—Zhan Ri Fei’s face, under the dim evening light, had turned deathly pale. Faint traces of blood lingered on his face and clothes, washed lighter by the persistent drizzle that continued to soak his black cloak.
His hand still held his sword, though it was now sheathed.
The scabbard was old and unremarkable. Yet the moment Zhan Lu rested within it, its brilliance was immediately subdued, its energy concealed. No one could imagine that this ancient scabbard housed a peerless divine weapon.
—In all the time Huo Xiao Di had spent with him, he had never truly noticed Zhan Ri Fei’s sword.
The one thing unchanged was Zhan Ri Fei’s smile. However, even this smile, directed at him now, carried a weariness that was hard to ignore.
Huo Xiao Di frowned.
Behind that faint smile, he could sense pain—well-hidden but palpable. Perhaps it was the severity of the pain that made his smile seem so strained.
Huo Xiao Di’s smugness vanished without a trace, as if struck by lightning. For a moment, he could barely breathe.
“Why are you hurt?”
He failed to notice a shy yet warm gaze from nearby.
—The mute boy’s eyes, upon seeing him, filled with tenderness and an irrepressible urge to reach out and hold his hand.
—Seeing him now brought back memories of that time in the courtyard of the inn at Xiao Lang Tou Mountain, where Huo Xiao Di had stood under a bamboo umbrella, his face full of concern, his hands warm and comforting. Back then, the boy had been knocked down by the horse of Commandant Feng—whose arrogance now likely resided only before the gates of the underworld.
The mute boy made a couple of soft, stuttering sounds, as though trying to greet him.
Huo Xiao Di finally noticed the boy’s gaze. As he looked into the boy’s eyes, his own gaze softened.
“You didn’t take the medicine from Han Shui Palace, did you?”
The boy shook his head.
Only then did Huo Xiao Di relax. His glance lingered on the boy just long enough to confirm he was unharmed before his dark, gleaming eyes shifted back to Zhan Ri Fei.
—“Was it someone from Han Shui Palace who injured you? Was it that demon woman, or that lifeless monster?”
Huo Xiao Di had an intense dislike for the Moon Attendant (掌月使). Or rather, to put it more accurately, he despised women of the Moon Attendant’s type.
Zhan Ri Fei’s demeanor remained composed. “I doubt it was anyone else. Still, even if they managed to hurt me, I doubt they came out of it unscathed themselves.”
Though his face was still shockingly pale and his voice weak, a faint, spirited smile began to form at the corners of his lips. Against the vast darkness of the night, that smile seemed to brighten the scene.
Despite what appeared to be a serious injury, he could still smile as if nothing had happened!
Huo Xiao Di’s expression turned peculiar, a strange mix of confusion and amusement. His eyes began to gleam with mirth. Then he asked an odd question—one whose answer would have been obvious even to a blind person.
“Are you not badly hurt? If not, why are you still sitting on the ground instead of leaving?”
Zhan Ri Fei’s answer was equally curious: “Because if I can sit, I will never choose to stand.”
This was his fourth sentence since the Sun and Moon Attendants of Han Shui Palace had left.
His first and second sentences had been directed at the boy. While saying the first, it had seemed as though a weight of lead pressed on his chest, preventing even a cough. That single sentence had drained all his strength.
The second had been broken and hoarse, barely comprehensible.
Yet by the time he spoke this fourth sentence, his voice had returned to normal.
—Was this man made of iron?
Huo Xiao Di pouted and thought to himself, He obviously can’t get up and is just putting on a brave front! Why is this person so different from him?
His large eyes darted around—his signature move when deep in thought.
—Such fluid, lively eyes seemed almost wasted on a man’s face. Yet, whenever his eyes moved like that, it usually spelled trouble for someone.
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