"Kill Meng Fuling..." Meng Zecheng's eyes were blank, and he chuckled with relief, "Yes... it should be killed..."
Meng Zecheng's empty eyes moved downwards, and after seeing the knife in Xiaolan's hand, he showed a pale smile.
"He deserves to die," Meng Zecheng nodded towards Xiaolan, "I don't blame you."
It felt like my throat was blocked and I couldn't speak.
Xiaolan's hands clenched the handle of the knife so hard that her fingers turned white.
My nose, eyes, and chest are all sore.
My heart was beating loudly, as if it was about to jump out.
Meng Zecheng approached.
He came to Xiaolan.
"Ah -" Meng Zexiang seemed to smell something and showed an intoxicated expression, "Xiaoxiao is nearby."
Xiaolan closed her eyes hard to stop the tears from rolling out.
Breath, temperature.
A living heart.
Blade.
Xiaolan raised her hand.
puff--
Warm liquid splashed on his face.
Meng Zecheng's warmth disappeared.
The surroundings returned to coldness.
"Xiaolan!"
"Xiaolan!——"
"ah--"
The voices of his companions were in his ears.
Xiaolan opened her eyes suddenly.
Meng Fuling was still pressing herself down, and his face was only a few centimeters away from her.
From his mouth, blood continued to gush out.
Meng Fuling looked at Xiaolan in disbelief, and then looked at his chest.
With the strength back in her body, Xiaolan pulled out her arm and waved Meng Fuling away.
Meng Fuling fell to the side, looking at the dagger stuck in the middle of his chest, as if watching a joke.
Xiaolan quickly got up, feeling pain in her heart again. When she lowered her head, she realized that the injury just now was indeed on her body.
The iron ropes on the companions came loose with a clatter.
Qin Yin was covered in wounds and dripping with blood. He fainted next to Xiaolan's legs and lost consciousness.
"It's impossible..." Meng Fuling shook his head, his mouth was full of blood, and he couldn't speak clearly, "It's impossible... I won't die... I can't die..."
"You will die," an equally weak voice suddenly sounded from the corner, "If I die, you will die..."
Meng Zecheng woke up.
He clutched his chest, blood dripping from between his fingers.
Meng Fuling looked at him, opened his mouth, and spit out another mouthful of blood.
The Taoist priest limped to Xiaolan's side and looked down at Meng Fuling.
"I won't give you another chance this time." The Taoist priest said, stretching out his bloody hand and covering Meng Fuling's face.
"ah!--"
Meng Fuling's scream was gradually covered up by the crackling sound of burning, and soon he turned into a puff of fly ash without any trace.
There is no longer Meng Fuling in this world.
Xiaolan touched the wound on her chest with red eyes. The bleeding had stopped, but her heart was still beating violently.
Thump thump thump thump…
Thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump…
It's getting faster.
Xiaolan pinched the clothes on her chest and felt it was difficult to breathe.
It's like there is a force pulling on myself.
She took a step forward.
His heart was pulling himself in the direction of Meng Zecheng.
"Xiao Lan," the poison on the fool's body was also detoxified. Seeing that she was in a bad state, he quickly held her shoulders, "What's wrong? Are you okay..."
"How could it be okay?" Maple Sugar took the strip of cloth from February and March and was about to help Xiaolan bandage it, but felt it was inconvenient.
Xiaolan approached Meng Zecheng step by step.
Meng Zecheng's life was disappearing little by little.
He opened his eyes wide and tried to look at her.
There seemed to be a voice inside Xiaolan's body.
Meng Zecheng blinked, as if he saw something unexpected.
"Xiaoxiao?"
Wow——
Anxiety, shouting, and strange power burst out of the body in an instant.
Xiaolan clearly saw a group of translucent mist emerging from her chest and heading towards Meng Zecheng.
"You didn't disappear." Xiaolan stared at Xiaoxiao's last trace of soul.
Under the mist, Meng Zecheng smiled and closed his eyes.
"I'm waiting for him."
The fog disappeared.
Meng Zecheng curled up into a small ball in a pool of his own blood.
Ice cold.
"They left together." The Taoist priest said softly.
Xiaolan nodded, feeling less sad.
Looking down, I saw that the wound was healing rapidly, and I could even hear the slight sound of tissue regeneration.
It turns out that the reason why my body's recovery speed has slowed down during these days is because I used someone else's heart.
"Let's go forward." The fool picked up Qin Yin and said.
Baomu also woke up slowly, and when he saw that everything was over, he thought he was dreaming.
"Go forward?" March asked Maple Sugar timidly.
The Taoist priest smiled, "Are you afraid?"
This question is about February and March.
March glanced at her brother.
February replied, "There is nothing we can do if we are afraid. Until now, we have to see that King God. Even if we die... we have to see him."
"You're not going to die," Maple Sugar said seriously, "We're not going to die."
Several people walked into the darkness.
The road became narrower and narrower, like entering a dark cave.
Just when a few people began to consider whether they had taken the wrong path, their eyes suddenly opened up and they suddenly stepped into a rotunda.
The hall is surrounded by glass walls. The walls are snow-white, but no light comes through the windows. The dome is extremely high. There seems to be something painted on the black gold dome. It is too far away to see clearly.
The hall is neatly divided into two parts, the left and right parts. There are rows of black wooden benches on each side, much like the layout of a church.
The light in the hall comes from a small podium more than one meter high that stands in the center of the room.
Is this... the Wang Shen's lair?
Several people entered the hall one after another and turned around. The entrance they came from was gone.
The door of death is the door of no return.
Bai Su suddenly pointed to the bench on the right.
"There!" she shouted softly.
The light was dim at the edge of the first row of benches. After Bai Sui reminded them, they realized that there seemed to be a person sitting there.
It's a man.
He lowered his head, shoulders drooped, and the faint light vaguely outlined a thin and depressed figure.
Could that be...
Xiaolan looked at each other excitedly, but the Taoist priest's expression was very serious.
February and March couldn't hold it any longer, and they wanted to rush forward, but Maple Sugar held them tightly with each hand.
"No," Baomu frowned and sniffed, "The smell here is wrong."
"What does it smell like here?" Maple Sugar asked quickly.
Baomu's eyes turned sharp, "There is a smell like the prison of the dead here."
"Is the Prisoner of the Dead nearby?" The fool changed his arms and hugged Qin Yin.
Baomu closed his eyes and smelled carefully, then opened his eyes, stretched out his right hand and pointed at the man on the bench, "It's the smell of him."
Before a few people could react, the Taoist priest ran over first.
"Sure enough," he ran diagonally behind the man and said to his companions, "this is a dead man."
The man was leaning against the back of the chair, his arms tied to the edge of the chair, his head hanging low, and more than half of the flesh on his face had rotted away.
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