The sun has set, and there is not a single pedestrian on the street shrouded in the last remaining rays of the day. Probably because of the tragic battle here not long ago, ordinary people do not take the initiative to approach this place, and even the residents on both sides have drawn their curtains. Liu Dao Gui sat on the ground in despair, one leg straightened and the other bent to hold Spedo in his arms. Black thorns protruded from the ancient floor tiles and crawled onto Liu Dao Gui's body. The sharp thorns scratched his coat and wrapped around his neck. Bones were already visible on the pale collarbone, and a section of thorns was sunk into the skin at the back of his neck. The blood flowing out from the wounds on his waist and face had long turned into dry black and red...
Lots of injuries.
But he is still alive! No matter how miserable he is, he is still alive!
One person was not so lucky.
Speddo's skin is fairer. Dead men are white.
The bloodless first-generation Kirisami was pulled into the arms of the tenth-generation Kirisami. The shoulder wound left when they first met was cracked, and the corners of his mouth were still red. The three blood holes on his chest that penetrated from his back could imagine how much blood had come out before. There was so much blood that Speddo's clothes were almost dry and glowing black and red, and the old floor tiles under Liu Daogu were dyed. Everything he saw with his eyes told a fact that he didn't want people to admit, D. Speddo was dead...
Intention: