Hong Chunji slapped the manuscript shut. Apparently not needing the next set of gory details recounted by the Northern king.

"He..." Hong Chunji trailed again into his lull of quiet. "He deserved something... He deserved to pay for something."

"And that is the third issue. I couldn't disagree more. No one should pay for their grief."

"Then we will agree to disagree." The prince said calmly as he stood, walking in an even pace back towards the door. "I'll be back." He mentioned as he shut the door.

Finally, Qing Xiashu was left on his own, wondering what he should do.

He decided on exploration as his new task. This town was just at the edge of the wilds. They were bound to have a strong cultivator presence to handle the leaking yao.

He still hadn't had the chance to repaint his stain since he left for the wilds. As long as his injuries hadn't been reported, he looked just about like anyone. There was just enough hair left to tie up, hiding how much was missing by wrapping it into a bun.

Pleasantly surprised by the temperature beyond the inn, Qing Xiashu breathed a deep relieved breath; it wasn't nearly as harsh here as it had been in the Northern capital.

Not that it could be described as warm either.

Working with his limping legs was one thing, but doing it in the cold was so much worse. Still he made his way down the market street, observing the stalls and wares. Smiling at the little abalone trinkets.

He was still irritated by Hong Chunji's...

Well...

Everything.

Everything was the man's fault in a way.

But Hong Chunji was trying to be kind.

And in Qing Xiashu's book that was certainly worth something.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

He decided to buy one of the little trinkets for the soon to be king before he began maneuvering back to the inn.

Birds whistled and sang in the morning sun, unphased by the fall of a nation.

The day would still rise.

The night would still fall.

The stars would still shine.

After weeks of horror, Qing Xiashu allowed himself to heave a long breath and simply relax in the soft sunlight.

It could have been worse.

He had survived after all.

Most hadn't.

His eye was gone.

His brother was gone.

But he wasn't gone.

Certainly that was worth everything.

As he reached out for the door, a fistfull of his already abused hair was snagged and yanked backwards.

"Our Prince spared you, and this is the thanks he gets?" Someone questioned, using a tone that sounded all too curious.

Qing Xiashu's remaining eye wasn't clear enough of its blear to properly recognize anything but the green of a Southern official.

Ah.

So this is how it was.

Coddle him for a few days.

To destroy anything that could be left.

Absently, he tried to pull his head away. "Where's Chunji?" He questioned.

If they were going to kill him by Hong Chunji's orders, the man would surely want to watch.

One of the officials laughed, twisting his arms behind him and forcing him to lean forward and walk forward or risk falling on his face. "You have the audacity to speak of our Prince so casually? Show some respect."

Well, at least Hong Chunji had some loyalists already.

He could hear the startle of a passerby, yet not a single person said a word. Not even when his arms were wrenched further until they both popped clear of their sockets.

He was going to be publicly executed right here and right now.

No time to escape or to stew in his own misery.

There was the distant sound of someone yelping, then screaming a moment later.

Blood was pooling around him.

Seeping further into his already stained clothes.

When he tried to push himself up, he found he lacked balance, like something had shifted his center of gravity horribly.

He collapsed again.

Only when his arm failed to protect his face from the fall did he realize it was because the entire limb was absent.

Someone was laughing, though the sound felt as if it were miles below the sea of blood.

Someone else was calling Hefeng.

Pleading.

Well, that could truly only be him.

But the voice sounded so raw and he could hardly recognize his own words.

He could see the flesh and meat of his left leg being flayed away from the bone.

But he couldn't feel the separation.

Only see through the lens of his eyes.

A far distant window.

Through that red stained blurry window, he saw Hong Chunji's face in the crowd.

Rushing closer.

And for just a moment.

He was relieved to see such a familiar face.

A loud sound interrupted his thoughts.

It was as though someone had dowsed out a lantern in a pitch dark room.

That is to say.

There was nothing at all.

•●•