Chapter 474: The Story: That Evening When the Sun was Setting like Blood

Chapter 474

To be honest, the four words "Dongli God of War" were already enough to earn admiration.

Since he first saw Zhao Changdu, he had only had respect for him in his heart. It was just a pity that such a man was dragged down to this state by the woman in his arms. No matter how he died for Gu Ying today, so what?

This woman had never known everything he had done for her.

And who would have known that the famous regent would live so humbly and pitifully before a woman?

He sneered lightly in his heart and drew out his long sword. The blade gleamed with an icy cold light as he walked step by step towards the man.

He knew that Zhao Changdu was already at the end of his rope.

This one stroke of his sword could easily sever his head.

However, to his surprise, even dosed with anesthetic perfume, Zhao Changdu actually still had the strength to grapple with him for over ten rounds!

He had almost lost his grip on the long sword in his hand!

Han Lin felt his scalp go numb with shock. He retreated several steps, nearly vomiting from the powerful true energy emanating from the man’s body.

Zhao Changdu breathed heavily. Shaken by the long sword, his numb body fell into the pool of blood.

He struggled to stand up and walked to Gu Ying's side, tenderly holding her in his arms.

The cold wind howled. Snowflakes drifted onto the bare branches. The man's long lashes quivered. Pure white snow mixed with blood fell, dropping onto Gu Ying’s pale cheeks.

Exhausted, he let out puffs of white mist with each heavy breath, then took a long inhale, feeling a tearing pain in his chest.

Two daggers were stabbed into his back. The wounds were so painful he found it hard to breathe.

Fortunately, he was hardened by years growing up battling on the warfront, so he could still endure such injuries.

Sweat soaked his head while blood mixed with tears trickled from his eyes.

He rigidly embraced the girl and limped to sit by the door of the dilapidated temple, leaning against the doorframe.

After resting for a while, he slowly lowered his eyelids, gazing affectionately at the girl still unconscious in his arms. The corners of his bloodstained lips tilted into a self mocking smile. “If I had known...I should have just taken you directly.”

“Hate me or curse me all you want.” He sighed softly. “Just don’t let it end like this for you and me.”

Han Lin touched the wound on his right arm and licked the corner of his mouth. Meeting the man's bloodshot eyes, such willpower and madness was truly astonishing.

It was just a pity that a hero like him would perish today.

He stepped forward with his sword again.

The world was silent in an instant.

Not a sound besides the falling snow, gently drifting down.

Jiang Yin looked upon the closed eyes of that head as it rolled to his feet. He suddenly burst out laughing crazily.

He threw down his sword and hauled Gu Ying out from Zhao Changdu’s embrace viciously, throwing her back into the dilapidated temple.

Pulling up the corners of his mouth in a mocking smile, he said, “Come, clean this place up.”

...

After so many years in the broken temple, Gu Ying had rarely dreamed such a peaceful and happy dream.

She slowly opened her eyes, their lifelessness still somewhat blurred. In her daze, she smelled a faint, unfamiliar fragrance in the temple that made her brow lift slightly.

People came and went frequently in this broken temple, and she was long used to all kinds of odors. But she had never smelled this strange yet somewhat familiar scent of sunken perfume before, casting her mind adrift.

She shifted her stiff body but her hands and feet still couldn’t move. Such a defeated expression rarely appeared on her face now.

It just so happened no one came to torment her that afternoon either.

She tilted her head, gazing at the sunset like blood outside the window. In this frozen world blanketed in miles of white, snowflakes danced in the air, a dot of red plum blossoming strikingly on a bare branch.

The sky and earth were left with only pure white.

She clearly felt very cold, wearing only a single garment. But for some reason, her back was filled with waves of warmth.

She struggled to turn her body sideways, sweeping her eyes around the interior of the temple.

The broken temple remained unchanged,

as if someone had come and gone, yet no one had.

Only that faint bloodstain revealed on the doorway made her pupils contract sharply.

In the growing dusk, the courtyard outside the broken temple was piled high with thick snowdrifts.

The north wind cut to the bone, snake-like, drilling into her marrow.

She stared blankly at that inexplicable blood mark as an odd sour sensation welled up from her heart. Her eyes suddenly moistened...

The year was Twenty-Eight Winter during the Tianqi era.

Gu Ying died.

Until her death, she never knew what had happened that afternoon in the Twenty-Sixth Year of Tianqi.