The black crows on the banks of the river cried out in alarm, flapping their wings and flying away in all directions.
The wind was filled with the strong smell of blood. Bright red blood slowly spread from the Murong Lian's wound, soaking the rubble and bricks beneath him.
The assassination began in the blink of an eye, and it ended just as quickly.
This group of people moved quickly and had received the most rigorous training. Gu Mang and the Murong Lian were standing so close to each other, but the spells only attacked the Murong Lian and did not hurt Gu Mang at all.
Moreover, the arrows they used to assassinate were condensed from spiritual energy. The moment they entered the flesh, they would explode. Therefore, although the Murong Lian did not have any arrowheads on his body, there were already more than ten bloody holes in his body.
At the beginning of his injury, he did not immediately fall down. However, as more and more blood flowed out, the pain became more and more intense. Finally, he could not hold on any longer. He suddenly knelt on the ground and coughed out a mouthful of blood.
Gu Mang looked at him like this. There was a buzzing sound in his head, as if something had exploded.
"Murong, Murong Lian …"
The Murong Lian covered the deepest wound on his chest and gasped for breath. His thin lips were losing color at a speed visible to the naked eye, turning white and green.
Suddenly, one of the assassins on the treetops said in a muffled voice, "Master, someone is coming!"
"Retreat!"
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. A few black shadows flashed. Just like how they came, the assassins quickly disappeared into the depths of the forest.
The Murong Lian cursed weakly, "Damn it … bitch … don't run if you have the guts … cough, cough, cough …"
As soon as he finished speaking, he coughed out another mouthful of blood. He staggered and fell down on the sandy banks of the river.
The bright moon was in the sky, and blood was everywhere. In an instant, only Gu Mang and the severely injured Murong Lian were left on the banks of the river.
Even though there weren't many good memories left of Murong Lian in Gu Mang's memory, when he really saw Murong Lian lying in front of him covered in blood, the most secret nerve in his brain still felt a stab of pain.
His fingertips were cold, and he stood still for a while. Suddenly, he came back to his senses and hurried forward to check on the Murong Lian's injuries. With one look, it was even more shocking. Not to mention other things, his chest had already been blasted into a bloody mess by the spiritual arrow, and blood was flowing non-stop.
Gu Mang instinctively wanted to cover it with his hands, but it was of no use. His palms were soon stained with sticky blood, but it couldn't stop the Murong Lian's blood loss at all.
"Murong … Murong …"
At this time, the Murong Lian was already on the verge of collapse. His eyes were starting to lose focus, and he was lying on his back on the sandy ground. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and with every breath, more blood flowed out.
He strenuously turned his glassy eyes, looked at Gu Mang for a while, and said in a low voice, "You …"
"…"
"You … really … those … cough cough, things related to me … you … don't remember anything?"
If this scene had been asked a month earlier, before Gu Mang's memories of reunion had dissipated, then Gu Mang might have told him the truth.
Unfortunately, it was too late.
Gu Mang looked at the Murong Lian's slightly upturned peach blossom eyes. They were clearly beautiful eyes, but because of the glassy eyes, they were born with three white eyes and three white eyes.
"You should at least … at least …" The Murong Lian gasped for breath, and stretched out his trembling hand, as if he wanted to do something. But his injuries were so serious that he couldn't use any strength. He stared at Gu Mang's face, and his eyes flashed with an extremely complicated and unwilling luster. He opened his mouth and wanted to say something, but what came out of his mouth was not a sound, but a congested blood.
In the distance, there were sounds of people and lights approaching from the dense forest. The Murong Lian's pale face suddenly flashed with a trace of clarity.
He raised his bloody hand, gathered a thin layer of light, and gently touched Gu Mang's chest, and then pushed him away.
"Run."
At this time, the Murong Lian's consciousness was on the verge of extinguishing, and his eyes began to lose focus, but he still urged in a low and muddy voice.
"… Run … or …"
Another mouthful of blood surged up, and the Murong Lian's voice was almost inaudible. His beautiful peach blossom eyes were wide open, and his eyeballs moved weakly from side to side, reflecting the stars in the sky and Gu Mang's frightened face.
The last sentence fell from his blood-stained lips, "… I … can't … explain it … anymore …"
"Murong Lian!!"
"Gu Mang …" In a daze, he said in a low voice, "… Actually … I … I didn't …"
Before he finished speaking, another mouthful of blood surged up. The Murong Lian's hand moved, as if he wanted to do something, but he had no more strength, and his hand suddenly fell down.
All of this happened so suddenly that Gu Mang's head was buzzing, and he couldn't react at all.
What did the Murong Lian want to say?
Almost at this moment, the patrolling cultivators of the Northern Frontier Army who heard the sound rushed out of the dense forest with wind lanterns in their hands. The light of the lantern swayed on them, and the leader of the patrol was silent for a moment, and the lantern in his hand suddenly fell to the riverbank.
The cultivator cried out, "Lord Wangshu?!!"
The wind whistled, and the sound of the sentries pierced the sky from the riverbank, and spread throughout the night.
"Someone come quickly!! The Lord Wangshu has been assassinated!!! "
"Catch the assassin!"
"Catch him!!"
Gu Mang didn't intend to escape, but why would the cultivators care? Suddenly, an aurora of magic shot out from the side, and hit Gu Mang's back hard.
At the place where the aurora came from, someone shouted, "It hit him! He can't run away! "
"Take him back!"
Gu Mang fell down beside the Murong Lian in a daze. He just happened to be facing the Murong Lian, facing the face that no one could see through.
At this moment, the face was completely bloodless, and the pair of peach blossom eyes that were always filled with ridicule were also tightly shut.
What did the Murong Lian want to say to him before … The Murong Lian … What kind of person was he …
Gu Mang, who had lost his memory, thought in a daze, but he didn't have a clue. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was a group of people from the Red Plume Camp surrounding him.
"You … really … those … cough cough, those things related to me … you … don't remember anything?"
"You should at least … at least …"
What should he do?
What should he remember?
The Murong Lian's words before he lost consciousness were like a nightmare, echoing in the depths of his dream.
Gu Mang floated in the boundless darkness, and a ray of light suddenly penetrated his chest. He sat up in his dream and touched his chest.
The place where the light was emitted was the place where the Murong Lian's finger had last pointed.
The light became brighter and brighter, continuously flowing out from his chest, and finally turned into a white butterfly in the darkness.
Gu Mang seemed to be attracted by something. He got up from the ground and kept moving forward with the white butterfly.
The dream was getting deeper and deeper.
Following the guidance of the butterfly, he saw Madam Zhao's misty, distorted face. "You are so stubborn. How can you inherit your father's family business in the future and bring glory to the Wang Shu family?"
He saw the housekeeper of the Wang Shu family reach out to him in the thick fog. "Young master, it's getting late. You need to hurry back to the music room to practice. If you're late, you will inevitably be punished by Madam Zhao again."
He also saw that in the depths of the fog, the young man Mo Xi was standing on the shooting range with a bow and arrow in his hand. His loose robe with black and gold edges fluttered in the wind. Around him were some elders of the school whose faces were blurred out, praising and praising him.
The Murong Lian looked gloomily in the corner, holding a scroll of music cultivation books that he did not like to read.
Suddenly, there were countless sounds that sounded like tidal waves in the dreamland.
Madam Zhao said, "You will never be better than him."
Then the elders of the school said, "You will never be better than him."
Finally, those voices laughed sinisterly, twisting into the Murong Lian's own words.
"Murong Lian, you will never be better than him."
"You are a clown, a dark villain … You can't even decide what you like …"
"Are you a Murong Lian? No, you are just a copy of your father … a puppet … Hahahaha … "
He continued to walk forward.
Slowly, these voices faded away, and the white butterfly's light became more and more intense. When it flapped its wings, the fluorescent light kept fluttering, gradually dispelling the endless darkness. Gu Mang saw a crack in the sky not far in front of him. At first, there was the sound of wind coming from the light beam, then petals drifted down bit by bit, and more butterflies formed by illusions flew out.
He walked forward to the center of the pure white.
He heard the voice of a child Murong Lian, softly coming from the depths of the pure white, "Is that you …"
Before Gu Mang could answer, the butterfly in front of him suddenly turned into a blurry shadow.
The little Murong Lian stood in the white light, turned around and looked at him, "It's you …"
Almost as soon as he said this, a dazzling light suddenly flashed, and Gu Mang suddenly closed his eyes. After a while, he heard the tinkling of wind chimes hanging from the eaves.
A flattering voice was speaking:
"Young Murong, please take a closer look at the dessert box you want. If there is anything you are not satisfied with, I will immediately ask the pastry chef to take it back and remake it."
Gu Mang slowly opened his eyes.
The dream had changed.
Reflected in front of him was a building of gold and red. The whole hall was piled with bowl-sized camellias. Most of the servants were simple and fat women in their forties or fifties. They wore the same coarse floral clothes and were busy in the hall with smiles on their faces.
This was Ling Long Zhai.
Chong Hua was the most famous pastry shop in the capital city.
The young Murong Lian stood in front of the tall cedar counter, raised his head, and talked to the shopkeeper arrogantly.
At that time, he looked only four or five years old, a very young child. He was dressed from head to toe in luxurious ornaments, and even his fingernails were inlaid with gems. But he was so small. Gold, silver, jade, and pearls were all piled up together. So at first glance, what others saw was not a living person, but a moving treasure cabinet with short legs.
Businessmen naturally welcomed this kind of customer who wished to write "I am rich" on his forehead. In addition, the Murong Lian was one of the richest young masters in Chong Hua. So even if it was a young child who was still wet behind the ears, the shopkeeper, who was over fifty years old, wished that he could kneel down and call him father.
The Murong Lian stretched out his short hand and took the box of desserts. When he opened it, he saw that the yellow pastry was shiny and crisp. The light pink lotus pastry was layered clearly. There was also the unique milk jelly of Ling Long Zhai. It was crystal clear and small, with a budding spring peach on top.
The Murong Lian stared at it for a while, then reached out and took one without hesitation and stuffed it into his mouth.
He ordered vaguely, "I want this. You go and make another box. "
Although the shopkeeper felt that his serious yet greedy appearance was very funny, he didn't dare to laugh out loud. He could only nod and bow in agreement, and once again ordered the chef to steam the pastries and make the pancakes. While waiting, the Murong Lian sat in the seat of honor of Ling Long Zhai. He drank a pot of Chinese rose tea and ate all the desserts without hesitation.
Gu Mang was puzzled as to why the Murong Lian left him such an illusion. He saw the shopkeeper lift the bamboo curtain and carry a box of desserts to the Murong Lian.
"Young Master Murong, I have made another set. Would you like to take a look?"
The Murong Lian was very mischievous. He imitated his mother and waved his hand in a dignified manner, "No need, I will take it. The money can be deducted from my account every month. "
The shopkeeper, "… Young Master, you don't have an account. Only your family's Madam Zhao has a fixed account … Would you like to deduct the money from Madam Zhao's account?"
"No!" The Murong Lian stared at him and immediately refused. Then he said, "Wait, I have money."
After that, he began to take out money from his small cloth pocket.
The cloth pocket was where Madam Zhao usually stored the Murong Lian's spare money. Madam Zhao was very strict, so she did not give him much money, and most of it was loose money. Therefore, the shopkeeper watched as Young Master Murong, who was wearing gold and silver, took out a handful of extremely shabby white shell coins from his pocket. He gathered them together and counted them one by one, two by three, four by four. When he found that it was not enough, he took out more.
But how much money could a four or five-year-old child have? After digging for a long time, all he could find were bits and pieces of broken shell coins.
The Murong Lian looked up, obviously a little guilty, but he still had to put on airs, so he said, "That's all. Keep the change. "
"…"
"We'll meet again."
After saying that, they carried the box of pastries and left in a group of five and six people under the shopkeeper's stunned and tearless eyes.
After returning to Wangshu Mansion, the Murong Lian summoned his closest servant. He first pretended to take a sip of tea, then raised his eyes and asked, "Cough … That … that little slave, yesterday I pushed him and he fell and hurt his head. Is he still alive?"
Gu Mang was stunned for a moment. He more or less had some recollection, so he vaguely understood.
It turned out that this memory happened when he was pushed off the swing by the Murong Lian and hit his head. Aunt Zhou carried him to treat his injuries.
The servant could not understand the Murong Lian's thoughts, so he replied in fear and trepidation, "Young Master, he is still alive."
The Murong Lian said, "Oh," with a mysterious look in his eyes, and repeated, "Still alive."
"Yes, yes, Aunt Zhou took him to see a medicine practitioner in time. Now that kid is probably resting in Aunt Zhou's room. Young Master, do you have any orders? "
"… Nothing." The Murong Lian said, "You can leave."
After the servant left, the Murong Lian sat in front of the table and thought for a while. Finally, he took out an ancient coin from the storage box, held it in his hand, and said to himself, "If it's heads, I'll go and apologize. If it's tails, I'll eat the whole box of pastries. "
After saying that, he threw the coin, which rolled a few times on the table, and finally stopped moving face up.
"Okay." The Murong Lian said in a bad mood, "Anyway, I pushed you. If I apologize, I won't lose anything."
So he jumped off the chair, tiptoed and picked up the pastry box from the table, and walked to Aunt Zhou's room.
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