belly, blood congesting in his throat.At the same time, Wei Wu's hand moved, her sword thrust forward, its tip colliding with the sharp protrusion of a spear that had plunged into the skull of the ram...The life of Jiang Wuqi was short.

From the winter night of the thirty-eighth year of Yuanfeng to this morning of the fifty-fifth year.

Dragging his illness, he walked for seventeen years.

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The emperor summoned the most renowned physicians from across the land, offering them generous rewards. Yet, none believed that Jiang Wuqi could live past ten years of age.

> Let me know if you have any other text you'd like me to translate!

But he is already seventeen this year.

>

The extra seven years were his solitary struggle against death, snatched back day by day.

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The cold poison entered his life from birth. The higher his cultivation, the more violent the cold poison became.

Cultivation is to go to death. Not cultivating is to wait for death.

Jiang Wuqì had known for a long time that fate hadn't given him many choices.

Both paths ahead lead to a dead end.

This is a continuation of the previous line.

Every single day of his life, he endured immense suffering. Every bowl of medicine he drank was bitter to the extreme, and every treatment he received felt like punishment.

But he stubbornly lived on.

The imperial physician said that the inner palace had reached its limit. If they took one more step forward, the cold poison would immediately attack and cause death.

He only asked, if I were to step into the divine realm, what then

The Warm Emperor Physician said that entering the outer chamber also means death, and entering the divine realm also means death. Only by truly understanding can one cut oneself into the cold poison of life. However, it is nearly impossible for anyone to truly understand.

>

He just said, and then I saw the truth.

He dragged his body riddled with the cold poison, to create infinite possibilities.

He endured every moment of pain, to carve out a legend that belonged to him, Jiang Wuqì.

It is such a simple thought, for a person to want to live.

But for Jiang Wuqi, what a difficult wish it was.

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It is a pity that his footsteps forever stopped in the autumn of the 55th year of Yuan Feng.

He solidified within this majestic and imposing Ziqi Palace, at the power center of the Daqi Empire, silently transforming into an ice sculpture.

How should one evaluate him

Just like the lonely question he had at Changsheng Palace—

"Who am I alone"

>The emperor of Great Qi was silent.

He raised his hand, as if wanting to touch Jiang Wuqidi's cheek, but it hung in mid-air, frozen there for a long time.

The resplendent imperial robe and the flawlessly sculpted white fox fur cloak lay in silent juxtaposition.

And that hand, which could change heaven and earth with a flip, finally let go in solitude.

Please note that I've removed the "" and "haracter "ming" (meaning) is composed of two parts: "kou" (mouth) and "xi" (evening). In ancient times, when people walked at night and couldn't see each other clearly, they would shout their names l...