“I wouldn’t dare!” Yu Jingfeng shook his head hastily. “In this whole world, aside from Your Highness, I guarantee no one would dare bully Her Highness the Princess Consort.”

“Good.” Di Wu Ya nodded, fairly satisfied. “If, someday, someone dares to bully this King’s Princess Consort, it will be your responsibility, Yu Jingfeng!”

“Yes.” Yu Jingfeng knew the burden placed on him was a heavy one, but he didn’t dare shake his head.

When it came down to it, this was all Old Master Wu’s fault.

If Old Master Wu hadn’t called her “Princess Consort,” he wouldn’t have had to follow suit. And now, just to earn the Prince a smile, the burden on his shoulders had become weightier than a thousand pounds.

“So what Ninth Imperial Uncle means is, that means you’re allowed to bully me, is that it?” Feng Jiu’er pouted, asking.

Di Wu Ya took Feng Jiu’er’s hand, met her gaze, and said, “How could this King ever bear to bully you?”

Feng Jiu’er looked at the most handsome man under the heavens, listening to his voice—which sounded pleasant no matter what he said—and found she couldn’t even muster the energy to argue.

What an annoying Ninth Imperial Uncle—why did he have to be so good-looking for no reason? Tempting others into wrongdoing?

Feng Jiu’er gave a light cough, looked away, and didn’t dare look any longer.

Just then, Old Master Wu, who had hurried off earlier, came hurrying back.

Old Master Wu, carrying a box in his arms, returned to the hall and bowed.

Behind him followed the same two servants, and no one else.

“Your Highness.” Old Master Wu raised his eyes for a glance at Di Wu Ya, then held the box up with both hands and bowed his head.

“This is the spice that the visitor from the Feng Clan wanted. Please take a look!”

Yu Jingfeng stepped forward and took the box.

“You said this is your family’s newly developed spice. Besides the visitor from the Feng Clan, who else have you sold it to?”

“No one else.” Old Master Wu looked up at Yu Jingfeng and shook his head. “This is a newly developed spice—there was only the one batch.”

“The quantity was quite large, but the visitor from the Feng Clan bought up the entire batch. What’s left is all here.”

Yu Jingfeng nodded, turned, and walked toward Di Wu Ya and Feng Jiu’er.

Feng Jiu’er stood up, took the box from Yu Jingfeng’s hands, and set it on the table.

She lifted the lid of the box, took a deep breath, and then opened the lid of the smaller box inside.

Feng Jiu’er held the small box containing the spice up to her nose, closed her eyes, and inhaled carefully.

Everyone present watched her, not one of them daring to disturb her in the slightest.

Finally, Feng Jiu’er set down the small box and looked at Di Wu Ya, nodding.

Yu Jingfeng didn’t need to ask further—he had already understood the situation from Feng Jiu’er’s actions.

He looked at Old Master Wu in the hall and asked in a deep voice, “You said the person who came from the Feng Clan was an official? What was his name?”

Although Old Master Wu didn’t understand the full situation, he sensed this was no simple matter.

He cupped his hands and said, “This humble one isn’t even certain whether that man was an official, let alone his name. The notion of him being an official was only a guess.”

“What did the visitor look like?” Feng Jiu’er’s voice was very low.

Old Master Wu frowned, his gaze settling on Feng Jiu’er.

“In response to Her Highness, that person… was quite delicate-featured. For a man, he wasn’t very tall, and his build wasn’t particularly sturdy either.”

“He looked to be around… somewhere in his thirties to forty.”

“What about his appearance?” Feng Jiu’er’s brow furrowed slightly.

“His appearance…” Old Master Wu knitted his brow tightly, clearly straining to remember.

He paused, then raised his eyes once more to meet Feng Jiu’er’s gaze.

“In this humble one’s view, that gentleman looked more like a woman—both his build and his features leaned feminine—but this humble one cannot be certain.”

“A woman?” Feng Jiu’er glanced at Di Wu Ya, her brow knitting as well.

“Your Highness, this is only this humble one’s guess.” Old Master Wu looked at Di Wu Ya and unconsciously knelt down.

“This humble one had no idea this matter would have any bearing on Your Highness. Had I known earlier, I never would have taken on this business.”

“This humble one truly knows nothing more. I beg Your Highness and Her Highness to spare this humble one—I truly know nothing else.”

Feng Jiu’er turned to look at the man in the hall and said in a deep voice, “I’m going to take some of your spice with me. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all.” Old Master Wu shook his head vigorously. “If Her Highness likes it, please take all of it.”

“Good.” Feng Jiu’er nodded and closed the small box.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, let’s go.”

Di Wu Ya nodded but didn’t stand up immediately.

Feng Jiu’er tucked the small box into her sleeve, turned, and took hold of Di Wu Ya’s arm.

Di Wu Ya rose to his feet and walked off together with his woman.

Yu Jingfeng followed close behind, and the captain, after giving a few instructions, left as well.

In the carriage, Feng Jiu’er found herself forced to lean against Di Wu Ya’s chest.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” Feng Jiu’er raised her eyes to look at the man beside her.

Di Wu Ya gently stroked Feng Jiu’er’s shoulder and said, “No matter who dared to lay a hand on our father, this King will not let them off!”

Feng Jiu’er shot him a glance, straightened her back, and pulled a little away from him.

“If it really is Feng Qiongcang, then on this trip to the Feng Clan, what awaits us will surely be a net cast wide and tight, with no escape. It seems my brothers are about to get busy once again.”

Di Wu Ya’s lips curved up slightly as he pulled Feng Jiu’er back into his embrace.

Feng Jiu’er didn’t resist—after all, whenever he wanted to hold her, when had she ever been able to refuse?

Nestled in the man’s embrace, the woman fell silent, her mind quietly turning over some plan of her own.

When the group returned to the manor where Feng Li resided, everyone began to busy themselves with preparations.

Soon, the rest of the Twelve Flying Dragon Riders caught up and arrived.

Apart from Di Wu Ya and Feng Jiu’er, who stayed behind at the manor, everyone else left to attend to their tasks.

Feng Jiu’er sat by the table, and once seated, she remained there for an entire afternoon.

With a handsome man by her side the whole time, she couldn’t really be called lonely.

On the table lay a map that Yu Jingfeng had brought.

The map was large, showing not only Qiangu Prefecture but also the state of Beimu, the Feng Clan’s territory, and even other nations.

Feng Jiu’er studied the map for a long while before finally setting down the brush in her hand. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, I’ve found a suitable spot.”

When she turned her head, she found the man beside her watching her.

Feng Jiu’er frowned slightly, a little puzzled—had this man actually been looking at the map with her this whole time, or had he simply been watching her instead?

Meeting Feng Jiu’er’s gaze, Di Wu Ya then let his eyes fall to the map.

Feng Jiu’er rubbed her eyes, picked the brush back up, and pointed to a spot on the map.

“Take a look—what do you think of this spot?”

“Entering the Feng Clan’s territory isn’t easy under normal circumstances, let alone this time, when it’s very likely a trap.”

“The Feng Clan’s formations are so formidable that, to reduce casualties among the brothers, I intend to have everyone wait at this location.”

“This spot is close to the Feng Clan’s territory and not too far from the state of Beimu either. Ninth Imperial Uncle, what do you think?”

“The location is a good one, though once inside the Black Pool, telling direction won’t be easy,” Di Wu Ya replied quietly.

“With Zhao Yusheng there, it won’t be a problem.” Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together. “Once Yu Jingfeng returns and we’ve confirmed my father can’t be found here, I’ll send word to Zhao Yusheng.”