Long Xiyue's nose stung, and her tears came pouring out like a river bursting its banks. She no longer cared how many people were standing outside. Before Hu Xiaotian could even enter the room, she threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly, pressing her lovely face against his solid chest. All her earlier fear and anxiety vanished in an instant.
Zhan Peng and the others tactfully turned their backs. When their lord was displaying his affection, they were better off pretending not to see.
Hu Xiaotian, on the other hand, felt a little embarrassed. He quietly reminded Long Xiyue, "The brothers are all here."
Only then did Long Xiyue come to her senses. Her face flushed crimson, and she fled into the room like a startled fawn, shutting everyone out-including Hu Xiaotian.
Hu Xiaotian knew how easily she became embarrassed and could not help laughing. He turned to the others and cupped his hands. "Thank you, brothers!" Seeing wounds of varying severity on every one of them, and blood staining them all without exception, he felt deeply moved. Without these brothers' help, Long Xiyue would surely have run into trouble again.
The next morning, Hu Xiaotian did not hurry to resume their journey. Instead, he first went with his men to the foot of Cloudlink Mountain to bury the twelve brothers who had fallen the previous night. Western Sichuan had gained nothing from that bloody battle either. With a dagger, Hu Xiaotian carved a line of large characters into the boulder before the grave: Tomb of the Twelve Righteous. Then he personally engraved each man's name upon it.
Once he had finished, he and Long Xiyue respectfully kowtowed three times before the grave. At the sight, the men's blood surged with fervor. If their lord would honor them