"It was stored in the ice cellar, and it was already somewhat rotten when it was brought back..." she said in a very soft voice.
I immediately ran out, put on my straw hat, and rode my horse with a whip.
It's somewhat rotten... I wonder if the Fuxi can still be cured? And how am I supposed to bring it back along this journey?
As the weather turned colder, the ice cellar was no longer under strict guard. When I arrived, I was still slightly drowsy.
I swung the whip in the air to wake him up. He stared at me blankly for a long time before shakily opening the door.
Am I too terrifying today? I had no time to think about it. I dismounted and went inside to search. His arm was there, frozen in ice, turning an unusual color.
His right hand.
His right hand.
I took a deep breath, but my chest still felt suffocated.
What exactly happened that caused him to lose his right hand?
The clear ice concealed the blood, but how much blood gushed from his wounds that day?
I bit my lip, having no time to think any further. I put the unbearable piece of ice into the box and left a note for Nan Qing.
Tell the post stations heading south to prepare enough ice along the way.
Despite the cold weather, I want to make sure everything goes perfectly.
Without lingering any longer, they rushed out of the palace gates and headed south. This road was still too long; they still needed to find Qingqiu Mountain, and there were still too many things to accomplish.
What will happen to the battlefield situation without him?
What should Fuchi do if his army presses in?
With him gone, who can take charge?
If the final result is not as expected, who can explain the cause and effect of our long journey of thousands of miles?
Too many unknowns are suffocating me. There's no escaping it. I don't know how to move forward like this, but I'm forcing myself to move forward anyway, with no way back.
Fine, I take a deep breath. Only when there is no way to retreat can I move forward without ever looking back.
The journey has been quite smooth, which suggests that the war in the south has taken a turn for the better.
Halfway there, they were met by others. After making arrangements at each post station, the horses were rotated, and their journey became even faster. Judging by the days, at this pace, they would meet again in no more than five days.
Having escaped both natural disasters and man-made calamities, a broad and promising road lies ahead.
The team he sent to provide backup consisted of only seven men, but they were all clearly skilled fighters. The armor worn by the Nine-Headed Swordsman was cold and hard, yet familiar, which reassured him. This small team was well-rounded in both offense and defense, and seemed capable of withstanding all the flying arrows and stray arrows.
However, it was with these few people who made me feel relaxed that I had a nightmare, a nightmare that felt so real.
At that time, there were only two days left until the destination. The blizzard slowed down the journey. They said that if they had better horses, they might be able to get back in a day and a night after the snow stopped. Unfortunately, all the good horses were at the front line and they dared not keep them at the post station.
I relaxed. Whether it was a day or two, it was no big deal. His severed arm was well protected, and I was content.
Night had fallen, so I had to return to my room to rest. Seven strong, muscular men stood guard in the hall. They had taken turns keeping watch all the way to the capital, sparing me the worry and anxiety of being alone in a half-awake, half-asleep state.
On the night of my return journey, I usually slept well, except for this one night.
I know I'm dreaming, but I won't wake up.
In the dream, Basilji Yu was covered in blood, with a huge hole in his neck, proof that he was dead.
He chased after me, his hands clenched into claws, his mouth constantly screaming my name, my way of dying. Burned, riddled with arrows, skinned, disemboweled... each one was an extremely brutal and cruel torture. I kept running, desperately trying to maintain the distance between me and him, but his voice kept echoing in my ears, hindering my steps.
The road had no end, so I couldn't stop walking. I don't know how long I stood there in this stalemate, when suddenly, I tripped and fell heavily to the ground. The sinister laughter of Basilji Yu came so close behind me. His breath and the blood he spat out almost fell on me.
My heart felt like it had been thrown down, plummeting rapidly through the air, leaving me breathless.
I waited quietly for death to come, but all around me suddenly fell silent. There was no more of Basilji Yu's sinister laughter, no more of his heavy breathing, no more of the sound of thick blood splattering.
On the ground in front of me, there was a pair of feet. I looked up and saw Ji Mo Dongli. He was completely healthy and squatting in front of me, looking at me with a relaxed expression and a slight smile.
He tilted his head and offered his right hand: "Get up, the ground is cold."
I then extended my hand, which he gently grasped, his smile unchanged. Yet, a sudden chill ran through me, as if a cold, desolate wind were swirling around me.
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