Though Ge Yun Fei had no strength left, desperation and the instinct to survive gave him one last burst of energy. He raised a dagger and plunged it into the boy’s arm!
The boy screamed in agony as blood gushed from his wound. Ge Yun Fei clutched the boy’s arm tightly, pulling him into his embrace, dragging him down to the ground.
The boy in the yellow jacket let out an involuntary cry of shock. He hadn’t expected Ge Yun Fei to still be alive, nor had he anticipated that Ge Yun Fei would be vicious enough to attack the frail child. The first dagger strike had caught him off guard, leaving him no time to intervene, but he still had a chance to stop the second.
In that fleeting, critical moment, his yellow robes fluttered as he moved, illuminated by the flashes of lightning. He was already beside the pair, raising his hand to stop the next attack, when he noticed Ge Yun Fei’s eyes were wide open, unblinking. The man was already dead.
Shaking his head gently, the boy murmured, “The Tang Clan’s poison blades—are they truly this deadly?”
Turning, he crouched beside the boy, speaking softly. “Little brother, what’s your name?” As he spoke, he pressed on an acupoint on the boy’s arm to stop the bleeding and then pulled out a handkerchief to bandage the wound. His dog, “San’er,” came trotting over, wagging its head as it sniffed the child curiously.
The boy only made incoherent sounds, unable to form words. It turned out he was mute.
Noticing how the child seemed at ease with San’er, even forgetting the pain of his injury, the boy in the yellow jacket smiled. “Do you like him?”
There was something innate about the boy’s demeanor that made others drop their guard. His cheerful smile seemed to dissolve all unfamiliarity.
The child shyly nodded.
The boy said, “Ah, so you can’t speak but can understand what I’m saying. You’re mute, but not deaf.”
The child nodded again.
Smiling, the boy pointed at the yellow dog. “Do you want to know his name? He’s called ‘Three Wolves.’ If he meets someone he doesn’t like, he can bite them worse than three wolves put together!” As he spoke, he rolled up the child’s sleeve to bandage the wound.
A flash of lightning lit up the sky again, turning night into day for a fleeting moment. In that brief illumination, the boy in the yellow jacket drew in a sharp breath.
The child’s arm was covered in scars, some fresh, some old—crisscrossing lines that told a story of countless stabbings.
The boy’s brows furrowed as he finished dressing the wound. “Who left so many scars on you? Who are you, really?”
* * *
Hearing the question, the child suddenly flinched as if struck by a chill, instinctively pulling his arm away and eyeing the boy warily.
The boy in the yellow jacket smiled gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But who would treat a child so cruelly? Tell me, and I’ll get justice for you.”
The child turned his face away, shaking his head, and once again adopted an indifferent expression.
San’er circled the child, sniffing him curiously, occasionally letting out soft grunts, as if far more interested in the boy than its own master.
The boy in the yellow jacket wasn’t annoyed. Flashing his shiny rabbit-like teeth, he smiled warmly and asked, “So, where are you planning to go? Should I escort you back to Xing Yun Manor?”
At these words, the boy’s expression changed dramatically, as if he had just heard the most terrifying thing. Without thinking, he grabbed the yellow-jacketed boy’s sleeve and shook it desperately, all the while making incoherent “ee-ah” sounds and vigorously shaking his head.
Now that they were close, the yellow-jacketed boy caught a faint scent of herbs coming from the child. However, the boy’s thin clothing didn’t suggest he was carrying anything unusual. Without dwelling on it, he asked curiously, “Aren’t you with the people from Xing Yun Manor? Don’t you want to go back? So many of them died tonight—you should at least let your manor lord know.”
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