His head throbbed as if it were about to split open.
Just a second ago, he had been reading The Heavenly Sword and the Dragon Saber by lamplight, lamenting Song Qingshu, the lovesick fool who ruined his future and met a miserable end in the original story. The next second, a violent dizziness and a jumble of emotions, panic, infatuation, and regret, surged into his mind.
"I..."
Song Qingshu's eyes flew open.
Before him stretched the vast, radiant Brightness Peak, its mountain winds howling as heroes gathered all around.
Standing before him was a figure he knew better than anyone:
Zhang Wuji, leader of the Ming Cult, blood gushing from his chest, with the gleaming Heavenly Sword buried deep in his left side.
The one who had struck was Zhou Zhiruo, a disciple of the Emei Sect.
At that moment, Zhou Zhiruo still had her fingers wrapped around the hilt. Her gaze was troubled and uncertain at first, unable to meet Zhang Wuji's eyes. But in an instant, ruthlessness overtook her hesitation. A cold glint flashed in her eyes as she tightened her grip, ready to pull the sword free and strike again, killing Zhang Wuji on the spot!
Zhang Wuji's body shuddered violently, disbelief written all over his face.
He had treated Zhou Zhiruo with complete sincerity and defended her time and again, only to be repaid with a sword through the heart.
His fervent feelings froze in an instant. His strength ebbed away like the tide, and, despairing of everything, he could not even bring himself to raise a hand in defense.
Death?
He could accept dying at an enemy's hands, but he would never willingly die by a sword wielded by the one he could not forget.
