Empress Fu Yao [Volume 3]

Chapter 127

It was Zhan Beiye's hand.

Protecting her forehead, he pulled her and Ji Yu away from the huge rock. Throughout, Zhan Beiye was calm and collected and did not spare a glance at the huge rock. He just silently embraced Meng Fuyao.

There was no other meaning to this embrace. It was, in its purest sense, a hug to console her. His embrace was broad and warm. His scent could be characterized by the smoke, bloody and metallic smell that had been accumulated throughout the journey. But more so, it was the light undertones of his musky fragrance; like the pine trees in a snowy day, giving off a comfortable and refreshing aroma that would allow one to feel the resolution and power within him.

Meng Fuyao leaned on his shoulder, allowing herself this one moment of weakness. The embrace had no regards for romantic feelings—it was an act of reminiscence for those who had sacrificed.

Ji Yu sat down quietly as he let his subordinates bandage what was left of his severed arm, staring quietly at the forever closed stone wall. Every single one here was, and still is, his closest brothers. They were brothers he swore to go through thick and thin with, through life and death with. Especially San Er. He was his fellow-townsman, his childhood friend. He had brought San Er out of their hometown to enter the Black Wind Horses that would be their glory. They had promised to make the Black Wind Horses' name resound across the continents, yet, he could not do anything but abandon them.

When San Er turned around to push Meng Fuyao away, he could have stopped him. Yet, he did not.

Between Meng Fuyao and San Er, he chose Meng Fuyao.

Because that was someone the Prince loved.

The prince had a sad life with no one by his side. For so many years, he had been praying for the prince to meet someone that could bring him warmth, and the prince finally did. It was a girl that was bright and vibrant, glistening beautifully the way pearls and jade did. She was the prince's saving grace and the one he yearned for.

'San Er... please forgive my... my choice.'

After a very long time, Zhan Beiye slowly let go of his embrace of Meng Fuyao. Ji Yu turned around, putting his troubles at the back of his mind. After all, the journey had to go on.

The group continued their journey in silence. There were no longer any traps or mechanisms in the tombs, yet the walls were filled with very eerie mural paintings. The mural paintings gradually faded away as they walked along the walls with their flame.

"They've oxidized," mumbled Meng Fuyao.

From the corner of her eyes, she glanced at one of the mural paintings, contemplating over the oddity she had just witnessed. One painting, she felt, was a completely different style from the rest of the paintings, though she failed to take a closer
The passageway was made of bricks, forming a dome-shaped ceiling. On the two sides, there were two courtyards, and each courtyard had niches that did not worship statues of God, but rather, two golden cups. Under the cups, there were words inscribed.

Zhan Beiye went forward and read the words out loud, "With my holy water, worship my soul for misfortune will plague those who do not drink."

Stunned, Meng Fuyao retorted, "Asking us to drink... that? Does he treat us like pigs? How can anything from the tomb be drunk? Even if it resembled the nectar of the Gods, once any one of us drinks it, we will definitely become ghosts."

She moved forward to take a closer look at what was in the golden cup and almost vomited. What the golden cup contained was a black gooey substance that had some sort of a resemblance to wine. It gave off a slightly fishy stench with hints of alcohol undertones. At the bottom of the cup was a small bundle of white thing that curved in, like an egg that was not yet fertilized.