Chapter 4: I Will Kill You

Chapter 4: I Will Kill You

"Stop."

Li Zhiming held Feng Yin back, gritting his teeth against the excruciating pain in his wrist, letting him bite, letting him vent his anger.

He had no idea what had set him off, so let him vent.

Once he'd vented, maybe he'd forgive him.

Feng Yin watched anxiously from the sidelines, unable to step in, and hastily dragged the physician over, as if poised to treat Li Zhiming's wound at any second.

Seeing Li Zhiming let him bite without a word, Sang Yu tasted the coppery blood in his mouth, a strange feeling stirring inside him, and slowly released his bite.

The wrist was bitten bloody and raw—clearly, he'd meant to bite down hard.

Damn.

It hurt so much.

Was this guy raised by dogs?

Even like this, he still had that much strength—he wasn't even human.

Li Zhiming cursed inwardly but didn't dare show it, keeping a gentle smile plastered on his face.

Feng Yin quickly waved the physician over: "Quick, treat the young master's wound."

"No need. Treat him first."

Li Zhiming pointed at Sang Yu, who was barely hanging on.

Feng Yin was annoyed by Sang Yu's recent frenzied outburst and asked in confusion: "Young master, he bit you like this, why are you suddenly... He's not nearly as important as you."

Well said. Sang Yu had been cast off by the King of Nanxun—just keeping him alive was enough. Even barely breathing counted as living.

Let alone the Prime Minister's son—even an ordinary family could stomp on him a few times without a second thought.

The lead guard, still kneeling nearby, chimed in: "Indeed, young master, this man is the bastard spawn of Nanxun, and he dared to harm your noble person—death's too good for him."

Li Zhiming shot him a glare: "Shut your dog mouth."

"Yes, yes."

Li Zhiming turned to the elderly physician, who was clutching his medical box. At the sight of the scene, his legs were still trembling, his face panicked: "This humble one... I see..."

"No need for formalities. I hear you're skilled in medicine—please treat him."

He stepped back a couple of steps.

The old man glanced over, frowning: "Sir, this young master's badly hurt. That hook in his chest needs to come out as soon as possible. It missed the vital organs, but if we leave it too long, it'll fuse with the flesh—then it'll be too late."

Li Zhiming tensed up: "That serious? Then hurry up and get that hook out of him."

"..."

The physician broke into a cold sweat, reminding him: "Sir, with injuries this bad, being tied up like this... it's dangerous. It'll make things worse. He needs to lie down."

He knew that, but if he unlocked the chains, this guy would snap his own neck.

Li Zhiming shrank back: "Special circumstances—just take the hook out like this, please. By the way, do you have anything to ease the pain?"

"No, sir, there isn't."

"Then be quick about it—don't let him suffer too much."

The physician had no choice but to obey.

As soon as he got close, Sang Yu violently rattled the chains, his bloodshot eyes scaring the physician so badly he stumbled back and fell on his ass.

"He won't hurt you. He's chained."

Li Zhiming moved closer, forcing himself to ignore the suffocating pressure, and with the poise of an actor, he flashed a gentle smile at the furious lion: "Don't be afraid—this is the doctor who's going to treat you. Don't be scared."

As he spoke, he reached out with a trembling hand, slowly setting it on his head, stroking his rough hair.

He used to have a cat.

When he first brought it home, it was feral, baring its teeth—he'd calmed it the same way.

He had no other choice; he had to try anything.

But to his surprise, Sang Yu actually calmed down.

He looked up at Li Zhiming, the crimson slowly fading from his eyes, tears welling up, his lips pouting in grievance like a kitten that had fallen into water—pitiful and heartbroken.

Li Zhiming's heart slammed hard against his ribs.

He had the urge to pull him into his arms and hold him tight.

He must've died too many times—he'd lost his mind.

Li Zhiming shook the water out of his brain and kept soothing him: "Don't be afraid. Once your wound's taken care of, I'll send you back. It'll sting a little—just bear with it."

The physician crept closer again, trembling.

This time, Sang Yu didn't fight it. He stared blankly at Li Zhiming, not even feeling the pain as the clothes stuck to his torn flesh were ripped away.

Thunk. The sound of flesh being pierced.

"Ah..."

Sang Yu let out a sudden roar, arching his slender neck in agony, mouth wide, veins bulging all over his body—like a beast on the brink of death.

A bloody hole opened in his chest, gushing wildly, instantly staining him half crimson.

Li Zhiming glanced down, felt a sharp pang in his own chest, and couldn't bear to look anymore.

Sang Yu's body twisted, and he started gasping for air, his face visibly draining of color and strength.

With every breath, more blood poured from the hole.

His eyes, once blazing with murderous intent, went utterly hollow from the agony, as if the last spark of light had gone out.

Li Zhiming shouted in a panic: "Stop the bleeding—now!!"

"Yes, yes."

The doctor hastily wiped the sweat from his forehead, his hands and feet trembling as he stopped the bleeding and bandaged Sang Yu.

The gauze was stained red the moment it touched the wound.

It took many layers before the terrifying wound was finally sealed, stopping the blood from draining from his body.

Sang Yu tilted his head blankly, without a sound, as if dead.

Li Zhiming's hands and feet began to go weak too. His breathing was ragged and fast as he shakily put his fingers under Sang Yu's nose—there was still a faint sign of breath.

Still alive.

"Doctor, please take care of his other wounds too."

"Yes."

Two hours later, the doctor stood up, sweating profusely: "Sir, all the wounds are bandaged. This young man is frail, weak on the outside and deficient on the inside. He needs to rest for a while, with daily bandage changes and nourishing meals."

"Alright."

Li Zhiming took the medicine and looked at Sang Yu, who was almost wrapped up like a mummy, feeling an inexplicable sense of guilt and shame.

Although this damn mess wasn't his doing, now that he was using someone else's identity, he had to face the fallout from those damn deeds.

"You hear that? You need to rest up. I'm taking you back now. Don't kill me, okay?"

Sang Yu gave no response.

Did he pass out from the pain?

If he was out cold, that was perfect—he wouldn't be able to make a move.

After mulling it over for a bit, Li Zhiming decided to haul him out while he was still out cold.

The moment his hand touched the iron chains, a hoarse, eerie voice reached his ears: "I will kill you."

Li Zhiming's neck went cold.

No way, man. He was just as good as dead a second ago, and now he's turned into a vengeful ghost in the blink of an eye. This is really messing with my head.

He withdrew his outstretched hand: "If you say that, it's hard for me to unlock these for you. How am I supposed to let you go then? Don't you want to leave?"

Sang Yu's cracked lips trembled: "Kill me."

"What?" Li Zhiming was baffled. "I, I was just dazzled by your looks earlier and lost my head. Now I know I was wrong. I'm letting you go. Why would I kill you?"

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