of the kitchen for a while, and suddenly her eyes lit up——

She is really stupid. She was originally a first-level monk of the wood system. It may be difficult to cultivate other spiritual plants, but it is more than enough to cultivate non-level semi-spiritual plants like burning grass. She can definitely do it. Buy some burning grass seeds and plant them, then sell them to make money to raise dragons!

The burden of life that was still weighing down Mu Wanwan like a mountain in the afternoon seemed not to be so heavy anymore in the face of this glimmer of hope.

Mu Wanwan picked up a piece of burning grass and put it in his hand, tentatively guided a trace of wood spiritual energy from his Dantian, and slowly penetrated the slightly dry burning grass. Based on his previous memory, Holding the burning grass, it was like smoothing the hair, guiding the spiritual energy all the way from the tip to the root of the grass.

I don’t know if it was her imagination, but she felt that the burning grass in her hand seemed to have a little more vitality than before, and it looked more...

More green=_=!

The porridge in the pot was almost boiling. Mu Wanwan stopped licking the burning grass. He cut up the thin ginseng tendrils and threw it into the pot. He stirred it again and cooked it. Put the two different porridges in the food box and carry them back to the room.

It was already getting late. Mu Wanwan put away the food boxes and checked whether the door was locked before collecting his clothes and coming in. He closed the windows, lit the lights in the room, and started to prepare. Feed the dragon.

The voice she did was neither loud nor quiet, and was tinny and messy, but to the ears of Mr. Long, who had just regained his consciousness, it was very clear, making him feel as if he had been alone since he was born. Some people still care.

Mr. Long restrained himself from thinking wildly, but he couldn't help but send all the spiritual power he could mobilize to the half of the dragon's tail that was already showing signs of decaying again.

Even if the warmth of these few days is just a flash in the pan, he still wants to extend it some more, and then some more.

In the evening of late autumn, there is a gradually rising cold air. It is not biting, but it is like fine and constant needles, which makes people feel uncomfortable. This coldness is nothing to Mr. Long, the top powerhouse in the mainland in the past. Calculate. But he was seriously injured now. Even though he was covered with a quilt, he still felt the chill crawling up his skin, which made him feel a little cold.

I don’t know if that person had the same mind as him, but he stood up and closed the door the next second, blocking the wind that kept blowing in.

Mr. Long endured the pain caused by the curse and the wound, the scent of spiritual rice filled his nose, and his heart trembled a little. But soon, he fell into another kind of distress——

The light is ambiguous, and the lonely dragon and widowed woman appear.

"It's time to eat." Mu Wanwan didn't know that Mr. Long had already woken up. Thinking that he wouldn't get the quilt dirty when he fed the dragon later, he went to the bed first and slightly lifted some quilts.

She took her own pillow again, said "I'm offended" softly, then held Mr. Long's head in one hand and put another pillow under his head.

Mr. Long's eyelashes trembled, and when her cool fingertips touched his neck, his blood almost flowed backwards.

Even for the powerful dragon clan, the neck is their fatal weakness. When he was weak, everyone who touched his neck died. After he became strong, no one dared to touch his weakness.

But when he was touched by her, he didn't feel disgusted. He just felt an indescribable feeling, exciting and shuddering.

The porridge Mu Wanwan cooked for Mr. Long was not much, just one bowl, but it was very fragrant. A bowl of spiritual rice porridge could contain about one-third of the spiritual power of a low-grade spiritual stone. She moved Neither fast nor slow, every time the porridge is blown to cool down and then fed into Mr. Long’s mouth.

Fortunately, Mr. Long still had the instinct to swallow, so it was not difficult for her to feed him.

After feeding this time, Mu Wanwan thought of his lip gloss-like mouth. She very considerately took a piece of handkerchief and wiped Mr. Long's mouth. Her movements were very gentle, but through the handkerchief, The warmth from the fingertips still clearly reached Mr. Long’s lips.

Her touch was very clear. Mr. Long pursed his lips and his fingertips hidden under the quilt trembled.

"Phew, it's finally better." Mu Wanwan rubbed his waist which was even more sore from bending for a long time, and started to eat his dinner. Because it had been left out for a little long, the porridge was already warm.

She ate not quickly. After all, she could only temporarily forget her many worries when eating and sleeping. She ate for a while, and Mr. Long gradually recovered from her previous touch.

His sense of smell is very sensitive, but except for the spiritual energy around his mouth, he can't smell the aroma of silk rice.

A thought that he was reluctant to believe and very selfishly wanted to believe slowly arose in his heart. Mr. Long slowly let out a trace of consciousness and floated to Mu Wanwan——

He saw her holding a bowl of ordinary rice porridge and drinking it happily. There was not even a trace of spiritual energy in the porridge. The satisfaction in Mr. Long's heart that came from being confirmed did not make him happy as he thought.

On the contrary, the helpless frustration, mixed with self-blame, was like a tide, almost overwhelming him.

The warm rice in the stomach is like a sharp bayonet.

It’s just spiritual rice, it’s just spiritual rice that doesn’t count.

Now he has to rely on her mercy and charity;

He didn't have the ability to make her save so much.

She married a useless dragon like him, and he couldn't give her anything.

If he knew that she had saved spiritual rice for him, he would rather not eat it. Although it was uncomfortable to be hungry, he should have gotten used to it after being hungry for so many years when he was young.

The trace of Mr. Long's consciousness floating in the room seemed to have touched something that caused him pain, and slowly dissipated.

Only the warm stomach and the spiritual rice with few impurities were left, turning into wisps of pure spiritual energy. Although it was a drop in the bucket, it was like a warm candle, nourishing his broken meridians bit by bit.


Leave a Reply