Chapter 1670 – Conquering Nan Sheng, Killing An Huan (78)
Opportunities are fleeting, like sand slipping through fingers.
Miss it, and it won’t come again.
Hua Yuan, with his original self temporarily awakened by the death of his student, had intended to end it all—only to be thwarted by everyone around him. How could he, a lone warrior, contend against so many? After a struggle, his sword was wrenched from his hands, and even his attempts to bite his tongue were met with gags. Exhausted, he was left floundering, filled with extreme despair.
He finally understood the phrase “unable to seek life, unable to seek death.”
Hua Yuan merely wished to die! Why was everyone acting as if he were demanding their lives? Why were they fighting so fiercely?
In this standoff, Hua Yuan was worn out, both hands and feet weak and limp, leaving only his mouth to draw breath.
Seeing he no longer had the strength to bring about his own demise, the others secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Though none of them particularly liked Hua Yuan, his death would be equivalent to losing a limb for An, intertwining their interests. In short, preserving Hua Yuan was tantamount to preserving their own benefits, so they had to stop him with all their might.
“You, you are utterly unreasonable!”
Hua Yuan’s head spun dizzily, waves of nausea and oxygen deprivation crashing over him.
This sensation was all too familiar.
Before losing consciousness, he felt a pair of blood-red, murky eyes opening in the darkness, the owner of those eyes looking coldly at him. There was no sadness or joy, no surprise or anger, yet Hua Yuan felt a chilling sense of being watched by the depths of hell. No, perhaps it wasn’t just an illusion.
The owner of those eyes could indeed drag a person into hell when driven mad!
Hua Yuan trembled at the thought, every hair on his body standing on end in protest. He knew “that person” was about to awaken!
“The Military Adviser has fainted!”
Someone shouted, and everyone then noticed Hua Yuan’s pale face as he lay back with closed eyes.
The sight seemed more lifeless than the corpse on the bed.
They pressed on his pressure points, called into his ears, and sent for a physician…
After much commotion, they were all drenched in sweat, as if they’d run several kilometers while carrying heavy sacks.
Their efforts were rewarded—before the physician arrived, Hua Yuan slowly regained consciousness, opening his eyes.
One person said, “Military Adviser, the situation is critical. We still need you to strategize. How can the Military Adviser forsake the Lord for the Young Master?”
Even the former furious Old Minister, who had wanted to kill the Xichang Princess, had calmed down, speaking softly instead and refraining from any more violence.
They earnestly persuaded Hua Yuan to abandon his death wish, but the man merely looked at them as if they were all fools.
“Nothing wrong!” Hua Yuan pushed himself up with his weak legs, feeling something sticky on his neck. He raised his hand to wipe it across his eyes, discovering it was glaring red blood. He smirked mockingly, saying nonchalantly, “The Young Master has just passed away; prepare for his funeral and inform the Lord of his demise. The cause of the Young Master’s death is disgraceful—just say it was a sudden illness that struck him down…”
Seeing Hua Yuan regain his composure, everyone felt relieved.
Even though Hua Yuan looked dead on the inside, sending chills down their spines, it was better than him randomly drawing his sword to seek death.
As long as he wasn’t intent on committing suicide to accompany his master, everything could be discussed.
“Understood!”
“I will obey!”
Thus, this farce came to an end, and the hurried physician approached to tend to Hua Yuan’s neck wound.
Hua Yuan remained still, allowing the physician to fuss over him like a lifeless porcelain doll.
Noticing this, the physician assumed Hua Yuan was despondent over failing to accompany his master in death. With a heavy sigh, he said, “You must avoid all food these next few days, keep the wound clean to prevent any ill fortune from entering your body, causing it to fester. I’ve prescribed you some medicine; take it on time, and it should improve.”
Hua Yuan asked, “Is the wound deep?”
The physician replied, “Not very deep, but it is in a perilous location.”
Hua Yuan fell silent, his eyes flashing with emotions that made the physician’s heart race with fear.
“You may leave; I wish to be alone for a moment to gather my thoughts. I still need to arrange the funeral for the Young Master…”
Hua Yuan dismissed the physician, who attempted to vocalize objections but ultimately retreated quietly.
As soon as the physician stepped out, Hua Yuan swept his sleeves, knocking everything within sight to the floor. His cultured, handsome face contorted into a grimace.
“I’m not some lunatic; I am who I am!!!”
He suppressed his roar deep within, and though his voice wasn’t loud, it was powerful and infectious, sending shivers down the spines of anyone who might have overheard.
It’s a pity that, within the room, he was all alone, and no one could hear him.
The chaotic night was dispelled by the dawn, and the news of the Young Master’s sudden illness and death flew around like it had sprouted wings.
This message undoubtedly made its way to An’s side on the frontlines.
An received two letters—one was a standard report of mourning, while the other was a top-secret letter that Hua Yuan had suppressed for ages.
This secret letter detailed how the Young Master had bullied his pregnant stepmother, causing her distress and nearly leading to a miscarriage.
In addition, Hua Yuan added the truth behind the Young Master’s death—not from sudden illness, but from wrongdoing, fear, and shame, leading him to take his own life.
The two letters reached him in succession.
After reading the first letter of mourning, An felt sorrow, but also a hard-to-express sense of joy.
His adopted son was dead; the stumbling block weighing on his heart was gone, leaving no one to obstruct his biological son’s rise.
Upon reading the second letter, An’s fury reached a peak, veins bulging on his forehead like serpents coiling around his skull. His hands trembled with rage, his face turned ashen, and his chest heaved—he was livid enough to want to dig his adopted son out of the grave and whip his corpse.
He had bullied his stepmother while he was away, pushing her to the brink of miscarriage…
An didn’t realize he had raised a white-eyed wolf who, instead of being grateful, committed such shameful and rebellious acts!
“Good riddance!”
Those three words nearly squeezed out through clenched teeth.
Just thinking about his woman, the one pregnant with his child, being tarnished by his adopted son filled him with a profound sense of humiliation that sent his anger soaring to the heavens. Taking his own life out of guilt? That was too kind for this brat—at the very least, he deserved to be executed in the most torturous manner!
Despite his outrage, An knew he couldn’t let the deeds of his adopted son be aired, nor could he publicly reveal the truth behind his death.
Not only could he not, but he also had to clean up the mess left behind, ensuring his adopted son’s reputation posthumously.
Failing to do so, outsiders would invariably speculate that his adopted son’s death was orchestrated by An, that he harmed his step-son to pave the way for his biological son.
Thus, he would inevitably earn a reputation for being ruthless, willing to go to any lengths to achieve his goals.
More importantly, the world would learn that An was cuckolded by his own adopted son.
For a man, such humiliation was the most intolerable of all.
To protect his own reputation, An had to remain calm and would only secretly vent his frustrations in subtle ways.
However, after the anger subsided, An also noticed something was amiss.
