Bai Wuque's tight heart felt another cramping pain at this moment.
"I will prove it to you." He said resolutely, "I will be better than him. ... This is not to win against him, because I have already lost. You can just regard it as ... the prodigal son of this traitor. ."
The two stood in the silver-gray grass field, both with tears in their eyes. However, the glances passed between each other are no longer confrontation and rebellion, but the strength that can transfer heat to each other.
After pondering for a long time, Lu Shanling slowly opened her mouth:
"Glass water... right. You, come with me."
…………
The days in the lower world have been in full swing for two days. The beacon fire blocked by the blood mist is like an unruly naughty child, noisy and endless. Qingya Academy and Jinji Fengjian, each located at one end of the lower world, are the core hinterland of Fenghuo.
Qingyuan territory. Since Dongfang Shiming and others joined in, the critical war situation has eased slightly, but the situation has not been turned back, and it is only a matter of time before the Seven Golden Halberd Sects fall.
The seven factions used all their tactics and launched a breakout within two days, but all ended in failure.
Jiuche Xiaoying's military camp gradually approached the canyon. The heavy troops are pressing down on the territory, and the remaining hope is as elusive as a candle in the wind.
——At least, that's what it seems.
In the Jiuche Xiaoying military camp, a lazy figure rarely appeared, but after dressing up in disguise, no one recognized him.
It's getting late. As autumn approaches, the days begin to shorten. Before the time of Unity had passed, the darkness had swallowed up most of the blood mist. The blood light in the distance also dimmed, and the surroundings began to become unclear.
The camp is built on grassland, with sparse woods not far away. The boundary of Qingyuan is a small basin among the peaks. Compared with the green surroundings of the surrounding peaks, it is indeed a little barren.
In each of the private rooms of the camp, a wounded soldier with half his face wrapped in blood-stained cloth flashed past. The exposed half of his face was extremely rough, and there was a scar hanging on his cheek, which looked very ugly no matter how you looked at it.
He walked slowly to a burning fire. It was more lively there, and he could hear the noisy sounds from a distance.
After passing through several linen curtains, his ugly face was immediately illuminated by the firelight in front of him.
Surrounding the fire were many soldiers, more than a hundred of them, drinking and having fun. They had pulled out all the grass here in advance, and the dry soil was filled with charred firewood, and the firelight was shining brightly.
He turned a blind eye to the crowd around him and slowly swayed to the front.
When the people around saw such a person coming in, although they didn't say anything, they were all a little disappointed. But the wounded soldier also ignored their gazes and walked to the fire before he slowly sat down sideways.
"Brother...ask for a pot of wine." He looked at the man next to him carrying a large wine pot with one eye and whispered.
The big jug was drinking with a person next to him when he suddenly heard a breathy voice coming from here. He was startled and turned around to pull out the knife from his waist.
——This is also one of the habits of the Blackwater Sky Barrier soldiers: never drop their weapons at any time.
Naturally so do others. But after a burst of booing, the man saw clearly who it was, and with a false alarm, he replaced the half-drawn blade.
The wounded soldier also turned a blind eye to the sword flash just now. He repeated again slowly: "Brother, please ask for a pot of wine."
The man was holding a wine bottle and glanced at him. The wine jug was not covered with a lid, and the wine inside slowly floated with firelight.
"How did you get hurt like this?" The man thought for a while and asked.
However, the wounded soldier did not answer his question. He stared straight at the wine in the flask, swallowing dryly from time to time.
The people around him stopped talking, and the atmosphere dropped to freezing point because of this wounded soldier. Countless pairs of eyes looked over, at the wounded soldiers, and then at the wine bottle.
Naturally, the person carrying the jug couldn't bear it anymore. He muttered a few words that were inaudible, most likely cursing, but he still stretched out the jug in front of the wounded soldier: "Come on, brother, it's just a jug of wine. I won't drink it with you."
But the wounded soldier did not bring a vessel to hold wine. The crooked mouth of the wine bottle was handed to him. The wounded soldier fumbled around twice, and finally shook his head with regret.
Everyone thought he stopped drinking - some even laughed softly. However, before everyone could expand their speculation, the wounded soldier made an unexpected move.
In full view of everyone, the wounded soldier gently raised a finger, pointed at the spout of the wine pot, and then pointed at his own mouth.
Suddenly, the wine in the pot seemed to react, and it followed the trajectory of his fingertips in the air, gurgling to form a thin line, flying out of the pot and pouring into his mouth.
The thin lines of wine are like a magical trick in mid-air. The person carrying the jug was also stunned. He didn't realize that half of the wine in the jug had entered the man's mouth, and his eyes were wide open.
Everyone around was also in an uproar. This kind of ability is certainly worthy of envy, but as martial arts practitioners, they are more clearly aware of the profound internal strength required to achieve such a level.
But the wounded soldiers were indifferent to their surroundings. After sipping and drinking, he blew gently, and the line of wine slowly fell back into the pot.
Wiping the corners of his mouth, he stood up slowly, bypassed the crowd, and walked towards the chaos in the distance.
After passing through tents one after another, he did not return the way he came.
On the way, he passed two or three fires like the one just now, but he had just drank enough wine and stopped joining in the fun.
Keep walking through the camp site and across the sleepy and sleepy grass fields. According to memory, we should be almost at the Heart Lake Canyon. So he stopped slowly and took off all his disguises.
As the bandages fell off, Xi Zishi returned to his original elegant appearance. He smoothed his hair and looked ahead alone at the canyon wrapped in blood mist and darkness.
The firelight was far away from behind him, and the place seemed to be ancient, and it looked particularly quiet under the blood mist.
The autumn nights are getting cooler. He took a breath, and a bit of the spicy taste of the wine came to his mind, but it made him very energetic.
This is the second time he has come here. He actually came here once yesterday, but he also stopped there.
He knew it very well. There is not much time left for him.
Serve as a helper, live and die with Jiuche Xiaoying and Guixiao Changyuan...or find a way to rescue A Tian, and then leave without hesitation and fly away.
Two choices, two paths, two endings. But he couldn't see the way forward clearly. The future was like the scenery in front of him, fermenting in the darkness, but now he could only smell a little sour smell.
Every time he recalled the last sight of Che Chi Wensheng, he felt a surge of blood boiling - but then it was extinguished by the current predicament.
