The white horse trod slowly along the night road, clad in black.
Seated sideways atop the white horse, Zhou Li tilted his head back to drink, facing the evening breeze with lips smacking contentedly, the epitome of comfort. If it weren't for the headless corpse of Zhang Suohao by his side, the scene would have been quite picturesque.
At that moment, Zhou Li's heart brimmed with an indescribable exhilaration, surpassing even the thrill of being entrusted with a critical mission and outmaneuvering rebels in the King of Han's camp. The ordinary rice wine in his flask seemed exceptionally mellow and fragrant, truly intoxicating.
