The Pixiu, under its master's deliberate control, could only take slow steps, watching warhorses beside it gallop off as the riders spurred them on.
After a short while,
seeing that the shouting and killing ahead was still raging, Lord Zheng simply pulled on the reins, signaling the Pixiu beneath him to turn around.
Can't go any farther. Too dangerous.
The Sword Saint had already gone back to his wife, kids, and warm kang bed—without him nearby, Lord Zheng really didn't feel safe on the battlefield.
Especially since the slaughter at West Mountain Fortress was still ongoing, and might well last into the night, which meant it was easy to run into stray Chu troops out here.
Forget it,
a wealthy man's son doesn't sit beneath a leaning roof.
Better not take that risk.
Lord Zheng returned to the city gate. Xue Three was still clamping his legs together as he continued bandaging Fanli, fully interpreting the deep friendship between demon lords.
