ATPnovel Chapter 308 A Narrow Escape! But is that really the case?
Chapter 308 A Narrow Escape! But is that really the case?
The withered grass trembled in the wind, and the sky grew even grayer.
Zhao Laosi clutched the wound under his ribs, blood seeping from between his fingers, staining his entire hand red.
He looked at Liu Hongyan, who was standing three steps away, at the blood-dripping dagger in her hand, and at her expressionless face.
He had just been clinging to a sliver of hope.
Maybe she's acting.
Perhaps those imperial guards were just putting on a show.
Perhaps she would deliberately deviate by half an inch when she made her move, deliberately leave a sliver of hope, and suddenly sheathe her sword when a secret signal known only to the two of them was given.
He thought of so many "maybes" and gave himself so many reasons, all to convince himself.
She didn't betray us; she was forced into it, and she must have had her reasons.
But when that knife pierced his ribs, all those "maybes" shattered.
That force was too strong.
The angle at which the blade cut into the flesh was too tricky.
The cold glint in her eyes at that moment was so real.
It was so real that he could no longer deceive himself.
She wasn't acting.
She really wanted to kill him.
"Zhao Laosi".
Liu Hongyan's voice was very soft, as soft as a withered leaf falling from a branch.
"Let's lower it."
"The price has dropped; they can still live."
Zhao Laosi looked at her and suddenly smiled.
"Alive?" he repeated the word, the smile on his lips deepening, pulling at the bloodstains on his face, making them look particularly ferocious against the gray sky.
"Live like you?"
Liu Hongyan did not speak.
But something flickered slightly in those empty eyes.
Zhao Laosi took a deep breath.
The breath he inhaled carried a strong, metallic smell of blood, which made him more alert.
He straightened up and moved his left hand away from under his ribs.
The wound was still bleeding, soaking the entire hem of his clothes, but he no longer cared.
He gripped the knife tightly in his hand.
The blood on the knife had dried, and it gleamed a dark red in the afternoon sun.
His legs were still shaking, his lungs were still aching, and the last bit of true energy in his dantian had burned down to its last trace.
But his knife steadied itself.
"Today," he said, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, "even if I, Zhao, die here, I will still cut you, this traitor, down with my blade."
Before he could finish speaking, he had already sprang forward.
He used all his strength in that strike.
The last bit of true energy in the dantian was squeezed out, like a dying ember being suddenly blew on, bursting forth with its last light and heat.
The true energy surged along the meridians and flowed into the blade, causing a layer of pale golden light to appear on the edge.
That was the light that only a second-rank martial artist could produce when they exerted all their strength—faint, yet intense.
His movements were as fast as lightning, and the knife drew a bright arc in the gray sky as it slashed towards Liu Hongyan's neck.
This single strike contained the swordsmanship he had honed for twenty years, the killing moves he had learned in the Northern Army, and the insights he had gained from meditating alone every night during his eight years away from Yang.
This was the strongest strike he could ever deliver in his life.
But the true target of this strongest strike was not Liu Hongyan's neck.
The blade suddenly veered off course when it was still three feet from her throat.
The deflection came without warning, as fast as a mountain stream suddenly changing direction.
His seemingly all-out straight strike was actually a feint.
Actually, his strike wasn't meant to kill the opponent, but rather to instill fear in them, allowing him to find a way to break through.
That's right. If there were even the slightest possibility, he wouldn't want to die here, because he still needed to return to the Northern Territory to deliver a message to His Highness the Crown Prince.
Although this possibility is very low, after all, he is only a second-grade expert, while Liu Hongyan is a Celestial Phenomenon Realm expert. Although the other party was also injured, the difference in strength between the two is still huge.
But even if there's only a sliver of a possibility, he'll give it a try.
Therefore, Zhao Laosi's real target was the gap beside Liu Hongyan.
There were only two Imperial Guards in the direction of that gap.
Once we break through that opening, we can rush into the forest.
Once you get into the woods, there's at least a glimmer of hope.
One line is enough.
As expected, Liu Hongyan's pupils contracted slightly.
She instinctively turned to the side, her short blade held horizontally in front of her to block.
The knife grazed her blade, sending up a cluster of tiny sparks that vanished in the hazy sky.
She took two steps back, and the gap suddenly widened.
Zhao Laosi's eyes flashed with a sharp light.
It's now!
His body sprang up suddenly, like an arrow released from a bow, and passed through the gap.
Two imperial guards brandished their swords to intercept, their blades slashing from the left and right.
He ignored everything and forced his way through the gap between the two blades.
His left shoulder was slashed open by the blade, the flesh rolled back, and blood spurted out, splattering all over his face.
But he didn't even flinch; he just gritted his teeth and charged toward the grove of dead trees.
"Chase!"
Liu Hongyan's voice rang out behind him, carrying an urgency he had never heard before.
Zhao Laosi did not turn around.
He rushed into the woods, the dry branches whipping his face, stinging painfully, but he didn't care.
He just ran as fast as he could, the withered leaves crunching under his feet, while the footsteps of his pursuers grew ever closer.
He dared not stop, nor could he stop.
The wound on my left shoulder was still bleeding, and it mixed with the wounds on my back and under my ribs, soaking my entire garment.
His leg muscles started cramping again, and his left calf twisted into a hard lump, so painful that he almost cried out.
My lungs felt like they were on fire; every breath was accompanied by a burning, stinging pain.
But he was still running.
He gritted his teeth, dragging his left leg with his right, one step, two steps, ten steps, a hundred steps.
The footsteps behind me grew farther and farther away, becoming increasingly faint, until they finally disappeared into the howling wind.
But he dared not stop, for he feared that if he stopped, he would never be able to get up again.
After running for an unknown amount of time, he saw a grave.
The grave was deep in the woods; half of the mound had collapsed, and the tombstone stood crookedly, the words on it worn away by wind and rain.
The grave mound was covered with withered grass, shivering in the wind like clumps of messy gray hair.
Zhao Laosi collapsed behind the grave, his body going limp. He leaned against the half-collapsed mound of earth, panting heavily.
Cold sweat slid down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging his vision and blurring his vision.
He raised his sleeve and wiped his hands haphazardly; his hands were trembling so much that he could barely hold the knife.
He placed the knife across his lap, blade facing outwards, towards the direction he had come from.
Then he closed his eyes and began to regulate his breathing.
The dantian was empty; not a trace of true qi remained, leaving only a dry, cracked void.
He tried three times before he managed to extract a few wisps of true energy from his limbs and bones, guiding them back to his dantian little by little.
The process was slow, as slow as a freezing winter night in the North.
Every wisp of true energy squeezed out of his meridians carried a needle-like pain, starting from his fingertips and burning all the way up his arm. When it passed through those wounds, the pain was so intense that he almost cried out.
But he dared not utter a sound, he just gritted his teeth and swallowed back his cries of pain.
Sweat soaked through his undergarments, then dried in the wind, leaving a thin layer of salt crystals.
The wound on his left shoulder was still bleeding, and blood dripped from his clothes onto the withered leaves, making a soft "drip-drip" sound.
He reached out his left hand and pressed it against the wound, his fingers sinking into the rolled-up flesh, the pain bringing him back to his senses.
He lowered his breathing, and each breath gradually became longer and more even.
Footsteps sounded outside the grave.
Very light, many, like fallen leaves swept across the ground by the wind.
Zhao Laosi held his breath, his whole body frozen behind the grave, not daring to move even a fingertip.
His hand rested on the hilt of the knife, the blade facing outwards, toward the direction from which he had come.
But he knew in his heart that in his current state, he couldn't even beat an ordinary soldier.
The footsteps lingered outside the grave for a long time, so long that he thought he would be discovered, so long that his palms were sweaty, so long that the knife slipped in his hand and he could barely hold it.
"There isn't one here," someone shouted.
"Chase them that way!"
The footsteps faded into the distance, growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared into the howling wind.
Zhao Laosi remained motionless.
He lowered his breathing even further, inhaling and exhaling, counting to nine.
It was quiet outside the grave, with only the sound of the wind and the occasional snapping of a dry branch.
He waited for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, then for another incense stick to burn, until the wind died down and the sky turned from gray to yellow, before finally opening his eyes.
He struggled to his feet, his legs still trembling, but he couldn't care less about that now.
He tucked the knife back into his waistband and headed north.
With each step he took, his wound would tear open, causing him to break out in a cold sweat from the pain.
But he can't stop.
He has to go back.
The news of Liu Hongyan's betrayal must be personally delivered to His Highness the Crown Prince.
We must tell His Highness that Li Yang is gone and the alliance is null and void.
He raised his head and looked north.
As darkness fell, the last rays of the setting sun struggled on the horizon, burning the clouds to a dark red, like congealed blood.
He gazed at the dark red sky and walked step by step, leaving behind the withered forest, the graves, and the footsteps of his pursuers.
Unbeknownst to him, above the setting sun and in the clouds, three figures were watching him intently.
The clouds spread out beneath my feet like an endless white ocean, which was then burned by the setting sun into a magnificent orange-red and dark purple.
Qin Mu stood with his hands behind his back atop the clouds, his moon-white robe fluttering gently in the wind.
He stood there, his gaze fixed on the figure that was getting farther and farther away, smaller and smaller.
Zhao Qingxue stood half a step behind him, also watching the figure.
The setting sun shone on her face, bathing her stunning beauty in a pale golden light.
Those deep purple phoenix eyes reflected the dark red clouds on the horizon, as well as the increasingly blurry black dot staggering across the wilderness.
The sorrow in her heart deepened even further.
Zhao Qingxue took a deep breath, suppressing her sorrow.
Liu Hongyan knelt on the clouds, her forehead touching the flowing white mist.
Her shoulders were trembling slightly, not from the cold, but from fear.
"Your Majesty," she began, her voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible, "this time, he should have no more doubts."
Qin Mu didn't turn around, he just smiled.
The laughter was soft and swallowed by the wind, but Liu Hongyan, kneeling behind him, heard it clearly.
"But you hit so hard."
His voice remained soft, carrying a nonchalant ease.
"I'm starting to doubt whether he can even hold out until he reaches the northern border."
"You didn't deliberately hit so hard, did you?"
Liu Hongyan's body stiffened abruptly.
The stiffness started from the spine, spreading to the shoulders, to the hands, and to the fingertips.
She knelt there, as if frozen in place.
The string that had been taut all day snapped suddenly in her mind at that moment.
He was right.
He guessed correctly again.
For a fleeting moment, she did indeed have that thought.
She thought, if she could kill Zhao Laosi on the spot, if he couldn't return to the Northern Border alive, if those messages never reached the Crown Prince's ears—
Then there's still room for things to turn around.
That's why she struck so hard, so hard that one blow was enough to be fatal.
She thought that if he died, everything would be over.
She can temporarily avoid labeling herself a "traitor".
But she never expected that the person who was only half alive would have such a strong will.
What she didn't expect was that Qin Mu would see through her murderous intent in that instant.
Cold sweat seeped from his forehead, slid down his pale cheeks, and dripped onto the clouds at his feet, spreading out in a small, transparent pattern.
Her lips were trembling, her fingers were trembling, her whole body was trembling, trembling like a withered leaf in the wind.
"Your Majesty is wise!"
Her voice trembled with fear, becoming sharp like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"Your subordinate wouldn't dare! Your subordinate would never dare to have such a thought!"
"I was just... just afraid that if he didn't die, he would become suspicious, he would..."
She couldn't continue.
She knelt there, her forehead touching the clouds, the flowing white mist brushing against her cheeks, icy and chilling, like the winds of the North.
Qin Mu turned around and looked down at her.
The setting sun shone in from behind him, casting a half-light and half-shadow on his handsome face.
He looked at her kneeling figure, at her trembling shoulders, at her humble, fearful, and miserable appearance.
She smiled softly.
"I'll deal with you when we get back."
He said his voice was very soft and faint, as if he were talking about something very ordinary.
Then he turned around, put his hands behind his back, and walked into the depths of the orange-red sea of clouds.
The moon-white robe fluttered gently in the wind, its hem flowing like a legendary immortal, walking on clouds, untouched by worldly dust.
Zhao Qingxue glanced at Liu Hongyan.
In those deep purple phoenix eyes, there was no sympathy, no pity, only a deep, weary calm.
Then she turned around and followed him.
Liu Hongyan knelt on the clouds, struggled to her feet, and staggered after them.
Above the clouds, dusk was falling.
Three figures, one in front and two behind, walked towards the increasingly dark western horizon.
On the ground beneath their feet, a man covered in wounds was walking step by step toward the north.
He didn't know if he could return to the North alive, he didn't know if the message he sent back would change anything, and he didn't know if what he had risked his life for was an ending or a beginning.
All he knew was that he had to go back.
The wind blows from the north, carrying the scent of snow.
Winter is coming soon.
........