In the wilderness.
A sudden flame flared from Qi Shan's sleeve.
He halted, then swept his sleeve and sent three tongues of fire flying.
The flames burned most of the three human-shaped sheets of paper, tracing orange tails through the air. When the ashes drifted to the ground, only curled scraps remained. Qi Shan's sleeve had also been scorched black in one spot.
Cui Xiao's Dantian stirred, and the memories of his incarnation fully returned.
He asked with a strange expression, "Qi Yuanliang, are you sure this He Buzuo is your friend and not your enemy?"
That scoundrel Qi Yuanliang had made enemies everywhere. Wherever he went, he ran into people with grudges against him; there were more than a handful even in the lord's camp. None of them, himself included, had managed to lay a finger on him, yet He Shu—whom Qi Yuanliang himself had vouched for as a friend—had shot an arrow straight through his heart.
If he hadn't escaped fast enough, wouldn't he have been offered up alive?
He Shu's arrow had been swift, decisive, and precise.
He hadn't shown the slightest hesitation.
That made Qi Shan's enemies seem rather dim by comparison. They hadn't struck as viciously as his friend. He Shu was ruthless indeed. When he sent the three of them to the sacrificial altar, he'd even asked Qi Shan who he was. That little detail made it clear that even if He Shu hadn't known Qi Shan's identity, he'd known there was someone familiar beneath the disguise. Knowing that, he'd still loosed a fatal arrow without the slightest hesitation. Hadn't he been afraid of killing the wrong man and regretting it too late?
Qi Shan looked at the ashes on the ground, where the embers had died out.
He said without surprise, "Of course