Night slowly receded, and the east grew pale.
Lu Changfeng descended from the sky and landed atop the ruins.
Amid the wreckage of the palace walls, Li Longji lay on his back beside a broken corridor pillar. Most of his gleaming armor had shattered, and the bloody froth at his lips had dried into dark red scabs.
His eyes were shut tight, his breathing faint. The broken blade of the Crimson Firmament Sword lay several feet away, moonlight casting a dull, cold gleam across its severed length.
Lu Changfeng glanced at him and raised a hand, sending a stream of gentle Shennong Qi from his fingertips into Li Longji's body.
Rich and enduring, that energy fell like spring breezes and nourishing rain, gently drawing him back from the depths of unconsciousness.
Li Longji's eyelids quivered, and he slowly came around.
He opened his eyes. As his blurred vision cleared, he saw Lu Changfeng's perfectly composed face.
He froze at first, a flash of astonishment crossing his eyes. Then a deeper darkness swallowed it, and his entire face turned ashen.
"Disappointed?"
Neither pleasure nor anger could be heard in Lu Changfeng's voice.
Li Longji's lips twitched into a smile uglier than tears.
His voice was hoarse and weak, yet still carried his inborn pride and obstinacy. "I... am disappointed for the people of this realm, who are about to endure a second Wu Zhou!"
Lu Changfeng sneered.
"The world keeps turning, whoever it loses. Do you think that without you, Li Longji, the Great Tang would fall beyond all redemption? Do you think that without you to set things right, no one else in this world could recreate the glory of Zhenguan?"
He bent slightly, his gaze cold and sharp. "You think far too highly of yourself."
Li Longji's face remained