The Great Witch Temple was quiet. All the witches were preparing for the Witch Sacrificial Ceremony in five days. This remote place was some distance from the main hall. From afar, one could only hear the chime of the bells and the chanting of blessings, which were pleasing and ethereal amidst the noise.
Zong Luo was troubled nowadays. He didn’t know whether to follow Pei Qianxue’s advice and wait until after the Witch Sacrificial Ceremony to confess honestly, or to simply rush up and reveal everything.
To be fair, he naturally leaned towards the latter, to resolve it cleanly and directly, at least without having to taste the torment.
However, a slight difference in thought could lead to completely different results.
If possible, Zong Luo naturally hoped for room to maneuver.
But how could that be possible? He had personally written the death decree, indicating that Emperor Yuan had truly been furious. It was just wishful thinking.
But such despicable thoughts of wanting to maximize benefits were too sinful. The feeling of torment was like skewering Zong Luo and roasting him over a fire, rolling him forward and backward, double-roasting him with oil and fierce fire.
In the end, he hadn’t figured out a solution, and the culprit came to him again.
Zong Luo now felt that the words he had muttered in his heart on the snowy plain a month ago were nonsense. For him, he could manage to never see Yu Beizhou again, but it was annoying for Yu Beizhou to come to him over and over again.
Just like now.
Zong Luo prepared himself mentally, ready to confess everything and return what didn’t belong to him to Yu Beizhou.
As a result, Yu Beizhou was really good, he ran over and said such a headless and tailless sentence.
“Don’t go?”
Zong Luo laughed in anger. “Yu Beizhou, do you have a problem?”
Perhaps it was because the dust had settled in the past month, and he didn’t want to worry others around him. He forcibly suppressed that aimless and confused emotion, even when facing Yu Beizhou, he didn’t have the previous sense of despair, desolation, and emptiness on the surface.
He hid those things deep down, and they were only visible when they looked at each other.
Many times, Zong Luo couldn’t figure out what was going on in Yu Beizhou’s crazy head.
You say he didn’t care about what originally belonged to him, but he certainly did. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t hold a grudge against Zong Luo, who had taken his identity, and hate him to the bone.
In the quiet and narrow alley of the Witch Temple, they stared at each other, swords drawn and bows bent, leaving the pain to each other.
“Isn’t this the outcome you’ve always wanted to see? You’ve prepared a surprise for two lifetimes, can’t you guess what choice I would make?”
Yes, why?
Yu Beizhou stared deeply into these eyes filled with struggle and pain, dull and tired.
He was pleased because of the pain that was identical to his own, but his internal organs were also tightening, hurting to the extreme.
This was clearly the outcome he wanted to see, the scene he had been looking forward to. Even the dream of pulling down the compassionate immortal and staining him with the same dark pain as himself.
But why does it hurt so much?
But it doesn’t matter.
What Yu Beizhou was best at was speaking human language to humans and ghost language to ghosts. (TL: refers to people’s strong adaptability in the process of talking and doing things. Ability to adapt to the changing circumstances (slightly derogatory). Treat people how they want to be treated.)
Whether it’s feigning emotions or saying one thing and doing another, he’s always been the best.
He habitually raised a cynical smile. “Of course I’m here to help the Senior brother.”
The two of them stood in the center of two witch buildings, the weirdly shaped eaves cast a slanted shadow, falling on the face of the young man in red and white fur, merging with the shadow swept down by the eyelashes, showing the gloom in the bright smile vividly.
They were very close, their noses almost touching, their hot breath entwining with the cold breath, clearly spanning a sea of blood and deep hatred, full of murderous intent, but also ambiguous to the point of almost whispering in each other’s ears.
“Senior brother must not know, how did Emperor Yuan die in his previous life?”
Zong Luo wanted to turn around and leave, but this sentence lifted him up, made him clench his fists, and suddenly turned around.
They were already standing close, and with this movement, the pure white hair swept across Yu Beizhou’s cheek, with a few strands left on the side of his lips, like a cool kiss.
Seeing Zong Luo turn around, Yu Beizhou’s smile deepened, but it never reached his eyes.
He gently picked up a strand of frost, rubbing it with his fingertips. “Only this Junior brother knows about this.”
Indeed.
Perhaps Pei Qianxue could guess some clues from his dreams, or perhaps one day after dreaming, Ye Linghan, who had personally stolen the imperial edict in his previous life, could glimpse a little.
But it was Yu Beizhou who chopped and overthrew the old ministers after ascending the throne, and it was also Yu Beizhou who lived to the end. The only one who really knew the truth was him.
“If Senior brother stands closer to me, I’ll tell you.”
Hearing Yu Beizhou say this, Zong Luo didn’t want to listen anymore, and turned around with an indifferent expression.
“Senior brother really can’t take a joke.”
The beautiful young man licked his lips, his crimson tongue seemed to be stained with the world’s deadliest poison, his light laugh was like an unshakeable cold ghost.
He opened his mouth in a good mood, as if talking to himself. “That imperial edict was indeed written by Emperor Yuan, but it was not bestowed by him. When Senior brother received the imperial edict, Emperor Yuan was still in a coma in the sleeping chamber, and the Imperial City was in chaos.”
Zong Luo’s expression did not change.
He had known for a long time that his death was the result of several princes, of course, here representing the Old Fifth was the old general, not Zong Yuanwu’s indication. At this moment, he didn’t seem surprised.
“After Senior brother committed suicide under the Imperial City, about a day later, Emperor Yuan woke up.”
Yu Beizhou recalled that scene.
At that time, he had just settled Zong Luo’s body, ordered people to sew up the self-inflicted wound, and used the most expensive witch medicine for preservation. He turned his head and heard the news of Emperor Yuan’s awakening in the palace.
When Emperor Yuan was alive, none of the princes and ministers who harbored ulterior motives dared to move. After he fainted, they only dared to make some small actions that were both open and covert, even forging the imperial edict, stealing the handwritten one that should have been destroyed. They were afraid that the emperor would blame them when he woke up.
