Song Qinglin was filled with incomparable admiration.
Though Zhao Ritian's words were muddled and all over the place, the moment he realized something was off on the battlefield, he had hardly hesitated for even an instant before charging straight over.
Compared with him, Song Qinglin was simply a useless coward.
He asked himself honestly: even if he had not been injured, at this very moment, he truly would not have dared to go and help in the fight.
At that thought, he felt a little heartsick. Secretly discovering his own weakness and timidity left him dispirited.
Zhao Ritian was covered in wounds. It was hard to imagine just how tragic and brutal that battle had been.
They were fellow disciples, after all. Seeing Senior Disciple Brother surrounded and attacked, though Zhao Ritian acted tough with his mouth, he had still charged over without the slightest hesitation.
But with a body like his, what could he even do?
It seemed... his injuries were much worse than mine! For an ordinary person in that state, forget fighting—wouldn't even running tear the wounds open?
Song Qinglin lowered his head, tears pattering down.
He looked down on himself!
He hated himself!
He despised himself!
Kong Yirou watched him, and she cried too.
At this moment, no words were needed. Everyone's thoughts and feelings were actually the same.
Kong Yirou turned her head, looked behind them, and bit her lip.
Should I go help? If I could fight, if I could be like them, maybe... we could win.
While the two of them were standing there in silence, someone else arrived.
Lu Chengwen was whistling, with a Guardian following behind him.
The Guardian was extremely respectful toward Lu Chengwen. "Senior War God, this way, this way."
Kong Yirou and Song Qinglin's eyes almost burst out