Tan Yin and Wang Rong (2)

"Actually, back then, you shouldn't have reached out your hand to me."

Darkness, tangible as a spiderweb, wrapped around the two of them layer upon layer. Wang Rong carried Tan Yin on his back, his footsteps heavy as he struggled through the thorn bushes.

The thorns showed no mercy, tearing his clothes and piercing through his boots. With every step, piercing agony shot through his body like an electric current, yet he felt none of it. It was as though he had sunk into another world, trapped deep in the mire of his own thoughts.

"If it had been anyone else here besides me, you would still have made the same choice, wouldn't you? It had nothing to do with who it was. It was simply because that was the kind of person you were."

Wang Rong tugged self-mockingly at the corner of his mouth, forcing out a smile that looked even uglier than crying.

"The only fool who would be restless over it, so self-righteous, so moved by it, was me from beginning to end."

Memories suddenly surged forth. The warmth he had felt when Tan Yin carried him through the muddy mountain road, stumbling deep and shallow through the rain that night years ago, overlapped with the body on his back that was gradually turning cold.

Thorns cut across the back of his hand, poisoned blood dripping steadily down and winding over his pale skin like snakes. Yet he remained unaware, one hand gripping the person on his back tightly while the other dragged the heavy Black-Iron Sword along with difficulty.

The blade scraped against the ground and rough rock walls, sparks briefly illuminating the trail of blood stretching ahead beneath his feet before darkness swiftly swallowed it again.

"Of course I knew that someone like me was