The Blood Crown - Chapter 179

In his slumber, Yan Sikong was plagued by nightmares until he finally awoke in the afternoon of the next day.

Upon waking, he found himself no longer in a cell but in a small military tent. His body had been cleaned and he was dressed in fresh, dry clothes.

Recalling what happened before he lost consciousness, his heart raced, as if it wanted to burst out of his chest. His breaths came in quick, shallow gasps as he clutched the bedding, trying to steady the waves of pain that surged through him.

Even now, he could not believe whether it was all just a nightmare. Did Feng Ye really hate him so much? Was Yu’er truly still alive? He had dreamt of Yu’er countless times over the years, only to wake up and feel as if he had stepped into empty space, falling into deeper despair.

Yet the dream was too real, too deeply etched in his mind to be dismissed. But what he hadn’t imagined in his dreams was that, though Yu’er was alive, the joy he felt was not as overwhelming as he had imagined. The way Feng Ye and Yuan Nanyu looked at him, and the words they spoke, felt like arrows piercing his heart…

Yan Sikong closed his eyes, feeling utterly exhausted. He would rather continue sleeping than face the calamities of this world. Even during the most perilous times, he had never considered giving up. But at this moment, he felt an inclination to let everything go.

It seemed that the torment from an enemy’s cruelty was nothing compared to the words of a loved one.

His entire life seemed to have been lived for others, and now, he was almost losing the essence of “himself.”

He felt his heart turn to ashes.

After a while, someone entered the military tent. Yan Sikong’s heart tightened, but he relaxed when he saw that the newcomer was the young soldier who had been guarding him the previous day.

The soldier, seeing that Yan Sikong was awake, quickly put down the food and medicine he was carrying and approached him with much more respect. “Sir, are you feeling any better?”

Yan Sikong looked at the young soldier, his gaze making the soldier uneasy. After a long pause, he asked, “How old are you? What’s your name, and where are you from?” His voice was still hoarse, his throat feeling as if it were burned.

“I’m eighteen years old, named Wu Liuqi, from Changde,” the soldier said, helping Yan Sikong sit up and pouring him a glass of water. “Please drink some water, Sir.”

Yan Sikong held the glass but did not drink.

Eighteen years old… When he reunited with Feng Ye, Feng Ye was also eighteen. That age marked adulthood, yet still retained a youthful innocence. He could not forget how Feng Ye had been at eighteen—innocent and proud, like a rising sun, shining brightly and unreservedly on everything around him.

Feng Ye was right; at that time, he had been too young to be enamored with himself. Now that he was grown up, he had naturally become more sober.

But who among his childhood companions had truly known him? Was he really so unaware? Perhaps he simply did not want the “Yan Sikong” in his heart to be himself…

Looking at Wu Liuqi’s pure and bright eyes, Yan Sikong stiffly raised his hand and took a sip of water.

“Sir, please eat. After eating, take your medicine,” Wu Liuqi said, moving a low stool to the side of the bed.

“Leave me alone for now. I’ll eat later.”

“But…” Wu Liuqi hesitated, “I need to see you eat.”

Yan Sikong shook his head wearily. “Leave me alone.”

Wu Liuqi hesitated for a moment before stepping out.

Yan Sikong stared blankly at the empty space in front of him, his mind a blank slate. He even momentarily forgot his purpose for being here.

Before long, the tent’s flap was lifted again, and a gust of autumn wind blew in, making the inside of the tent feel chilly. Only someone with authority would dare lift the flap like that, so Yan Sikong took a deep breath and slowly turned his face. It was Yuan Nanyu, still wearing his mask.

Yan Sikong looked at Yuan Nanyu, his eyes growing warm, but he controlled his emotions.

Yuan Nanyu sat down at the side of the bed and glanced at the untouched food. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not hungry,” Yan Sikong replied. He wasn’t being pretentious; he genuinely felt no hunger, probably because an overwhelming sense of emptiness had engulfed him. Even his stomach felt hollow.

“You need to eat regardless,” Yuan Nanyu said. “You shouldn’t neglect your body. This isn’t like you.”

“Like what?” Yan Sikong asked with a faint smile. “If you don’t remember me, how can you know what’s like me?”

Yuan Nanyu lowered his head, remaining silent for a moment. “Over the years, we’ve been keeping a close watch on your every move.”

“Oh, so you learned about me from others.”

“Didn’t they tell you?” Yuan Nanyu frowned. “You’ve avenged your father. You’ve committed many wrongs in the past, so make amends. You’ve already confessed your sins. Is there anything left to argue about?”

“I have nothing to argue about,” Yan Sikong said, looking at Yuan Nanyu with a face full of bitterness. “What will you do with someone like me who has done so much wrong?” He couldn’t help but think, if Yu’er were still Yu’er, he would surely understand…

“Don’t worry. The Wolf King won’t kill you. Even if you didn’t come, we would find a way to lure the Datong Army. Our goals are the same, and you are important.”

“Unfortunately, the Wolf King himself said he wouldn’t believe a word I say,” Yan Sikong mocked. “What does he plan to do with me?”

“He will discern for himself,” Yuan Nanyu said, picking up the bowl of food. “You’ve only caught a cold and are weak. With a few days of rest and timely medication, you’ll recover. First, eat your meal.”

 

Yan Sikong grabbed Yuan Nanyu’s wrist, pressing it down, and stared into his eyes. “You only saw my elder brother. Did you see my elder sister or my mother?”

 

Yuan Nanyu sighed and shook his head. “Half a year ago, my elder brother joined us, which allowed us to reunite. But at that time, the war was raging, and I was commanding an army. It was impossible for me to leave. Now, I am even farther away, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit them.”

 

“My elder brother never liked me, but my elder sister wouldn’t deceive you.” Yan Sikong tightened his grip on Yuan Nanyu’s wrist. “Would you dare to send a letter to my elder sister to clarify the truth of that year?”

 

Yuan Nanyu stared at Yan Sikong blankly for a moment before replying, “Alright, I’ll send the letter today.”

 

Yan Sikong took a deep breath, a glimmer of hope rising in his heart. He said with a trembling voice, “Yuan Nanyu, take off your mask and let me… see you.”

 

Yuan Nanyu replied solemnly, “Don’t call me Yuan Nanyu.”

 

Yan Sikong clenched his fists.

 

“If you want to be Yan Sikong, then be Yan Sikong. To me, whether you are Yan Sikong or Yuan Nanyu, both are unfamiliar names. I don’t care, but don’t call me Yuan Nanyu. It feels awkward. You can call me Que Wang instead.”

 

Yan Sikong’s heart ached, and he could only softly respond with an “Okay.”

 

Yuan Nanyu removed his mask.

 

Yan Sikong gazed quietly at the handsome face that closely resembled his own and then reached out to gently touch the tattooed character on his forehead.

 

Criminals exiled by the court had to undergo tattooing, and on that smooth, full forehead was the clear character for “prisoner.” However, it had faded significantly over time.

 

Yuan Nanyu spoke calmly, “My master applied a plaster for me years ago, and I have been applying it every night before sleep for over a decade, which is why it has faded. It can be covered by makeup, but it can’t be completely erased, so I usually keep my face covered.”

 

“Was your master good to you?”

 

Mentions of his master softened Yuan Nanyu’s expression. He smiled faintly. “I was naughty when I was young and often got punished, but although my master was strict, he treated me very well.”

 

“That’s good.” Yan Sikong said with a hint of sorrow, “That’s good.”

 

He suddenly felt much clearer. Yuan Nanyu being alive might be the greatest blessing in his life. He had once been willing to trade his life for Yuan Nanyu’s. Now that both of them were alive and reunited, what more could he hope for?

 

As for Feng Ye… if fate was unkind, why force it?

 

Under Yuan Nanyu’s urging, Yan Sikong ate a few bites of food and took his medicine.

 

Yuan Nanyu checked his forehead. “You still have some fever. It will get better in a few days. Eat on time. I am busy with military affairs and can’t come to see you every day.”

 

“If I don’t eat, will I get to see you every day?”

 

“You…” Yuan Nanyu was at a loss for words.

 

“I miss you very much.” Yan Sikong looked deeply at Yuan Nanyu, his eyes reddening. “For seventeen years, I have always thought of you.”

 

Yuan Nanyu was deeply affected by the sadness on Yan Sikong’s face. It truly did not seem feigned, but he had to be cautious. He bit his lip and put his mask back on to hide his emotions. “I will visit you when I have the time.”

 

Yan Sikong sighed deeply.

 

Yuan Nanyu took a few steps and then turned back. “Don’t defy the Wolf King. He is a born commander, and his orders are absolute. Don’t bring trouble upon yourself.”

 

Yan Sikong sneered. “No one understands him better than I do.”

 

“…He has become increasingly irritable and cold over the years. He may not be the same person you once knew.”

 

Yan Sikong remained silent.

 

He had long seen the current Feng Ye and did not need Yuan Nanyu to remind him.

 

After taking the medicine, Yan Sikong felt drowsy again and lay back down on the bed. It was merely a common cold with a fever, not enough to make someone like him, who had practiced martial arts for years, so weak. This weakness seemed more from the turmoil within his blood and energy. He did not even want to move a finger, feeling as though he could not find a purpose to get better.

 

As night fell, the cold wind blew through the military tent. Wu Liuqi, worried about Yan Sikong catching a cold, had lit a charcoal fire early and stood by it, yawning frequently.

 

In a semi-conscious state, Yan Sikong suddenly felt a cold wind rush in, cutting through the warm air like a sharp sword, causing him to shiver. He immediately woke up and, through his blurry eyes, saw a tall figure blocking the tent entrance, bringing in the cold air from outside.

 

Yan Sikong was fully awake now.

 

Wu Liuqi, just waking from his stupor, saw the newcomer and hurriedly knelt on the ground. “Wolf King, forgive me, Wolf King, forgive me.”

 

As Feng Ye entered the tent, his wolf-like eyes remained fixed on Yan Sikong. He waved his hand and said coldly, “Leave.”

 

Wu Liuqi bowed and quickly left.

 

Yan Sikong sat up on the bed, watching Feng Ye approach with his heart pounding.

 

When Feng Ye was close, Yan Sikong noticed a smell of alcohol, making him even more nervous. He was unsure when he had begun to feel so estranged and fearful of Feng Ye.

 

He suddenly realized that he could barely find the youthful shadow of the boy he once knew in the cold, ruthless, and dark Wolf King. How could he foolishly think he understood this person?

 

Feng Ye sat down at the edge of the bed. Yan Sikong had to muster great self-control to suppress his emotions, but his physical weakness still betrayed him.

 

Feng Ye slightly curled his lips. “Are you afraid of me?”

 

Yan Sikong replied expressionlessly, “My life is in your hands. Shouldn’t I be afraid?”

 

“Stop pretending.” Feng Ye sneered, “You know I won’t kill you. If I killed you, who would help me control the Datong Army?” He moved closer, his eyes shamelessly examining Yan Sikong as if he were prey in a cage.

 

Yan Sikong felt suffocated by Feng Ye’s dominating aura. What had Feng Ye gone through in these three years…

 

Feng Ye suddenly gripped his chin. “Que Wang came to see you and advised me not to make things difficult for you. Yan Sikong, if it comes to winning people over, no one surpasses you. Even back then, you managed to fool me into thinking you were someone else.”

 

Yan Sikong coldly said, “What did you call me? Did you forget you said last night that I’m not Yan Sikong?”

 

“You are certainly not Yan Sikong, but you have been using that name for over a decade. How can you expect everyone to change how they address you? Besides, names are ultimately just names.” Feng Ye’s voice turned cold. “Even if you use this name, you can never become him, and I will never be deceived by you again.”

 

Yan Sikong’s eyes filled with bloodshot tears. If it were another time or another person, he would argue fiercely with Feng Ye over this matter. But now, he did not want to argue. First, he was utterly disappointed; second, he realized that Feng Ye would not listen. Feng Ye had already convinced himself that he was a “thoroughly deceitful” imposter. It was the only way Feng Ye could justify the deception and find an outlet for his resentment.

 

Whether he was Yan Sikong or Yuan Nanyu did not matter. What mattered was that Feng Ye hated him and wanted him to be false.

 

There was no need for further words.

 

Seeing Yan Sikong’s silence, Feng Ye grew even angrier. He tightened his grip on Yan Sikong’s smooth jawline. “But you’ve gained so many benefits by using the name ‘Yan Sikong’ from me. I’ll make you pay it all back!”

 

Yan Sikong’s heart ached, and he gritted his teeth. “What do you want me to repay? I have already avenged my great grudge and have no regrets. Take this worthless life if you wish!”

 

Feng Ye’s face twisted with a cruel expression. He suddenly grabbed Yan Sikong’s disheveled black hair, forcing him to look up, and violently sealed his lips with a brutal, passionate kiss.

 

Yan Sikong’s eyes widened in shock. He pushed against Feng Ye’s chest, but his body was too weak to move Feng Ye even an inch. He could only be dominated by Feng Ye’s aggressive tongue, which forced open his mouth and greedily sucked.

 

Feng Ye acted like a starved wolf, savoring the taste, leaving Yan Sikong dizzy and without the strength to resist.

 

When they finally separated, Yan Sikong panted heavily. His pale face, with the slightly swollen lips now red and enticing, along with his misty eyes and weak body, further stirred Feng Ye’s primal instincts, making him want to ravage him mercilessly.

 

“You…” Yan Sikong was breathless, captivated by the desire in Feng Ye’s eyes.

 

Feng Ye’s long fingers gently traced Yan Sikong’s cheek. “I heard Xi’er is pregnant. How many months along is she?”

 

Yan Sikong dared not move. The tender touch of Feng Ye’s hand felt as though it were a wolf’s tongue licking him.

 

“Speak. How many months?”

 

“…I am not what you think with her.”

 

“Not what I think?” Feng Ye looked at the red marks on Yan Sikong’s snow-white neck, left by a whip, and couldn’t help but recall the frail feeling of that neck when he had held it the previous night. He struggled to suppress the raging jealousy in his chest, or else he might devour this person on the spot.

 

Yan Sikong trembled. “Feng Ye, what exactly do you want?”

 

“What do I want?” Feng Ye forcefully pushed Yan Sikong down onto the bed and leaned over him. “I want to do what I’ve wanted to do for four years. You used to be so ecstatic when I took you. Do you think a woman can satisfy you?”

 

Yan Sikong gritted his teeth. “You… even now, in this situation, you still think of that?”

 

“Why not?” Feng Ye revealed a chilling smile. “You swore to me with your father’s name that you would be mine in life and death. Even if you marry others and have many descendants, you will still be mine!” Feng Ye’s smile grew cruel. “Moreover, to me, you are now only of this much use.”

 

“Feng Ye!” Yan Sikong pressed against Feng Ye’s chest. “You’re drunk. Calm down!”

 

“I’m perfectly clear-headed. I’ve been drunk on you for so many years; now, I’m finally sober.” Feng Ye smiled, revealing a row of sharp white teeth. “Back then, to win me over, you didn’t hesitate to spread your legs like a prostitute. Now, why are you pretending?”

 

Feng Ye ripped open Yan Sikong’s clothing.

 

Yan Sikong’s heart felt like it was being torn apart. Facing the face he once loved deeply and yearned for day and night, he slapped Feng Ye hard across the face.

 

Feng Ye did not flinch. He slightly turned his head, a trace of cruelty evident in his expression. He pinned Yan Sikong down and whispered in his ear, “I heard that those with a fever feel especially hot down there. It’s especially pleasant to insert into them. I’ve always wanted to try.”

 

Yan Sikong’s eyes were filled with pain.

 

Who turned Feng Ye into this?

 

Was it him…