Li Xiangping quietly sat by the fire, the bright red glow casting a golden red hue on his cheeks. His leather clothing was tattered, his expression weary, and the sweat on his legs slightly curled from the heat, yet he stared intently at the taro in the fire pit.
These past days, fleeing east and west, he had nearly died at the hands of Qi Cultivators several times, had grown accustomed to countless farewells of life and death, had killed many Shanyue unit generals, stirring those people to assault the Great Jue Court.
Li Xiangping's countenance no longer held the leisurely air of the deep courtyard of a great house but had regained a crude earthiness. The days of blood and fire had forged him an iron-blooded presence, making him more and more like Ganixi.
"My Lord!"
Ahuelar still hadn't corrected his form of address and even led a crowd of Shanyue, including Li Qiuyang and Chen Donghe, astray, howling and calling him My Lord.
