This day has been rehearsed countless times in Ritsu's mind. At least Hikari's every swordplay and sword-holding habits are familiar to him by heart. The figure in red appeared in his dreams countless nights, knocking him down time and time again, until he gradually figured out the opponent's martial arts skills through countless failures, found a weak point and slashed with all his strength. His friend's body was broken in two by his blade, and before he could see the other's face clearly, he woke up from his dream, covered in cold sweat.

Thinking about it later, the dark seed in his heart probably sprouted from that day.

Another time was in the Martial Arts Field, when Hikari was not in the royal city at that time, he simulated the movement of Hikari in his mind, the phantom gradually solidified in his eyes, and the fluttering clothes fluttered in the air, dazzled his eyes faint. The feeling of slaying the enemy on the battlefield a few years ago seemed to return to him. He cut a hole in the figure's body with a blade. From the left abdomen to the right shoulder, all the organs and tissues under the skin gushed out and fell on the ground. The color was even brighter than the robe, but the face of the person who fell to the ground was pale and calm, as if he had expected this ending. Not feeling sick to his stomach on the slightest, he stared at the gorgeous object in a daze, until the subordinate's call brought him back to reality, and he realized that what was scattered on the ground was just a section of chopped wood.

Since then, some subordinate officials have spread the news that the captain of the army practiced became obsessed, and was given a heavy slap in the face. He remembered when he had murderous intent towards Hikari. Probably when he noticed that General Mugen was trying to obliterate Hikari’s existence. Since then, the long-standing jealousy, the long-standing disparity in family background, and the desire to be promoted have all become the factors that watered the seed to germinate.

But there's more than that, there must be something else. Since "killing" Hikari twice in fantasy, he was no longer frightened to wake up in similar dreams. The person in the dream gradually changed from his opponent to the object of his venting. He didn't know what he was venting, maybe he was simply obsessed with the pleasure of cutting through his friend's body with the blade. In countless repeated dreams, he stepped on Hikari under his feet, listened carefully to the hoarse wail from the injured lungs when the heel of the boot ran over the wound, felt the heart stop beating little by little under the pressure, or stepped on Hikari’s wrists, stretched scars one after another on his abdomen, watching the muscles there tremble with pain, and the rolling adam's apple showed the great strength he used. He stripped off all the luxurious cloth that wrapped Hikari’s body, exposed the snow-white ketone body that had been hidden in the deep palace for many years, and insulted him with every means he could think of. He replaced the dirty intercourse with his blade pumping in the flesh, enjoying the shrill or beautiful-sounded cry mixed with shame and anger from deep in his throat, like humiliating a humble prostitute.

And now he finally had the chance to practice. Not having seen each other for three years, his friend has grown a lot, and his swordsmanship is much more proficient than expected in his dream. But under the consumption of two soldiers, he still let him seize the flaw and knock the blade in his hand away. Ritsu's strength was so strong that every time he slashed, his palms went numb. The hilt was dropped from his hand, and with no time to react, he was directly thrown to the ground by the back of the sword.

Even though having simulated it hundreds of times in his dream, the real reaction of Hikari still makes Ritsu's heart itch. He raised his blade and approached the fallen person step by step, like a hound locking the captured prey. After the battle just now, there had been several scars on Hikari's body, and a stream of blood dripped from his forehead. The huge dizziness made his legs weak, and he could only watch the bloody blade slashing towards the top of his head, but it just barely brushed past the back of his head, and his long hair fell down with the sound of the hair rope breaking.

Before he had time to think about the meaning of this movement, there was a sharp pain from the top of his head that his hair was being grabbed. Ritsu squatted down and forced Hikari to look up at him. The fair face of the person in front of him was covered with blood and dust, and his hair was in a mess. The loose long hair softened the edges and corners of the young man's face. His beauty remains unchanged in the night. After repeating countless similar dreams, Ritsu finally had a chance to see Hikari's expression clearly. Even though he had already been caught in Ritsu’s hand, the proud prince still refused to meet his playful eyes, and tried every means to struggle to escape from his shackles. So he decided to postpone his plan for some time.

"Even villagers and servants who haven't touched weapons in half their lives could be your ‘friends’. As a lord, don’t you think your ‘fellowship’ is too inexpensive, my prince?"

He saw Hikari's eyes sharpen, "You are spying on me?" The redundant words were interrupted by his own cry of pain, Ritsu increased the strength of his fingers, and simply grabbed the hair at the back of his head to prevent Hikari from further avoiding , almost encircling him in her arms, nailing to his eyes. "Don’t you think it’s a little unfair for the ‘friend’ who had risked his life with you in the army for years? Then what am I? A dog of the loyal family?"

Hikari just stared at him coldly, his lips pressed together tightly, although the pain in the back of his head might not be that strong.

Ritsu snorted, "Just spare your effort. We’ve got lots of time." He let go of his hand, threw Hikari hard to the ground, and before Hikari could get up, he straddled him, his hands tightly strangled him by the throat.

No chances for resistance, the ability to breathe was suddenly deprived, the pupils of Hikari shrank suddenly, and subconsciously grasped Ritsu's wrist to fight for some air to sustain life, but it was futile under the absolute power difference. The panic made him lose his mind, and he forgot that it was impossible for him to fight the person in front of him with bare hands. Like a dying fish thrown onto the shore, he was struggling uselessly under Ritsu's pressure, his reddened and purple face began to distort, body fluid poured out of the corners of his mouth uncontrollably, and together with it overflowed from his lungs. The hoarse and weak voice was a sign of imminent death due to suffocation, but the sound from Hikari's mouth was somewhat pleasant, which made Ritsu satisfied.

Ritsu didn't let go of his hand until Hikari's legs were about to stiffen. Having escaped from death, Hikari panted heavily, only to feel that his vision turned black, his face was instantly congested and red, and then turned pale immediately. Before the hypoxic and drowsy brain recovered, the second round of pressure was applied to his neck. This time Ritsu's force point was more concentrated, and he pressed his thumbs together on his adam's apple, stimulating that soft and sensitive skin with all his strength. A shriek with a different tone came out of Hikari's throat, and then the channel for the sound was completely blocked, and the subconscious was dragged into chaos again in the desperate situation of waiting for death. At this moment, he had no possibility of fighting back, and even exhausted all the energy left to raise his hand, hence he could only show his terribly hated look in front of Ritsu.

He didn't know how long this humiliation lasted or how many rounds it took. After recovering a little, he felt that he was still breathing weakly, but was lying on the ground on his stomach with no effort to move a single finger. A heavy weight seemed to be pressing on his waist.

"I was about to suffocate you in the sand, but forget it, I'm afraid it will be cheap for you." Ritsu's voice came from behind, as if separated by layers of mist, "Don't worry, there is still a while before the fire is over. Be patient."

Suddenly, the alarm bells rang through Hikari's mind. I must go back as soon as possible... everyone...

However, Ritsu didn't give him a chance to escape, and his brain, which had lost most of its thinking ability, was not enough to support his escape. A rope-like cloth strangled his neck, pulling his entire upper body up from behind. With his waist pinned down and his hands weak, all the weight of his bare upper body was applied to his constricted throat. In a panic, he grabbed the rope and recognized that it was the hood that Ritsu usually wore. His back bent to the limit, his chest hanging in the air, his hair grabbed mercilessly from behind, he was forced to look forward, and the burning town suddenly illuminated his drowsy vision.

It's a pity that Ritsu couldn't enjoy his desperate expression at the moment. Ritsu crossed the foreheads in his hands to form a noose, deeply embedded in Hikari's already scarred neck. This was the final torture, and he didn't intend to drag it on any longer. He tightened the noose with a wicked smile, "There you go."

Hikari could no longer make any sound, and the spasms in the body became weaker and weaker. The flames soaring into the sky gradually distorted and blurred into chaotic color blocks in his eyes, and then fell into darkness.

Ritsu let go only when he heard the sound of Hikari’s hand slipping on the sand, and the young warrior fell forward, unable to move a bit anymore. On the sand dune where he remembered his comrade, he merged with his memory.

Ritsu turned him over, his face was actually not as peaceful as he imagined in his dream, and he didn't even close his eyes, but it didn't matter. Ritsu pulled out a short knife, and inserted it neatly into the side of Hikari’s neck covered with bruised finger marks, and the sand was immediately stained with a deep red. It was not easy to separate the bones from the flesh, and it took a long time for Ritsu to stuff that delicate head together with his long hair into the box which Mugen gave him. The wound was still bleeding, making his face as pale as snow under the moonlight. Even put in a box, it was still so beautiful that he was unable to move his eyes away. It reminded Ritsu of some kind of oriental porcelain with exquisite workmanship and of high price.

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