Zhi’er was startled.
"This is Yan He’s husband, Yan Song."
Feng Fuce glanced at her: "How do you recognize him?"
"I’ve seen his portrait, just behind his morial tablet." Zhi’er pursed her lips.
Ordinary spirit demons, if they want to absorb human essence blood, so will purposely transform into the victim’s family or friends.
It’s just to deceive people.
But, Zhi’er and the others can tell.
The man still lingering in the midst of war smoke was not a transformation of any spirit demon.
He was indeed Yan He’s husband, who had been dead for twenty years.
Feng Fuce stepped forward.
Yan Song obviously felt deeply threatened.
He imdiately raised his long sword at Feng Fuce: "Do not step any closer."
Feng Fuce’s eyes were cold: "Either you co with us, or you are scattered to the winds, your choice."
But Yan Song tightly gripped the long sword.
He was covered in scars, yet his gaze was quite resolute.
"I will not go with you, nor will I die! I still want to protect my wife. I promised her, in this life and the next, never to be separated from her!"
Zhi’er frowned: "But you are already dead, the paths of humans and ghosts are different, staying by her side will harm her!"
Yan Song imdiately looked at her.
"With here, the Ghost ssenger cannot take her soul! Even though Yin Yang separates us, we are together daily like any normal couple."
"Anyone who wants to separate us is my enemy, and I will fight to the death!"
After he said this, the fierce flas of war transford into sparks, spewing towards Zhi’er and Feng Fuce.
Yan Song, when alive, was a minor General, his destiny carried a murderous aura.
No wonder ordinary demons and ghosts were no match for him.
"Besides, for so many years, Yan He offered her blood to commorate him, granting him imnse power."
"Feng Fuce imdiately stood in front of Zhi’er."
"His gaze sharp and cold: "Then you’ve chosen to be obliterated? Let fulfill your wish."
Feng Fuce slightly lifted his gaze, and the Demonic Qi from his body transford into thousands of long black-red flas!
Suddenly, like ropes, they tightly wrapped around Yan Song’s body.
Even if he struggled to cut them with his sword and finally tried to evade, it was too late.
"The power difference between him and Feng Fuce was huge, defeat was inevitable."
"Ultimately, Yan Song fell straight to the ground."
"Demonic Qi cannibalized his soul."
It should have been a feeling of intense pain, but Yan Song was a hard-headed man, refusing to scream.
Feng Fuce intended to kill him, but Zhi’er stepped forward and gently pressed Feng Fuce’s hand.
She said softly: "I have a few words to say to him."
Only then did Feng Fuce turn his cold gaze and retract the flas.
Yan Song was montarily freed.
Yet he still stubbornly gritted his teeth: "I will not leave, nor retreat!"
Zhi’er looked down at him.
Those lively, dark eyes held only understanding and sympathy.
"Of course, you can choose to remain with her, defying the rules that separate the living and the dead, ignoring dire consequences for a fleeting happiness."
"But Yan Song, think carefully, are you truly happy, is this really a good thing for your wife?"
"Losing you, she certainly is sorrowful, but do you know that the price of your reunion is her lifespan."
Yan Song knew, of course.
But he couldn’t bear to part with his wife.
He lowered his head, gritting his teeth, eyes reddening.
Zhi’er waved her hand, sending him into the room.
Yan He was lying asleep on the bed.
She didn’t seem to be sleeping soundly, frowned tightly.
Yan Song fell beside her without waking her.
Zhi’er lifted the sleeve on her arm.
On it, dozens of knife-made scars were shockingly visible.
User Comments
0 comments from readers