Chapter 887: Chapter 524: Live, and Make It Back Alive!
“Have you finished cursing me yet?”
“No!”
The Sword Spirit retorted without a second thought, continuing with a cold laugh:
“Anyway, that old bastard is about to find us and take Zhao, the young lord, to his grave. I’ll curse you a few more times to vent my anger. Later, I’ll appreciate the old bastard’s skill in flaying, and Zhao, the young lord’s heroic composure without batting an eyelid, at least that way I can die in peace. Oh right, on the Netherworld Road later, don’t come near me, scram as far away as you can, or I’ll beat you. Hmph, I don’t want to see you in the next life. We should reincarnate separately, so as not to infect each other with bad luck.”
The Sword Spirit’s tone was arrogantly aloof.
Zhao Rong: “……”
He fell silent for a while, then finally shook his head, not retorting.
Suddenly, Zhao Rong leapt up with a carp jump, but his stance was still a bit unstable. He stumbled forward a few steps, using the sword to support himself before finally steadying his footing.
But these were minor details. The young Confucian scholar didn’t care, he lifted his head earnestly and looked at the sky and sun.
“Is it still the hour of Shen? It felt like what just happened lasted more than ten thousand years…”
He murmured as he clutched his severed arm, then immediately sprang into action.
The Sword Spirit, preparing to lie flat, felt something was amiss and asked warily:
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Zhao Rong quickly pulled out a bandage cloth. With one hand and a pale, cracked mouth, he tore the bandage a few times, then carefully wrapped up the wound on his severed arm.
At this moment, he bit down on one end of the bandage with his teeth, jerking his head to the left to tighten the knot, then spat out the bandage from his mouth with a “ptooey”, calmly replying:
“What am I doing? Surviving.”
The Sword Spirit was taken aback, “That’s obvious. You’re neither alive nor dead yet. I’m asking what you’re doing, doing all this.”
Zhao Rong suddenly smiled, revealing a mouthful of bloodstained white teeth:
“To live! To live and go back.”
Gui fell silent. At this moment, in the eyes, tone, and Heart Lake of this young Confucian scholar, there was something called “light”.
The Sword Spirit grew puzzled and confused. It had urged him not to die, thinking he needed to escape, yet he insisted on going to his death, leaving the path of survival entirely to others.
Now at this point, facing a dead end together, it had given up in despair, waiting for death. Yet, for some unknown reason, he regained his spirit, affirming with certainty that he wanted to live, to live and return…
Zhao Rong lowered his head, quickly picked up the scattered Spirit Pills from the ground, selected the beneficial ones, and then, without bothering to wipe off the dust, simply tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them down hard.
At this time, even the usually sharp-tongued Sword Spirit was unusually quiet, and the young Confucian scholar seemed to sense something.
He was silent for a moment, first lowering his head to the scholar sword engraved with the Heavenly Destiny Mysterious Bird pattern and re-sheathing it at his waist.
Then, the young Confucian scholar, covered in blood and dirt by the river, stood alone, facing north toward Du You City, and declared directly:
“I want to go back and see them!”
—-
Ps: Refresh in half an hour, this chapter isn’t long, you won’t have to wait long… just half an hour, brothers.
—-
About a hundred miles south of the Bamboo Forest Courtyard.
Beside a rushing river, beneath a tree, a figure suddenly appeared, enveloped in a black mana that was slowly dissipating.
On the ground appeared the figure of an injured man, his snow-white clothes soaked with blood, covered with dust and bamboo leaves.
One sleeve hung empty, lying on the ground, his breath weak.
Beside him lay a scholar sword.
A moment of silence ensued.
“Quick, wake up, Zhao Rong!” Gui assessed the situation and hurriedly called out…
Soon after.
Urged awake by the Sword Spirit, Zhao Rong rolled over, lying on his back on the grass. With his only remaining left hand, he reached into his Sumeru Object and pulled out a handful of healing Spiritual Medicine.
Many of these were from the Great Li Kingdom’s treasury.
The young Confucian scholar’s face was smeared with blood, his breath faint. His left hand trembled as he poured bottle after bottle of elixir pills onto the ground.
Then his left hand groped wildly, grabbed a handful of pills mixed with mud and dust, and swallowed them down with blood and water, gulping them down with difficulty…
The Sword Spirit anxiously felt his internal energy gradually stabilizing and breathed a slight sigh of relief.
At first, Zhao Rong felt a surge of blood and water choking in his chest, making it hard to breathe, almost suffocating. But as the effects of the valuable Spirit Pills dissolved and spread, he finally managed to catch his breath.
“Zhu Yourong still understands you.” Gui suddenly sighed.
At that moment, the young Confucian scholar lay on the grass, breathing heavily. With his eyes wide open, he stared blankly at the gradually darkening sky.
Instinctively he wanted to reach out with his right hand, only to find it was gone, so he smirked self-deprecatingly at the corner of his mouth, struggled to stretch out his left hand, and grabbed the scholar sword lying on the ground to his right.
Zhao Rong held the scholar sword horizontally before his eyes, staring blankly at a ‘stroke’ quietly left by Zhu Yourong.
Zhu Yourong had deceived him a little.
She had only written two words.
One “Eternal”, one “Right”.
But there weren’t ten strokes; there were eleven.
The character ‘Right’ had no room for manipulation, but she deliberately wrote ‘Eternal’ with six strokes. About a hundred miles south of the Bamboo Forest Courtyard.
Beside a rushing river, beneath a tree, a figure suddenly appeared, enveloped in a black mana that was slowly dissipating.
On the ground appeared the figure of an injured man, his snow-white clothes soaked with blood, covered with dust and bamboo leaves.
One sleeve hung empty, lying on the ground, his breath weak.
Beside him lay a scholar sword.
A moment of silence ensued.
“Quick, wake up, Zhao Rong!” Gui assessed the situation and hurriedly called out…