Li Zhuiyuan was held in Chen Xiyuan’s arms.
Things on both sides of them blurred past at speed.
Li Zhuiyuan didn’t understand why Chen Xiyuan was doing this.
Not until the youth saw her eyes.
Then he understood.
Chen Xiyuan’s gaze was at once resolute and scattered — it showed that, grievously wounded, she was now propping herself up purely by a survival instinct.
Her consciousness was already fogged; taking him away was not some schemed plot, not a calculated plan, but…
Pure kindness.
Right now, he was being swept along by that kindness.
It was hard to imagine someone like her was walking the Jiang.
And yet she had managed to walk this far, to be mixed into the same current-rank whirlpool as he.
So it was only natural that that silver-haired youth and his gang would try to make a wrong turn and use the opportunity to kill her.
At this moment she still had a massive weakness because of her temperament.
If her temperament were tempered and she transformed through hardship, how many on the Jiang could truly suppress her?
There were the old precedents of the three Dragon Kings of the Chen family — if one day a gifted heir rose smoothly from the Chen lineage, not only would everyone lose their fun, they would even lose the small sense of participation they had now.
Communicating now had no meaning.