Aside from that?
Mingjian didn't know what he wanted to ask and cautiously replied, "That sickly person seems to be ill as well."
Saying this, as if realizing something, his eyes lit up and he said fiercely, "Prince, do you mean to strike while he's ill and take his life?"
Mingjian felt he had grasped his master's intention, but Lu Ziyuan remained silent for a moment, then shook his head, "Don't touch him."
He lifted the quilt and got out of bed, walking step by step out of the room.
Today was overcast, adding to the somber and solemn atmosphere in the sandstorm-ridden Northern Land.
Though only twenty years old, a youth skilled in martial arts from a young age, Lu Ziyuan now had graying temples and stubble emerging on his face, his whole demeanor appearing disheveled as if he might topple with a slight breeze, yet the murderous intent in his eyes was palpable and intimidating.
