The Blood Crown - Chapter 318

Chapter 318

 

It was already late at night, and the city walls were brightly lit, with the defending soldiers standing ready at their posts.

 

Zhuo Letai had not yet launched an attack. After heavy losses while filling the trenches, his forces were exhausted. Now, they were merely surrounding the city to rest and recuperate.

 

Seeing that Zhuo Letai had no immediate plans to attack, Yan Sikong finally stepped down from the city wall. After standing in the cold wind for an entire day, his legs were nearly numb from the chill.

 

He had sent four guards, one after another, to check on Feng Ye’s condition, but the door to that room remained firmly shut. His heart, therefore, stayed suspended in mid-air. Unable to wait any longer, he decided to return and see for himself. He instructed Liang Huiyong to inform him immediately if anything happened and then mounted a horse, riding swiftly toward the posthouse.

 

Inside Feng Ye’s room, the flickering candlelight seeped through the cracks in the door, radiating a warm orange glow.

 

In the courtyard, a group of guards and servants waited in silence. Yan Sikong approached them and took a deep breath. “…How is it?” He struggled to remain composed, but his voice still trembled slightly as he spoke.

 

“My lord,” Feng Ye’s personal guard bowed, “only the two disciples have been going in and out. They won’t say anything when asked.”

 

Yan Sikong frowned at the tightly closed door and walked toward it.

 

After winter arrived, doors and windows were covered with thick quilts to keep out the cold. Even though Yan Sikong leaned close, all he could hear was the faint rustling inside. As for what was being said, he couldn’t make out a single word.

 

His heart burned with anxiety. On the one hand, he longed to know what was happening inside, yet on the other hand, he feared the truth. As long as that door remained closed, Feng Ye was still alive.

 

Standing blankly before the door, he suddenly understood what Feng Ye must have felt during the days he was missing.

 

Every second drowned in pain, despair, and fear, like a knife slicing through his heart.

 

He knew that even if he were to die a thousand times over, he could never truly forget his feelings for Feng Ye. Feng Ye was the only person he had ever loved, the one who had brought him true happiness.

 

He just didn’t want it anymore—didn’t want to be tethered by it.

 

What he had truly let go of were all the things Feng Ye had given him, both good and bad. He no longer yearned for them, nor did he harbor resentment. Feng Ye taking the arrow for him had settled their debts once and for all.

 

But no matter where he was in this world, even if separated by thousands of miles, he still wished Feng Ye well.

 

Was even this too much to ask of heaven?

 

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Yan Sikong’s heart tightened instantly, and his eyes widened in terror, his breath nearly ceasing.

 

The door opened, and the young boy came out carrying a basin of blood-filled water.

 

Yan Sikong stepped in front of him, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. Sweat rolled down his face.

 

The boy looked at him and was about to speak when a voice came from inside. “Let him in.”

 

It was Yuan Nanyu’s voice!

 

Yan Sikong tried to lift his leg, but it wouldn’t move. Fear gripped him like a shackle. Not long ago, he had faced an army of tens of thousands without flinching.

 

Taking a deep breath, he suppressed his panic and stepped over the threshold into the room.

 

The brazier inside burned hotly, making the room stifling. The air was thick with the smells of blood, medicine, and alcohol, blending so strongly that they nearly made Yan Sikong gag.

 

Que Linghu and Yuan Nanyu stood by Feng Ye’s bed, their robes soaked in sweat and blood. The young girl disciple squatted nearby, cleaning blood-soaked cloths.

 

Yan Sikong stood at the door, his gaze fixed on Yuan Nanyu, silently pleading for an answer.

 

Yuan Nanyu, his face weary and his hair damp with sweat, rasped, “Second Brother, he’s stable for now.”

 

Yan Sikong’s legs went weak, and he leaned heavily against the doorframe, his eyes red with emotion. In a trembling voice, he said, “This junior… thanks Master Que for saving his life. I vow to repay this kindness, even at the cost of my own life.”

 

Que Linghu, looking pale but not fatigued, replied, “I’ll remember that.”

 

“Master, you should rest,” Yuan Nanyu said respectfully.

 

The young disciples came forward to assist Que Linghu, helping him out of the room.

 

Only then did Yan Sikong manage to move his heavy legs and walk forward.

 

Yuan Nanyu glanced at Feng Ye lying on the bed, then at Yan Sikong. With lingering fear, he said, “It’s thanks to Master’s intervention that Feng Ye survived.”

 

Yan Sikong approached Yuan Nanyu and suddenly embraced him, burying his face in Yuan Nanyu’s shoulder.

 

Yuan Nanyu hugged him back. “Second Brother, it’s all right now. He’s strong and resilient; he’ll pull through.”

 

“He survived because you gave him… such a precious Xuantian Pill,” Yan Sikong said softly.

 

“Medicine is meant to save lives, and I didn’t just save him,” Yuan Nanyu said, stroking Yan Sikong’s back. “With him alive, there’s still hope for Liaodong.”

 

Yan Sikong nodded. “Thank you, Yuer. Without you, I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

 

Yuan Nanyu chuckled softly. “There’s no need for thanks between us.”

 

Closing his eyes, Yan Sikong felt at peace in the warm and solid embrace, even though the smell clinging to Yuan Nanyu wasn’t pleasant.

 

Yuan Nanyu suddenly said, “Second Brother, do you know why I liked wearing the same clothes as you when we were young?”

 

“I know,” Yan Sikong whispered.

 

“It wasn’t just because I wanted to feel closer to you,” Yuan Nanyu said with a laugh. “Back then, I felt that we were one, inseparable. As long as I wore the same clothes as you, we were like the same person. Your brilliance was my brilliance, your goodness my goodness, and your pain… my pain too. That’s why you never need to thank me.”

 

Yan Sikong’s voice choked. “Yuer, I often feel I don’t deserve your devotion.”

 

“You spent half your life avenging the Yuan family. If anyone is unworthy, it’s me…” Yuan Nanyu smiled. “There’s no point arguing about that. I’ve always said we’re one. What you do for me, I’ll do for you. It’s only natural.”

 

Yan Sikong nodded firmly. “All right, all right.”

 

“Go check on him. Hun’er has been by his side the whole time. If anything happens, call Master’s disciples,” Yuan Nanyu said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I’ll go rest for a while.”

 

“Yuer, I’m afraid you can’t rest just yet,” Yan Sikong said, his voice now steady. “Zhuo Letai has begun his assault on the city.”

 

Yuan Nanyu asked in surprise, “When did this happen?”

 

“Today,” Yan Sikong replied. “The Feng Family Army is now under the command of General Liang, but they lack coordination. With Feng Ye injured and morale low, you must go and stabilize the troops immediately.”

 

Yuan Nanyu straightened up and said, “Understood, I’ll head there right away.” He hurried off without delay.

 

Yan Sikong took a deep breath and walked to the bedside.

 

Feng Hun was still lying on the cushion nearby, fast asleep. It had been highly alert before, waking at the slightest sound, but now it remained motionless even as someone approached.

 

Even without Que Linghu’s explanation, Yan Sikong knew that Feng Hun didn’t have much time left. Perhaps it was holding on by sheer willpower, waiting for Feng Ye to wake up.

 

Yan Sikong felt a pang in his chest, his nose stinging. He gazed at the pale, unconscious Feng Ye, emotions surging within him. Silently, he sat by the bed and extended his hand to touch Feng Ye’s cheek.

 

What his fingers felt was warm skin and rough stubble.

 

Yan Sikong’s eyes widened as he fought back tears. His heart ached, and he leaned helplessly against the bedhead, his chest rising and falling as he stared blankly into space.

 

Feng Ye was alive. Alive.

 

That was enough for him.

 

—

 

Yan Sikong, exhausted, fell asleep leaning against the bedhead. He was jolted awake by a muffled groan in his ear.

 

Realizing that he had dozed off unknowingly, he felt remorse. However, since Liang Huiyong hadn’t sent anyone and Yuan Nanyu was still holding the city walls, it seemed Zhuo Letai had not yet begun his assault.

 

Yan Sikong looked down to see Feng Ye frowning deeply, his face drenched in sweat, murmuring faintly in his sleep, seemingly tormented by nightmares.

 

Yan Sikong picked up a cloth and gently wiped the sweat from Feng Ye’s face.

 

Feng Ye’s eyelashes fluttered incessantly, as though he was struggling in the mire of a nightmare. After a long time, he slowly opened his eyes.

 

Yan Sikong’s heart raced as he stared at Feng Ye without blinking.

 

Feng Ye’s gaze shifted from confusion to clarity, taking a long time. It was as if a thin veil of mist lifted, revealing a familiar face before him.

 

“Feng Ye, you’re awake…” Yan Sikong said nervously. “How do you feel? Can you speak?”

 

Feng Ye stared at Yan Sikong for a long time before opening his mouth, his voice hoarse. “Kong’er…”

 

Yan Sikong exhaled a long sigh, murmuring, “You’re awake… you’re awake… That’s wonderful.”

 

Feng Ye’s eyes glistened with moisture as he gazed unblinkingly at Yan Sikong.

 

Yan Sikong spoke softly, “You nearly lost your life… Anyone else would have died without question. Perhaps even the King of Hell dares not take you.”

 

Feng Ye said weakly, “Seeing you again… is wonderful.”

 

“You should thank Yuer,” Yan Sikong replied.

 

“The Jin army…” Feng Ye tried to speak but seemed to strain his chest wound, causing his face to contort in pain.

 

“Zhuo Letai has begun the assault, just as we planned. Guangning is holding on,” Yan Sikong said, wiping his face before standing up. “Don’t speak anymore. I’ll call for the doctor.”

 

“No…” Feng Ye wanted to stop Yan Sikong, but even speaking required effort.

 

Yan Sikong leaned down, looking into Feng Ye’s eyes. “You need to rest now.”

 

“Don’t go…” Feng Ye’s chapped lips moved slightly, pleading. “Don’t go.”

 

Yan Sikong lowered his gaze and said softly, “I’m not leaving. I’m just going to call the doctor to check on you.”

 

“Kong’er, don’t go.” Feng Ye’s eyes reddened. His mind was still foggy, and amidst the chaos in his head, the person before him was the only one he deemed important.

 

“I’ll be back soon.” Yan Sikong glanced at Feng Ye before turning to leave.

 

“No…” Feng Ye trembled all over but could only watch as Yan Sikong disappeared from view. A sharp pain tore through his chest.

 

Yan Sikong went to find Que Linghu’s disciples, who once again brought Que Linghu. By then, Feng Ye’s consciousness had grown hazy again, and he was muttering Yan Sikong’s name under his breath.

 

Que Linghu checked Feng Ye’s pulse and applied acupuncture to calm him, gradually stabilizing his condition and putting him back into a deep sleep.

 

Yan Sikong’s worried gaze shifted between Feng Ye and Que Linghu.

 

Que Linghu finished his work, took the cloth handed to him by a disciple, and wiped his hands. “He’s fine now. When he wakes up again, he can have some liquid food.”

 

Yan Sikong let out a long sigh of relief.

 

Que Linghu glanced at Feng Ye. “He’s one of the strongest individuals I’ve ever treated. If it were anyone else with injuries this severe, even immortals couldn’t have saved them.”

 

“All thanks to Master Que’s unparalleled skills.”

 

Que Linghu looked at Yan Sikong. “If he hadn’t been injured for the sake of Liaodong’s people, even the Emperor himself couldn’t have persuaded me to leave the Medicine Valley.”

 

“Though Master Que resides in the secluded Medicine Valley, your heart remains with the world. It is truly admirable. To meet someone like you, a figure akin to an immortal, is the greatest fortune of my life.”

 

“Enough.” Que Linghu smirked. “I’ve heard that Yan Sikong has a silver tongue, capable of winning people over effortlessly with words.”

 

“What I say now comes from the heart. My gratitude to Master Que is beyond words.”

 

Que Linghu stood up. “You should thank your brother well. That Xuantian Pill is a rare treasure. I only hope that it saved someone who will bring peace and stability to the country, not an ambitious warmonger who will plunge the world into chaos.”