112 The Spear in Chest Scared Cicadas (2/2)

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The Southern City of Chang'an was a noble place, in which a really noble lakeside villa was built. People who were entitled to live there were either rich or honorable. Yan Suqing, the tea master, though he could not be compatible with the court, still enjoyed some reputation among the upper-class celebrities. The previous desperate fight in the lakeside villa had already alerted other residents by the lake. And the Chang'an Local Government, even the Yulin Royal Guards, had immediately begun the investigation and seizing after learning that Yan Suqing's head was severed.

The city gate had just been opened, so it was the best time to block the murderer in the city. The Chang'an Local government runners were making inquiries all around, while the Yulin Royal Guards were organizing their defenses in the street. And the inspection at the gate was especially strict.

However, no matter how strict the inspection was, some differences still existed after all—at least for the horse carriages with the Academy logo that were in charge of sending students to the Academy. Those serious soldiers at the gate just optionally asked a few questions, opened the carriage curtain to take a glance, and then waved to let it go.

Ning Que lifted up the curtain and looked at the city gate, thinking that he would not get through it easily today if all the blood on his body had not somehow disappeared. At the moment, he did not know that the blood on Vermilion Bird Avenue had also completely evaporated without leaving a trace. Otherwise, by following the blood, the cavalry of Yulin Royal Guards would have caught up with him, who was tired and badly hurt.

With the clip-clop of horseshoes and the rumble of wheels, the first touch of dawn's light landed on Chang'an City and on the lad's innocent cheeks, making his pale face paler. He could not help but squint his eyes, recalling the black sunshine in that world and lots of confusing things that happened to him last night. Then he subconsciously shook his head to hide the knife under the board of the carriage.

Ning Que slowly and calmly walked to the Academy after the horse carriage had arrived. The tranquil stone path that was usually bestrewn with blooming flowers and green grass seemed so long today. In order not to let others discover his injuries and abnormalities, he needed to endure the pain that was caused by taking steps. Even raising his eyebrows was not allowed, no matter how severe the pain in his chest was.

It was clear to Ning Que that he was absolutely unable to attend class at present. If he insisted, he would probably spit out one mouthful of blood and die in front of the instructor and his classmates. Thus in the morning sunshine, he directly passed through the quiet side lane of the Academy, slowly walking through the wetlands to the old library.

The old library was open to students day and night. The instructor and the four deacons were all absent now since it was still early. Ning Que pushed open the door and then limped upstairs with his right hand leaning on the wall.

After getting to the familiar second floor, Ning Que stared at the thickly dotted cultivation books on the bookshelves. After a while of silence, he gave birth to a strong impulse of reading as somewhere he had a very ominous omen—it would be the last time in his life that he could get upstairs and the last opportunity for him to read those precious books.

But in the end, he did not take a book off of the bookshelves and did not have the energy to see whether the guy named Chen Pipi had left any messages. He just wearily walked to the end of the bookshelf and sat down on the floor under the west window.

Would the female professor be here later to depict her Hairpin-style Small Regular Script? How could Ning Que explain it to her if she saw him like this? Perhaps he would close his eyes and would not wake up again, then why should he bother to give an explanation?

Due to the excessive loss of blood and also the mysterious injuries and collisions inside his body, Ning Que's mind was extremely chaotic, like floating catkins in a spring wind, wandering without any direction.

He looked down at his chest, feeling the emptiness and the unbearable tearing pain. He subconsciously raised his trembling right hand to slowly touch it.

He did not feel the spear coming from the sky, nor the blood. However, Ning Que felt his own hands full of thick blood, and he was sure that his chest actually had a big hole poked by the spear.

An invisible big hole.

”Will I inexplicably die like this?” Ning Que thought in pain. At the same time, the endless feeling of being sleepy came to his mind. He felt his eyelids had become as heavy as lead, and they kept trying to close.

He released the big black umbrella and gently put it aside, and then tiredly leaned against the wall at his back. He slowly closed his eyes, uttering a relaxed sigh, and naturally opened his legs.

Just like Zhuo Er sitting under the gray wall on that rainy day.

With gentle footsteps from the stairs, the slender female professor slowly walked over and saw Ning Que sitting under the wall. She gently knitted her eyebrows and her eyesight landed on the big black umbrella beside the lad.

The female professor stared at the big black umbrella with a slight frown. When she turned to Ning Que again, a bit of interest showed up on her peaceful face. And she asked, ”Was it you or this big black umbrella... that made the Vermilion Bird flare up?”

She calmly looked at the dying lad with no intention of helping. She just gently sighed and said with pity, ”It's really fascinating that so many secrets that I can't see through had hidden in such a poor lad who did not have any cultivating potentials.

”Constrained by my promise, I can't help you. Also, I really want to see what you will look like after recovering.” The female professor with elegant eyebrows enjoyed a sense of goodliness that was completely inconsistent with her age. She said, looking at Ning Que on the ground, ”I will ask for a leave for you, and I hope that the luck of Haotian can bless you and make you survive. If not, you shall blame yourself rather than me, as you appear in the Academy during these one or two years.”

A moment later, she brought a bowl of water and two steamed buns to his side. Then she returned to the east window and continued to depict the Hairpin-style Small Regular Script as if she had not noticed a dying lad was there behide her.

Out of the window, the dawn gradually flourished and the cicadas and the summer gradually came.