Zhao Jundu put Heartgrave back in Qianye’s hands. Patting the latter’s shoulder, he said, “Qianye, remember to avenge me when you grow up. No one in our Zhao clan is stupid, everyone remembers their enmity. Okay, I’m tired, I need to rest for a bit.”

With that, he walked over to a broken wall and sat down with his back against it. A beam of sunlight showered down on his body like a waterfall. There was a faint smile on Zhao Jundu’s lips as he sat down with his eyes closed, almost as though he were enjoying the sunlight.

Qianye took a step forward, but he ultimately withdrew the step. Zhao Jundu’s chest was moving weakly at this moment, and Qianye was afraid that the slightest shock would disperse that last shred of vitality.

Song Zining and Bai Aotu arrived and stood quietly to the side. The latter turned her head slightly to the side, hoping to hear Zhao Jundu’s breathing and heartbeat. The mercenaries and Zhao clan soldiers came back into Whitetown in succession. There were only a couple hundred men left in the entire city—all of them were wounded, and almost half of them had to be...