The cold wind was like blades and swords.
Specks of blood spread and bloomed; chunks of flesh floated as they churned up splashes.
What had happened? What was going on?
Cloudy beads of sweat slid down his forehead, and his unfocused pupils gathered themselves again.
The sky was bright and clear, the daylight stabbing at his eyes.
Blood trickled from his ears with a buzzing sound. He De Ban's Adam's apple bobbed, his throat dry beyond measure.
Dead?
Bai Xingwen... was dead? Just like that... in a single exchange, in a split-second flash of lightning.
"Ah, ah..."
It was as though Chai Gou's throat had been plugged shut, the passage in his chest and throat clamped tight. Like a mute, he forced out breath with hoarse huffs. His lips were like a shallow puddle splashed onto a yellow-earth field in the dog days of summer, evaporating in the blink of an eye and cracking into countless flakes of dead skin.
Thud! Thud! His knees struck the deck.
The lackeys behind him recognized the head and dropped to their knees on the deck. Water stains spread down their trousers and flowed across the ground as their entire bodies shook without cease.
It was over.
All over.
Young Master Bai was dead! If the old clan head learned of it, even if they were turned into serfs for five lifetimes, prostitutes for five lifetimes, and had their thighbones taken apart for the master to refine into Dharma implements and aura cavities, it still would not be enough to repay the sins of this life!
No. They had to capture him and take him back.
Chai Gou's eyes bloodshot, he abruptly looked up. The instant he met those golden eyes, his pupils shrank to pinpoints, and every scrap of courage swelling within him