Han Yi no longer knew how many days he had been trapped in the dungeon. The naked upper body was covered with mottled scars, the old ones were hideous, and the new ones were bleeding.
His head hung down, and his long hair, messy and full of mud, obscured his vision.
There was the sound of the iron door opening, and he uttered a sentence exhaustedly: "I will not tell you his whereabouts."
"Han Yi." The visitor's voice seemed to be trembling, and one name contained too much affection.
Han Yi raised his head suddenly, but his tone became stern: "Why are you here? You don't know that I am here to lure you into a trap..."
He saw that Lu Huaixun's clothes were soaked with blood, and the rest of his words were choked in his throat. The man cut off the chains on his body in an instant, staring at him without moving for a second.
Lu Huaixun hugged Han Yi tightly and whispered: "They are here to mess with me. In this case, there is no need to blame me for giving them a ride."
He would make those who had empty seats in the temple return those blood feuds one by one, for the sake of his family, his country, and more importantly, the person next to him.
Purpose: Growth, life and death together, family, country and world