Sehir opened his mouth and shouted, then grabbed a thorny tree trunk from the side without thinking, closed his eyes and raised his hand to stab Engel in the neck.
Deep in the forest, birds took flight one after another, and even the wind stopped blowing. The person on top of him lay motionless, his chest burning hot.
Sehir was breathing heavily, his eyes still wide with shock, while the branch in his hand was plunged deep into Engel's neck, blood gushing from between his skin.
It took Cecil a full half minute to finally push the person off him. His beige shirt was stained crimson with blood, and his deep blue eyes were now dark and devoid of light.
A nauseating stench of blood clung to his nose as he limped through the forest. Where was he going? Sehir didn't know.
He killed Engel… He had to kill Engel…
Sahir was so cold that he had lost all feeling in his body. He was like a walking corpse, swaying unsteadily. After an unknown amount of time, Sahir actually walked out of the forest.
The sky overhead was about to brighten. Sesil looked up, and it started to snow lightly again. A snowflake landed on the corner of his chapped lips, and Sesil frowned slightly from the sting.
Some early risers, upon seeing the person covered in blood, acted as if they had seen a monster, keeping their distance from the poor, lonely child as if he were a plague.
The air outside was relatively fresh, and Cecil took a few breaths and finally felt a little better. However, the wound on his forehead was still bleeding, his head was buzzing, and even his vision was sometimes clear and sometimes blurry.
He's so tired, he really wants to rest...
As he walked, Sehir nearly fell to the ground several times, unable to muster any strength.
——
On the other side, Isri, who had gotten up early and set off, pulled his hat down a bit, and the snow that had settled on it lingered and refused to melt.
Isri looked at the ruby in his hand with indifference in his eyes. As he turned a corner, he casually tossed the ruby into a beggar's bowl.
The beggar stared wide-eyed in disbelief as if he had seen a god, and immediately knelt down and kowtowed to Islam.
There's no need to pamper something that's already dirty.
The East Asian continent is not very large, so news about it is almost universally known. As soon as I entered the crowd, I heard many people whispering.
"Did you see someone covered in blood just now?"
"I saw it, I saw it, it's like a monster."
"Don't you think his blond hair is quite unique and good-looking?"
"Are you crazy?..."
Before the two could finish speaking, they were interrupted by Isri, who stepped forward.
"Hello, miss, may I ask where you've seen this person before?"
Isri moved with elegance and composure, like a noble young master. The two women who were speaking were instantly captivated, lowering their heads, pointing in the distance, and opening their mouths shyly.
"It's in the coffee shop right ahead. Just walk straight and turn left."
"Thank you," Islam said with a smile.
After saying goodbye to the two girls, Isri put his hat back on, and the smile on his face suddenly vanished. He was about to find his beloved little one.
Islam quickened his pace. The street the two men were talking about was not crowded; it was sparsely populated and you could see the end of it at a glance.
Isri pushed his hat up and kept walking forward without stopping, as if he already knew where the person was.
Outside the deep alley sat a beggar, and inside the alley lay several people who were still asleep. Isri frowned slightly, but his body compelled him to walk into the alley.
He had only taken a few steps when the pungent smell of blood assaulted his nostrils. Isri frowned in displeasure, turned around, and walked toward the pile of withered grass.
Upon closer inspection, there were still a few drops of blood on it. For some reason, my heart, which should have reacted violently, was calmer than usual, without even the slightest fluctuation.
Isri crouched down, raised his hand and gently brushed aside the withered grass, revealing the unconscious face to him without any concealment.
“Young Master…” Isri’s voice was cold. Looking at Ceshir’s body covered in wounds, Isri’s eyes twitched slightly, as if he was suppressing some emotion.
Isri stood up, took off his coat, bent down and wrapped it around Ceshir. The person in his arms was barely breathing, his breath coming out intermittently.
Isri's face was expressionless, even his eyes were cold. The little bird in his arms, which was on the verge of death, was finally going back to its cage.
A pampered little bird is nothing without its owner's care.
Chapter 81
The coat was already warm, and Cecil was wrapped inside it. Within minutes, his body began to warm up, but his consciousness was still hazy. He crawled towards a warmer place.
After Sehir was carried back to the hotel, Isri turned around and went out to get medicine and gauze.
The hotel was much warmer than outside, and the soft bed allowed Cecil to sleep for quite a while.
As he turned over, the wound on his leg was aggravated, and the pain instantly woke Sesil from the bed.
Sehir raised his hand to touch his throbbing head and looked around at the scene.
Where is this? A hotel?
Who brought him back?
Sehir frowned as he looked around the room. Suddenly, his gaze fell on the box on the table, and his heart skipped a beat.
He had seen the box in Isri's hands before, but after a few minutes, Sehir gradually convinced himself.
Almost every servant has this box, so it might belong to someone else. Why would Isri possibly look for it? No way.
Sehir swallowed hard and tried to move his legs off the bed, though he kept telling himself that his heart was pounding.
The wound on his leg was covered in too much dirt, and now even the slightest movement caused him excruciating pain. Sehir was hissing as he dragged himself toward the door.
Having finally reached the door, Sehir let out a long breath, gripped the door panel, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and pulled the door open.
With no one outside, Sehir breathed a sigh of relief and turned to walk towards the stairs. But halfway up, Sehir froze again, staring wide-eyed at the people coming up the stairs.
The person who went upstairs was also staring intently at Cecil.
It's Isri! Sehir struggled to suppress the pounding in his heart that was about to burst through his skin, his eyes filled with fear. After a couple of seconds, he turned and ran in the opposite direction.
But there was only one way down from the second floor, so Sehir had no choice but to grit his teeth and rush back to the room he had just been in.
The door slammed shut with a "bang," and the locking action was completed in one smooth motion.
Sehir slid down the back of the door, panting heavily. Before he could catch his breath, there was a knock on the door behind him, and that chilling voice came through the door.
"Young Master, it's been a long time."
The person inside remained silent. Isri's lips twitched slightly as he knocked on the door again: "Young Master, your wound needs cleaning."
Only then did Cecil's gaze fall on his calves, which were filthy, with blood and mud mixed together, looking like firewood sticks by the roadside.
Sehir propped himself up and got up. He didn't dare open the door. He didn't know what Isri would do. Just as he was about to leave the doorway, the person outside spoke again.
“Young Master, I won’t do anything, but your wound must be cleaned, otherwise it will rot…” Isri paused, his smile widening: “If it’s not treated, you will die from infection.”
Sure enough, fear reappeared in Cecil's eyes. He moved closer to the door and asked, "Really?"
"Yes," the person outside the door replied.
Cecil placed his hand on the doorknob: "What you just said was true? You're not going to do anything?"
"Yes, young master."
The voice outside spoke calmly. Sehir hesitated for a few seconds, then gritted his teeth and opened the door, looking up at Isri, who had a smile on his face.
Islam picked up Sehir, carried him back to the bedside, squatted down, and rummaged through the medicines he had bought.
"Young Master seems to have grown taller."
Sehir looked down at Isri and gave a barely perceptible "hmm," he really didn't know what to say to Isri.
Isri got up and fetched a basin of warm water. He knelt down next to Ceshir again, his tone still calm: "Young Master, it will hurt a lot later. Bear with it. The soundproofing here isn't very good."
As he spoke, Isri looked up and met Ceshir's gaze. Ceshir didn't dare to look Isri in the eye, turned his head away, and still hummed in agreement.
Islam treated the wound mercilessly, pouring warm water onto the calf.
The wound opened instantly, and the newly grown tender flesh couldn't withstand such stimulation. Cecil suddenly tried to pull his leg back.
But the next second, he was grabbed tightly by Isri, and their eyes met again.
For a moment, Sehir couldn't bring himself to give the order, so he could only grit his teeth and relax his legs.
Isri continued what he was doing, while Sehir was sweating profusely, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.
“Young Master, I want to know…” Isri untied the medicine bottle and held it above the wound, looking up as he asked, “Why did you run away?”
Sehir smoothed out his furrowed brows, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Isri, his dark blue pupils still trembling with fear.
“I…” Cecil pursed his lips: “I don’t know.”
"Ugh... Ah!"
Isri poured the potion down his leg, and Cesil, who was not prepared, cried out and stared at Isri in disbelief.
But Isriel's voice remained calm and even: "Does young master think that not knowing is the answer?"
Sehir gripped the sheet, pursed his lips, and turned his head to the side, no longer looking at Isri.
Sehir stopped talking, and Isri stopped asking questions. He quickened his pace, and after treating the wound on his leg, Isri got up to treat the wound on his forehead.
Perhaps because the room was too quiet, Isri's voice sounded like a judgment, etched into Cesil's mind.
"Young master, where is the scarf I gave you?"
The surrounding air seemed to have been suddenly sucked out, leaving Sehir somewhat bewildered.
But to everyone's surprise, the next second Isri freed one hand and directly pinched Ceshir's chin, forcing him to look up at him.
"Young master, answer my question."
Isri’s voice rang out again, his cold, emotionless eyes scrutinizing him. Cecil wanted to speak up to stop him, but all the words stuck in his throat and he couldn’t say a word.
“Lost…lost,” Cesil answered Isri’s question, his mouth half-open.
Isri gently rubbed Cesil's chin with his thumb, the cool touch sending chills down Cesil's spine.
“Isri…” Sehir called out the name.
"Is there anything I can help you with, young master?"
"I...I didn't lose it on purpose."
Sehir didn't know why he was even offering an explanation, when he was clearly in a superior position...
But... it was a gift from someone else after all.