Chapter 251

Lu Er's tall figure stood at the doorway, his fiery red hair dancing ostentatiously in the breeze. Each step he took was steady and powerful. If it weren't for the hint of his tightly pursed lips and slightly tense jawline, no one would have guessed he was enduring excruciating pain.

The moment he stepped out of his house, the repulsive feeling of being torn apart by the world and thrown into the void suddenly disappeared. Instead, he felt the incredibly solid, reliable touch of the ground beneath his feet. He paused, feeling the lost groundiness, his tense body finally relaxing a little.

He looked down at his hands, which still retained the slight sting of being rejected by the world.

"Haha." He whispered to himself, with a hint of determination in his eyes.

Beneath his fiery red hair, he gazed into the distance, where, shrouded in mist, he could vaguely see the rolling mountains. Without hesitation, he adjusted his breathing and forced down the remaining pain in his body. Each step was more resolute than the one before, as he moved towards the one who had called him.

The golden moonlight enveloped Lu Er's body. He tapped his toes lightly, and his body rose as light as a feather.

The home beneath my feet quickly shrank into a blurry black dot, and I no longer had to fight against the repulsive force of the world.

The sun and moon supported him in their shadows, and the wind whistled past his ears, carrying the fresh scent of the mountains. He looked down, and beneath his feet, a magnificent landscape unfolded. The rolling mountain ranges resembled sleeping dragons, the winding rivers resembled silver ribbons, and the vast forests were like an endless green carpet.

His fiery red hair rustled in the wind, blending beautifully with the clear light around him. He opened his arms, feeling the wind's embrace.

The Qinggong was incredibly fast, and when the weathered silhouette of the ancient city came into view, Lu Er's heart sank. The air was no longer the freshness of the mountains, but was instead filled with a thick, nauseating stench.

It was the rotting smell of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, mixed with the freshest smell of blood that had not yet completely dissipated.

Lu Er's body froze in mid-air for a moment, the sight before him horrifying. The once prosperous city of Nanjing had now become a living hell. Corpses lay scattered among the rubble, and the streets were stained red with blood, flowing into filthy streams.

Right in the center of this hellish scene, he saw Rong Zhou.

Rong Zhou stood on a platform built from the skeletons of young Japanese soldiers, stepping on the corpses of the invaders. His long black hair, the ornaments on it had disappeared somewhere, and lay slightly disheveled in front of his eyes.

When Lu Er's figure appeared in the blood-red sky, Rong Zhou slowly raised his head.

His eyes were as empty as two bottomless wells, without a single focus or ripple. There was no anger, no sorrow, even the flames of revenge had been extinguished, leaving only a dead, blank silence, as if he had lost all perception and interest in the purgatory before him and the corpses beneath his feet.

Those were not the eyes of a human being, but more like a cold and empty statue abandoned on a battlefield, leaving only pure emptiness and deep-rooted fatigue, as if the soul had long been completely drained away by the endless killing and despair.

He just looked at Lu Er quietly, as if he was looking at a stranger, or as if he was looking at a non-existent phantom.

He stepped into the warm, sticky blood and broken corpses. Each step was heavy and firm. He ignored the tragic scene under his feet and walked straight towards Rong Zhou on the high platform.

"I'm here." His voice was calm, but with an unquestionable power that penetrated the dead silence in the air.

Lu Er walked up to him, stopped, and looked at the blood all over his body and his almost dead eyes.

Rong Zhou remained in that position, his eyes fixed on Lu Er. He stared blankly, his lips moving, but in the end, he said nothing, as if he had run out of energy to speak.

Lu Er walked up to him, looked up at him, and said calmly, as if he were talking about a trivial matter: "It's just killing a few people."

He stretched out his hand, as if wanting to gently stroke Rong Zhou's head.

Rong Zhou suddenly turned his head away, avoiding his touch. It wasn't anger, nor resistance, but simply an indescribable discomfort that ran deep in his bones. He wasn't ready to forgive yet, and perhaps he never would be, but at this moment, he simply couldn't face this sudden, inappropriate tenderness.

Lu Er's hand froze in mid-air, then he withdrew it with understanding. He could clearly see the exhaustion deep in Rong Zhou's eyes, which threatened to wear him down. He said nothing more, but struck out swiftly, striking the back of Rong Zhou's neck with a precise palm.

Rong Zhou's body went limp, his eyes completely devoid of luster, and he fell forward. Lu Er caught him steadily and lifted him up sideways.

He looked down at the unconscious person in his arms, his voice low and firm, as if he was talking to Rong Zhou, but also as if he was making a promise to himself:

"Go to sleep, leave the rest to me. It's just killing ninjas, that's what I'm best at." After Rong Zhou in his arms was properly placed on a relatively clean broken wall, Lu Er slowly stood up.

His once pitch-black eyes had at some point transformed into an eerie yellow and blue, gleaming with a beastly brilliance in the dim light. His fiery red hair fluttered freely, unrestrained by the wind. He grasped two gleaming scimitars in his hands.

The next second, his figure disappeared from the spot like a ghost.

In the Japanese camp, a soldier was cleaning his rifle, a grim smile of someone who had survived a catastrophe still on his face. He didn't even see what had passed by, only to feel a cold touch on his neck. Then, his vision began to spin, and the last thing he saw was his own headless body, splattered with blood, collapsing to the ground.

"Puff!"

There was another soft sound, followed by the dull thud of a head hitting the ground.

Lu Er's movements were incredibly fast, like a flash of red lightning, weaving through the panicked Japanese troops. He swung his two swords without any unnecessary moves, each swing aiming precisely at the neck or heart.

The splattering blood stained his robes and splattered his flowing red hair, making him look like a demon from hell. The screams and gunfire of the Japanese soldiers echoed in his ears, but they could not hinder him in the slightest. His figure was elusive, sometimes appearing behind one person, sometimes flashing in front of another. Wherever he went, he left behind only fallen bodies and the stench of blood.

There was no emotion in his yellow-blue eyes, only cold murderous intent. He would use the blood of these invaders to wash away the humiliation of this land and seek justice.