When the wind blew past my ears, I thought I would hear some heroic words.
No.
There was only the sound of bones breaking, starting from the ankle and going up. I rolled around in the air, and the brick walls of the tower turned into blurry gray lines in my sight.
Pain.
The pain was not sharp, but dull, like someone holding a rusty knife and slowly cutting open my flesh. I subconsciously wanted to grab something, and my fingers were waving randomly in the air, and I touched a hand.
That hand was cold.
I looked up and saw Xiao Jing.
His face flickered in the firelight of the tower, his lips were pursed, and his eyes were red. He stood by the crenel, still pushing me in his hand, and his whole figure looked like a stone sculpture.
I wanted to shout, but the wind filled my throat, leaving only a whirring sound.
