The group's favorite little Fubao has become the most arrogant kid in the whole imperial city

Chapter 131 How Ironic
Xihe and the other two arrived shortly afterwards. She had vomited blood and was a little weak. At this moment, she was leaning weakly in Xiao Minxuan's arms.

Nangong Yan had gone completely crazy. He grabbed a man and yelled, "I'm asking you! Was there a body delivered the day before yesterday? It was a pretty woman, about this tall."

The man was startled, and his mind raced with fear. He suddenly realized, "Yes, a man brought a woman's body here the afternoon before yesterday. The woman was exactly like what you described, tall, thin, and pretty."

"Yes! Where is she?"

"Yes, it was burned. That pile of ashes behind you was burned together with some unwanted debris and straw."

Nangong Yan was stunned, and for a moment it seemed as if time had stopped, with only the man's words remaining in his ears.

The hands that were tightly grasping the man fell down weakly and fell to the sides of the body. Nangong Yan knelt on the ground with a numb expression. His black robe was covered with dust. He kept repeating a few words, "Burned? How could it be burned? How could such a living person die? She is right next to me. Look, she is talking to me."

The man looked around but didn't see the person the other party was talking about. He thought he had seen a ghost and walked away cursing, "Psycho!"

Xihe let go of Xiao Mingxuan's hand, walked to the pile of ashes, and gently picked up some with both hands, as if afraid that it would break if she used a little more force. After a moment, she burst into tears, "It's Auntie, it's... her."

Everything should have settled down. The person they had been looking for for more than half a month was finally buried here, turned into ashes and could not be found anywhere.

Everyone looked at the ashes on the ground in silence.

I don't know when the wind started to blow, and the breeze blew away the dust on the ground.

"Ah Wan, Ah Wan..." Nangong Yan seemed to be really crazy. He called Zhao Wanyu's name over and over again, "Ah Wan, are you angry? Then... I will atone for your sins, okay?"

Nangong Yan took out a dagger from his waist at some point and cut his wrist again and again without caring about his life or death. Blood gushed out, but he seemed to feel no pain.

"Nangong Yan, you can't die." Xihe suddenly said calmly: "If you die, there will be no more flesh and blood of aunt in this world."

Nangong Yan suddenly stopped moving. He stared at Xihe blankly and asked, "What?" Xihe showed a gentle smile, but the words he said were cruel, like the whisper of a devil, "I forgot to say that Qianji Powder has been integrated into the blood since the moment it was contaminated. If you want to completely eradicate it, the only way is to exchange blood."

Nangong Yan looked at the blood gushing out from his wrist and was stunned for a moment, "What is this blood..."

"It's my aunt's." Xihe suddenly sneered. She looked up to the sky and sighed, feeling relieved. "You are my aunt's only flesh and blood in this world. With that said, do you still want to die?"

“No! No! Ah Wan’s blood!” Nangong Yan frantically covered his wrist with his sleeve, but he cut too hard and the blood seeped through his clothes and kept pouring out. “Why can’t it be stopped! Ah Wan! Why can’t it be stopped!”

Xihe started crying while laughing. She took a last look at Hui behind her, knelt down and kowtowed three times to Zhao Wanyu.

【Thank you for your love and care over the years. 】

Xihe walked out step by step without looking back, leaving Nangong Yan's crazy crying far behind.

She suddenly looked up at the sky.

Why does this happen?
Her aunt was an invincible general and the patron saint of the frontier.

The man who should have lived a glorious life became a rebel in the eyes of the public because of his lover's betrayal. He was suspected and insulted, and finally... died silently in an unknown deserted mountain.

Without a name, without memories, without past, he faced his own death in despair and emptiness.

Those who are glorious die in obscurity.

How ironic.