As the sound of Qin Wentian’s voice faded, a terrifying cold gleam of light flashed in Jing Yu’s eyes.
Trash….? Recently he’d been so dispirited and often asked himself where had his supposed talent gone to? Not only did his master doubt him, even his fellow disciples no longer trusted him. The word ‘trash’ was like a needle pricking right into his heart.
"Slut, get your ass over here. Don’t blame me if I use you as my plaything," Jing Yu remarked in an icy voice, without turning around. Jing Yu, whose back faced Qin Wentian, was visibly trembling, his entire face contorted. Usually, Jing Yu would never lose control of himself like this, but recently his mood had really been terrible, and now with the stimulation of this ‘needle’, all the darkness in him came gushing out.