What Zhao Rucheng kept speaking of was Du Yehu.
What everyone present heard was that "too."
If Du Yehu would do so, Jiang Wang certainly would as well.
Helian Zhaotu shone golden-bright like a blazing sun amid the snow. He tipped his head back to gaze at the sky, extending one hand flat as though he wished to catch the falling snow.
"Now that I am here and seek to hold great power, I am bound to accomplish something grand—something everyone will remember."
He closed his five fingers. Though that hand clearly grasped nothing, it seemed to grasp everything. He lowered his gaze and looked at Zhao Rucheng. "One more Du Yehu makes no difference. Nor would anyone else."
Zhao Rucheng was silent for a moment. "...You're right."
He gave a "Ha." "So now the two of us, husband and wife, have become the villains from those storybooks. We can't beat a fated protagonist like you, so all we can do is scurry home and call for our elders... If we were a little more arrogant, we'd be even more loathsome."
At last, he raised his head and shouted, "Third Brother! Save me!"
At first, there was only a single point of cold starlight.
Then the clouds parted through nine layers.
Even the wind and snow fell still.
The white-haired gale that had just howled across ten thousand miles, sweeping over heaven and earth, now fluttered obediently like velvet.
The breeze brushing their faces still carried warmth, and the snowflakes landing on their shoulders seemed almost tender.
Jiang Wang descended from the sky, clad in a blue robe with a sword at his waist.
Huyan Jingxuan stepped forward almost instinctively, shielding Helian Zhaotu. Wanyan Qingshuang also tightened her grip on her longsword.
Jiang Wang did not spare them so much