The Blood Crown - Chapter 334

Chapter 334

Feng Ye led them to a cave. At some point, wolves began appearing on the mountain, one after another, until they filled the entire hillside. They followed the group, weaving through the forest as they moved forward.

Dismounting his horse, Feng Ye looked at the grass-covered cave entrance and said, “Bring me a saber.”

A guard presented the saber. “Wolf King, let me handle this.”

“Give it to me.” Feng Ye took the saber and started cutting the wild grass.

Yan Sikong spoke from the side, “Your injury—”

“Besides my injury!” Feng Ye abruptly turned his head, glaring at Yan Sikong. “And my duty as Wolf King, is there anything else you care about? You treat me like your trusted subordinate, always strategizing for me, solving my troubles. Does it even matter to you whether I’m Feng Ye or not, as long as I am the Wolf King?”

Yan Sikong looked at Feng Ye and replied calmly, “I haven’t seen Feng Ye in you for a long time.”

Feng Ye froze, staring blankly at Yan Sikong. A deep sadness welled up in his eyes. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips together and continued cutting the grass.

Yan Sikong wanted to offer words of comfort but couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he requested another saber and helped Feng Ye clear the overgrowth.

After clearing the entrance, the soldiers carried Feng Hun’s coffin inside. Feng Ye also stepped in, silently surveying the surroundings for a long time.

Yan Sikong stood beside Feng Hun’s coffin, imagining what it might have been like as a newborn—small, fluffy, and endearing. Two decades had passed in a flash. Life and death seemed like a cycle, bringing it back to where it all began.

A wolf’s life is like this. Is a human’s any different?

Feng Ye extended a hand, his long fingers gently brushing over the heavy coffin. In a low voice, he said, “I never told you why I kept Hun’er by my side.”

Yan Sikong responded, “No, you didn’t.”

“When I was a child, I often went to the mountains to play with wolves. They were my only companions. You were the first friend I ever made.” Feng Ye’s gaze lingered on Yan Sikong, separated by the coffin. “After returning from Datong, I missed you terribly. I even begged my father to let me go to Datong again next year to see you.”

Distant memories resurfaced vividly. Yan Sikong recalled two carefree children galloping across the fields. His emotions were a complex mix of sorrow and nostalgia.

“But instead of you, I received news that you had been exiled to the Northwest.” Feng Ye shook his head. “My father sent people to search for you there, only to bring back news of your death. I cried for a long time. After that, I could only go to the mountains to find solace with the wolves. It was then that my nursemaid’s wolf gave birth to a litter. Hun’er was the strongest of them, the only one who didn’t scramble for milk but instead crawled toward me.”

Yan Sikong pressed his palm against the coffin, as though he could still feel the warm, rough fur of that one-eyed giant wolf.

“I was just a child then and tricked myself into thinking you had reincarnated as this wolf. As I grew up, I knew it wasn’t true, but then the real you appeared before me.” Feng Ye’s expression was filled with sorrow. “I’ve always felt that our lives were destined to be entwined, but in reality, it’s just been me clinging to you all these years.”

Yan Sikong lowered his gaze, his eyes filled with melancholy.

Feng Ye was right. Perhaps they were destined to be bound for life, but being bound for life wasn’t necessarily a blessing. Like them, after weathering countless storms and changes, returning to the past was impossible.

Feng Ye took out an incense burner and offerings, lighting three sticks of incense. He placed them before the coffin and said softly, “Hun’er, tonight Sikong and I will stay here with you, keeping vigil. Though you are a wolf and don’t need human funeral rites, I want to accompany you one last time.”

Yan Sikong also lit three sticks of incense for Feng Hun, silently reciting Buddhist scriptures in his heart.

The guards set up a soft couch and lit a fire in the small cave. Sitting opposite Feng Hun’s coffin, the flickering firelight cast shadows on the stone walls. Instead of feeling eerie, the sight gave them a strange sense of warmth.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the mountain was enveloped in darkness, wolf howls echoed through the forest, one after another.

Yan Sikong couldn’t hide his sorrow. “They must have come to bid Hun’er farewell.”

“Yes.” Feng Ye turned to look at Yan Sikong. “Do you remember? We once spent a night in a cave with Hun’er.”

Yan Sikong met Feng Ye’s gaze. The firelight danced in those deep, dark eyes. For a moment, he thought to himself: When had those eyes lost their youthful exuberance and grown so solemn and shadowed? When had they stopped smiling?

How long had it been since he’d seen Feng Ye truly smile—not a bitter smile, not a cold smirk, not a mocking grin, but a genuine, joyous smile?

So long that he couldn’t even remember.

Yan Sikong felt a heavy weight pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe. “I remember,” he replied. He would always remember.

He recalled how they had been soaked by the rain, both drenched to the skin. It was the first time they had seen each other bare. Feng Ye’s teasing gaze from that night lingered in his mind. Every word they had exchanged, every look they had shared, still made his heart race.

Ten years later, the wolf that had kept watch over them that night had fallen into eternal sleep. Ten years later, they sat side by side, separated by an unbridgeable chasm.

The greatest tragedy in life is seeing something beautiful become unrecognizable.

At that moment, an overwhelming sadness engulfed Yan Sikong.

Lost in his memories, Feng Ye murmured, “Those were such good times. Everything was still there. Everything was still fine.”

Yan Sikong pressed his lips together.

Yes, those were good times. Back then, Hun’er was still peacefully sleeping by their side. Back then, they were still Feng Ye and Yan Sikong. Now, only the Wolf King and the “Fence-Sitter” remained.

Under the relentless blows of fate, their spirits had been scattered to the winds, left behind in every place where they had struggled, suffered, and fought. They could no longer piece themselves back together.

They could never find themselves again.

Feng Ye stared blankly at the flames. “It’s strange. Back then, I thought I had everything. Now, I feel I have nothing.”

“…Feng Ye, you can’t have everything.”

“In the past, whatever I wanted, I could always get. Except for you. You, the one I wanted most, I could never grasp. Even though you’re by my side now, I still feel…” Feng Ye spoke softly, “one day, you will leave me.”

Yan Sikong did not respond.

“During the days you were missing, I…” Just recalling those agonizing days and nights, Feng Ye trembled with fear. It was the most despairing, darkest, and most unbearable time of his life. The mere memory was enough to tear his heart apart. “I thought, as long as you’re alive, I want nothing else. Just that you’re alive, that’s enough.”

Feng Ye took a deep breath, suppressing the trembling in his voice as he continued, “Later, when I found you, I thought, as long as you’re by my side, that would be enough. Even if it’s just to look at you, even if it’s just to say a single word to you. As long as you’re here, I’d be content.” He shook his head. “But afterward, I wanted more and more. Yet every time I took one step forward, you’d retreat three steps. I racked my brain countless times, wondering what I must do for you to forgive me.”

“Feng Ye, I haven’t hated you for a long time.”

“That’s not enough.” Feng Ye’s bloodshot eyes glared at him. “It’s far from enough. I want you to love me.”

Yan Sikong frowned deeply.

“I’ve done everything I can do, and I’m still willing to do anything you want me to do. But…” Feng Ye smiled bitterly. “Will you really never feel anything for me again?”

Yan Sikong looked into Feng Ye’s eyes and said hoarsely, “As you wished, I stayed by your side. I’m willing to assist you for a lifetime. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s not enough.” Feng Ye’s face was illuminated by the flickering firelight, alternately bright and dark. “Especially since I know why you stayed, it feels even more insufficient.”

“…I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You’re so clever, do you really not understand? Last night, I had a long conversation with my uncle. He said he was utterly disappointed in me. He made me kneel before the ancestors and recount all the mistakes I’ve made.” Feng Ye’s eyes slowly turned red. “He said my path to the capital was paved with the blood and flesh of tens of thousands of Feng family soldiers, including his son who died on the battlefield. And yet, I gave it all up.”

Yan Sikong exhaled as if he had been holding his breath underwater for a long time and could finally breathe. He looked at Feng Ye, his expression too complex for words. “Do you regret it?”

Feng Ye’s bloodshot eyes stared at Yan Sikong fiercely. “That’s the question you truly wanted to ask me, isn’t it? You think I’ll regret it. You’ve always thought I’d regret saving Liaodong for your sake, regret giving up the world for you. Deep down, you’ve been waiting for me to tell you that I regret doing all of this for you, haven’t you?”

Yan Sikong’s gaze flickered as he found it hard to meet Feng Ye’s eyes.

“That’s why you’re always so cautious, hiding yourself and acting like a loyal servant who serves me tirelessly. You’re afraid that one day I’ll blame all my mistakes on you. So, you’re trying every way to compensate for me, unwilling to owe me anything. Isn’t that what you’re thinking? Isn’t that the reason you stayed?”

Yan Sikong clenched his fists tightly and stared at Feng Ye without blinking. “Won’t you regret it? If not now, then in the future? Who can guarantee a lifetime without regret?”

Feng Ye sneered mockingly. “Regret? If I could go back to the year I was eighteen and choose whether or not to meet you again, I’d still choose you. I’d still fall for you hopelessly. You believe in fate, don’t you? Isn’t this fate? So when the armies of Zhuo Letai besieged the city, and Chen Mu led troops to advance on Guangning, between you and the world, no matter how many times I choose, I’d still choose you. Because I could only choose to live with you or die with you. From that moment, I knew you were right when you said Chen Mu was more suitable to be emperor than I was…” His gaze was sharp as a wolf’s. “Because as long as it was for you, I, Feng Ye, have no regrets.”

Yan Sikong’s heart trembled violently. He opened his mouth, his brows gradually furrowing together. “I only…”

“You keep hiding yourself, refusing to show me even a shred of true emotion. It’s as if you’re trying to sort everything out for me, always ready to leave cleanly. Do you really think I can’t see through it?!” As his emotions surged, Feng Ye felt a sharp pain in his chest. His face turned pale, and he unconsciously clutched his wound.

“Feng Ye.” Yan Sikong quickly held him up. “Stop talking. You…”

“I have to say it.” Feng Ye stared deeply into his eyes. “You say nothing, not even a single heartfelt word. Then let me speak. I want to see how long it takes for that calm and indifferent mask of yours to finally come off!”

Yan Sikong froze, shaken by the determination in Feng Ye’s eyes. Those eyes seemed to penetrate his body and lay bare the fear and cowardice deep within his soul.

Those resolute, fearless, and unreserved eyes kept looking at Yan Sikong. Feng Ye asked, each word piercing like a dagger, “Do you want to leave?”

Yan Sikong swayed, his lips moving as if to speak, but no sound came out.

Feng Ye’s pupils instantly filled with boundless despair. He pointed to Feng Hun’s coffin with trembling fingers, his voice barely audible, “Before Hun’s spirit, dare you speak one word of truth? You’ve always wanted to leave. Every day you’ve stayed by my side, you’ve been thinking about when and how to leave me.”

Yan Sikong closed his eyes, barely stopping his tears from falling.

Yes, he believed Feng Ye would regret it. Sooner or later, Feng Ye would regret giving up a great empire and lofty ambitions for the sake of one person. When he was no longer Feng Ye’s unattainable desire, when his looks faded, when one day Feng Ye finally realized he was nothing more than an ordinary man and all the infatuation and obsession dissipated in an instant, Feng Ye would resent him.

People always say there’s no regret in a chess game, but how could one know without finishing the game?

When would Feng Ye’s regret arrive? Instead of treading on thin ice for the rest of his life, waiting for Feng Ye to regret, it was better to end the game early. At least this way, he wouldn’t have to see the hatred and blame in Feng Ye’s eyes again.

He couldn’t go through that a second time.

Yan Sikong’s silence revealed everything. Feng Ye felt as though countless arrows were piercing his heart. The pain was unbearable, making him wish for death. He wanted to consume the person before him, piece by piece, so they could never leave him. Overwhelmed by a surge of immense grief, he lost all reason. When he came to his senses, he had pressed Yan Sikong beneath him, ravaging those soft, yet heartless lips.

Their lips collided violently, and both tasted the thick flavor of blood. Neither could tell who was injured, as the pain in their hearts overshadowed everything else. They were driven by a madness that stripped them of all reason, leaving only raw emotion.

They kissed each other, using a ferocity as if they wanted to consume one another entirely.

Feng Ye tore at Yan Sikong’s clothes, as though trying to strip away every barrier that kept him from reaching Yan Sikong’s heart, even if it meant tearing through flesh and bone.

Suddenly, he froze.