CHAPTER 797: CHAPTER 234 PAST

The arrow was the last one Yin Zhili shot when Jih Heng took Jiang Li away. He had initially aimed at Jiang Li because killing her would have plunged Jih Heng into unbearable pain. But perhaps at the final moment, a trace of reluctance emerged, and he turned his bow towards Jih Heng instead.

It was a scene from twenty-three years ago at Red Mountain Temple playing out all over again—another lone foray into the heart of the enemy’s territory, another ambush from all sides. The only difference was that Yu Hongye had already died by the time Jih Minghan went there, whereas when Jih Heng went, Jiang Li was still alive. Maybe it was because his beloved was still alive that he managed to hold on for so long, driven by his heart’s desire to protect her.

Jiang Li, frantic and disregarding everything else, although slender, summoned immense strength and dragged Jih Heng into a cave. She also tied the horses to stones inside the cave, fumbling in the dark for water and firewood to start a fire and boil water to dress Jih Heng’s wounds. She wasn’t familiar with this forest, but she still had some experience from her days in the woods of Tongxiang, though finding dry branches in the snow wasn’t easy. Jiang Li walked a great distance before gathering some. She carried the firewood and a water-filled pot back, running to the cave.

Fortunately, in the saddlebag of Jih Heng’s horse was a fire striker, and from Jih Heng’s own body, she found some medicine powder, probably prepared by Situ Jiuyue before he left. Jiang Li struck up a fire with the fire striker, searched for a stone bowl to boil the water, and spread her outer robe on the ground as a makeshift bed for Jih Heng to lie on. Jih Heng’s eyes were tightly closed, unconscious. Jiang Li’s tears flowed the moment she saw him like this.

She had always thought Jih Heng was someone almost impossible to overcome because he seemed so strong, which naturally led to the illusion that he was invincible, wouldn’t get hurt, bleed, or even die. But actually, Jih Heng was just an ordinary man. He was about the same age as Yin Zhili, and when he got hurt, he was extremely vulnerable, perhaps destined to leave her forever.

Jiang Li’s hands trembled as she tried to calm herself. She could only copy what she had seen of physicians in the past, cleaned Jih Heng’s Treasured Sword, removed his armor, and used the Treasured Sword to cut away the clothes matted with blood and flesh to reveal his multiple injuries.

He had run through the storm of arrows today, using his shield to block the torrent, but some had inflicted wounds, along with cuts from swords and knives, covering his body with lacerations. His skin was actually very fair, and he had an exquisite figure, but at this moment, the wounds and blood on him were like a pure white vase covered in cracks, causing any onlooker’s heart to ache with the urge to cry.

Jiang Li had to pull out that arrow.

She grasped the arrow shaft.

In a split second, a memory surfaced in her mind, words once spoken by Wen Renyao. He had said that when Jih Heng was fourteen, he had divined his fortune, predicting that ten years hence, Jih Heng would meet his doom because of a woman, lying dead in the wilderness, his body pecked at by birds and dogs. Now, she truly felt like Jih Heng’s calamity. If it weren’t for trying to save her, Jih Heng wouldn’t have ventured into danger, wouldn’t be wounded all over, his life hanging in the balance.

She extracted the arrow.

The body beneath her hands shuddered violently; she could almost hear Jih Heng’s pained groan. Jiang Li hurriedly turned her head to check his expression. He was frowning and seemed to be in a lot of discomfort. She called to him in a low voice, but he made no movement and gave no answer.

Jiang Li held back her tears, using parts of her torn skirt dipped in hot water to clean his wounds little by little. The medicine powder came in handy at this moment, and it was only now that Jiang Li discovered that Jih Heng had many old injuries on his body that weren’t caused by the arrow. They looked to have been there for some years—the new wounds and the old, a cumulative record of suffering that was unbearable to look at.

He had walked the fine line between life and death many times. Just by observing those startling wounds, she could imagine how fraught with peril his past had been. It was indeed miraculous that he had survived to this day. Behind his evident toughness was a cost that most people couldn’t begin to fathom. He was only twenty-four now, so since when had he become accustomed to living this life on the edge of the blade? At twenty? At fourteen? Or even earlier?

Jiang Li couldn’t bear to continue the thought. Her heart felt as if it was blocked by a tangle of cotton, breathless and heavy. Tears fell to the ground bit by bit, unseen. In her mind, memories arose of the days outside the tent, amidst the wind and snow, across the plains, watching that figure in red rushing toward her. He was usually so conscious of his appearance, attending to every matter with composure and grace. Yet now, just to meet her, he had thrown caution to the winds, unable to bear a moment’s delay.