The atmosphere around Wei Xi was heavy with despair as he huddled beside Meng Xiao, feeling the weight of his failure pressing down on him. He couldn't bring himself to look up, his body trembling under the burden of loss and the sting of shame. The battle had left him defeated, his spirit crushed by the relentless cruelty of fate.
Then, a voice pierced through the suffocating gloom, a voice both familiar and comforting. "Don't lose faith," the figure said softly, appearing beside him like a beacon in the darkness. A warm robe was gently draped over him, covering him and Meng Xiao, shielding them from the harsh light of the world. It was a small gesture, but one that carried the warmth of a brother's love, a love that sought to shelter him in his darkest hour.
