165. The Dust Settles

Qing Huai lay quietly on the ground, staring up at the sky.

He covered his neck with his hand to slow the speed of his blood spraying.

It was as if by doing so, he could delay the time of his death and take his life back into his own hands.

The dark clouds had already dispersed, and the plants no longer paid attention to him.

After hours of fleeing, Qing Huai surprisingly felt a sense of ease at this moment.

He had simply been too tired before.

From a distance, the sound of footsteps approached, the soft sound of stepping on decayed leaves, sounding like a lullaby, Qing Huai felt himself growing sleepy.

Qing Huai turned his head to try to get a clear look at the young man.

But the young man did not come closer; instead, he crouched down far away, quietly waiting for him to die completely.

"Even at a time like this, he remains so cautious?" Qing Huai thought to himself.