Gu Chi did not react for a long while.
He had thought he already understood Kang Shi's title as the God of Plagues, but he had never expected the man to break his own record again. Rubbing his temple in pain, he said, "In other words, Wei Heng has survived nine deaths and is facing a tenth?"
Kang Shi moved his lips. "Perhaps it's ten deaths with no life."
The teacup in his hand finally gave way and shattered with a crack.
The clear water inside ran between his fingers and across his palm, soaking the hem of his robe.
Blood seeped from the wound, diluted by the water into a pale pink.
Although Kang Shi's expression had barely changed and his thoughts were a chaotic mess, Gu Chi could keenly sense the sorrow and anguish spilling from his entire body. If Yu Zi truly lost her life because of this, then to Kang Shi, it would not be as simple as losing a colleague or half a student.
"Kang Jishou!"
Gu Chi seized Kang Shi's trembling wrist.
The low shout instantly brought him back to his senses.
Kang Shi looked at his blood-covered palm and seemed to realize, belatedly and somewhat unsteadily, what had happened. He circulated his literary qi to staunch the wound, then pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped the blood clean. Again and again, he rubbed until the wound was dragged open, exposing the flesh within. Gu Chi could not help frowning inwardly. Lowering his voice, he said, "You said it yourself—this wasn't your wish—"
In the past, Kang Shi had always tormented his lord.
After all these years, his lord was still alive and kicking.
At first, Gu Chi had watched in terror, but after it happened so many times, he had grown