336 Untitled 4yr

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Feng Jingfan continued crawling, her actions becoming slower and slower until finally, she was no longer able to move as she hung there in the air.
She hadn't been able to die a comfortable and eternal death lying down—too many knives were stuck in her, propping her body 30 degrees in an exhausting posture.
Her hand continued to remain raised, forever reaching out.
The fake lotus saint who had spent her whole life learning to be elegant and righteous had died in the ugliest manner possible.
The entire palace floor was filled with blood, seeping from the countless knife wounds, flowing and forming an illegible drawing.
Feng Xuan lay curled up on the bed, coughing incessantly. His life had already been sapped dry from the beginning, having been with the Empress, Epsilon, and Feng Jingfan for so long in addition to taking care of court matters. It was almost time for him to draw his last breath, and he had been holding on stubbornly. Feng Jingfan's blow earlier had made him feel lik