Before he could finish his words, the Fengling disciple who ran out to report the news was swept away by a palm wind from behind. He fell back a few steps and almost fell over the second-floor railing to the lower floor.
Marcus, with a pale face, ran out barefoot from the swaying lights. He looked around and saw Ethan was safe and sound. He finally showed an expression as if he had been saved and struggled to run towards him.
He firmly held Ethan in his arms and confirmed that it was not an illusion. Only then did Marcus's lips turn slightly red. He lowered his head and tried to burrow into Ethan's chest like a calf.
The more he loved, the more Marcus didn't know how to express it. He just wanted to drill a hole in the heart of the person in front of him and live in it.
Ethan reached out to touch Marcus's back. His back was wet, and the hot sweat softened his clothes and wet his hair. There was a thin layer of mist on his eyelashes, making him look soft and weak.
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