Butterflies and Pins
On a special day when it is said that spirits come to visit the living, eighteen year-old Kim Yoon-Yi gets sent into the past. Year 1452 is a year of turmoil. At the Joseon court the King, a Prince and Ministers battle for power. Neither wants to give in, using whatever means possible to best each other. There is nothing one wouldn't be willing to do when a single wrong step can mean either great success or swift demise. While young Yoon-Yi learns to adapt and survive in this new and dangerous environment, she finds a bond that is stronger than time itself: love. For her it was a first love born in the past, for him it is something he cherishes in the present. But what about the future? Will Yoon-Yi's presence in that age trigger unfathomable changes, or will destiny follow its course unhindered? * This is a work of fiction. Some elements are historically accurate, while others, such as certain timelines, events and characters, have been adapted in order to fit the storyline. If you wish to share your opinion on this book, don't feel shy and drop a comment or a message. My discord is Raksha1#2597 The artwork for the cover has been commissioned from artist MagBya ^.^ (Instagram: @mag_bya) Discord server: https://discord.gg/R3AybhzGxT
Chapter 162 - Final Boss in another world
The moment he looked down at himself, he froze. His insides instantly went cold, like he had swallowed a bucket of cold water. His left hand had, at some unknown time, been cuffed with an iron chain, while his right was still brandishing his sword. The weapon was currently raised high into the air, merely seconds away from falling over his left wrist.
Right before he lowered his right arm, he took another glance in front of him. The scene once again caused his blood to boil, a ravaging anger sweeping like a wave over his chest. There, right in front of his eyes, a stranger armed with a sharp dagger was holding onto his brother. The tip of that man's weapon was pressed against his brother's throat. A red trail of blood followed the line of that pale, slender neck, painting a disconcerting image.