"Pfft—"
Wu Xian stared blankly at his eldest son for a long time, his eyes filled with nothing but bewilderment.
A sudden, agonizing pain struck his chest. The martial energy in his meridians, thrown into turmoil by his turbulent emotions, went out of control and rampaged through his body, forcing its way out as internal injuries. The metallic taste of blood surged up his throat. Wu Xian spat out a mouthful of blood, some of which stained the sickbed red, while the rest splattered across the ground and his eldest son's black boots. Spitting it out did nothing to ease his symptoms; a wave of vertigo immediately followed.
Blood stained Wu Xian's lips a vivid red.
Yet his face was weak and pale, full of disappointment and heartache.
Tears streamed down his face. His trembling finger pointed at his eldest son as he scolded him, "You—you, you—you—you wicked son! You show no respect for your ruler or father, you slaughtered your own brother, and you accidentally killed your birth mother... How could I have a son as disloyal, unfilial, unbrotherly, and unkind as you? Do you know—do you know what beastly things you've done? You really are..."
His emotions overwhelmed him, and he choked on his words.
Though Wu Xian had never had a good relationship with his first wife—especially after what happened to the Zhao Feng family, when their marriage had hit rock bottom and they had become bitter enemies—Wu Xian was soft-hearted. He still cherished their past and remembered that he and his first wife had been young sweethearts, once supporting one another and facing every hardship together. Even if not for her sake, he could not completely break with her for the sake of their two sons.
Thus, after Gao Country was established, he had made his