That place was right before them, but the pursuers drew nearer. Some must always stay behind... Yang Xiaohu…
That place was right before them, but the pursuers drew nearer.
Some must always stay behind...
Yang Xiaohu untied the iron gourd at her waist, only realizing at this moment of parting that
the once-clear liquor inside had somehow turned crimson as blood.
Yang Xiaohu smiled, raising the gourd.
Want a drink? Then let me stay.