It hurts, she's dying of pain! Everything around her slowly became blurred, and her soul seemed to have fled into the eighteenth layer of hell, enduring purgatory-like refining and torture.

She's going to die again.

This time, I can't live!

But—

No, she woke up suddenly, she can't die, she definitely can't die, there are still unfinished things in the Prime Minister's Mansion, the crown prince has not yet ascended the throne, she wants to go back, she can't die like this.

Su Yueming, what are you afraid of?

In the previous life, you disfigured yourself, disfigured your child, cut it into a stick, and gouged out your eyes.

Murong Canghai treats you like this, if he can make him feel the pleasure of revenge, let him torture him fiercely.

You can't fall, you can't!

Su Yueming gritted her teeth, she heard his laughter in the wind, the sound of the flute was evil and wild, and there was a king momentum that shocked the world!

She opened her misty eyes and looked at the horizon in the direction of Da Zhou.

The sky was gloomy, and she couldn't tell the direction anymore, only to see a lonely goose wandering, occasionally making a sad voice or two.

Murong Canghai didn't have the intention of stopping, and the horse continued to gallop forward at an incredible speed.

Looking at it from a distance, a trace of red gradually appeared in the place where Su Yueming passed by, and the blood was the blood that flowed out after her body was worn out!

This blood stains the grasslands of the earth!

"Long live the prince, long live!"

The soldiers behind him also jumped on their horses and followed.

Except for Yinglie, everyone was giving out bloodthirsty cheers, Daqin was originally a nomadic people who lived by hunting, and they had murderous blood in their bones.

The horse under his crotch was still galloping, not slowing down, and the yellow grass under her turned to yellow sand.

The pain in her body became more and more extreme, and she trembled violently and trembled.

The wind suddenly blew and the dust blinded the eyes, and the woman chained behind the horse seemed to have exhausted all her strength.

Her head was lowered, and her hands and feet were not resisting.

Su Yueming was tired, so tired, she was so tired that she didn't want to have to fight.

As long as he doesn't die, let him go.

She knew him, and he would torture her, but not let her die.

While everyone was cheering, the horse galloped up a sand dune, but at this time, Murong Canghai suddenly stopped.

The wind also stopped, and so did the cheers of the crowd, and all the people stopped to look at their king of the North Courtyard.

Su Yueming lay on the ground, curled up in pain, moaning and wailing.

Murong Canghai rode his horse to her, and looked condescendingly at the person on the ground who was hugging his body like a silkworm chrysalis.

His hand holding the reins clenched suddenly, but his tone was cold, and he asked—

"Does it hurt?"

Almost using all her strength, Su Yueming raised her head and looked at him, she was taken off all the way like this, the clothes under her body were already torn, the bleeding skin and flesh were sticking to the yellow sand under her, and the originally white and smooth face was also scarred at the moment, and there was no clean flesh.

She spat out the yellow sand that covered her mouth, but a pool of bright red blood appeared on the ground.

She said—

"It hurts, it hurts and I'm dying, but I can bear it."

A trace of unknown emotion flashed in Murong Canghai's gloomy and deep eyes, he jumped off the horse, squatted in front of her, clenched his fists tightly, and looked at her scarred-