"Tear off the brand of destiny and you will die."
Fang Zhijin ignored the dissuasion and still pressed the dagger half an inch into his heart, while the white deer spirit screamed behind him.
Pei Xingzhi's vomited blood splashed on the corners of her lips, and the roots of the red tree spirit began to turn to ashes from the heart, but he smiled.
The brand of destiny forces them to share everything. The more she hates it, the more painful it is for him. The more pain he felt, the more she hated him.
But the night he was dying on the front line, she woke up hundreds of miles away from her dream coughing blood, ran barefoot across the snow and rushed into the ruins of the armory.
"Ajin, don't cry."
She knelt down and held his withered spiritual tree, crying and calling him a fool.
The white deer watered the red tree with blood, and the broken spiritual roots were reborn inch by inch from her palm.
In troubled times, hatred outlasts love.
But he was willing to put his life in her hands, let her hate him, let her kill him.
Let her use a sharp knife to confirm over and over again that this man only surrenders to her from beginning to end.
Purpose: In troubled times, small people also have the ambition to serve the country