On the Dragon Shadow side, there were no shortage of wounded brothers either. All day, Feng Jiu’er had been helping treat the most severely injured. Fortunately, there was Feng Jiu’er, and there was the Heavenly Mechanism Hall—injuries were unavoidable in war, and military physicians were essential. With the brothers of the Heavenly Mechanism Hall on hand, ordinary cases could be managed. For the most serious wounds, Feng Jiu’er nearly always treated them personally.

Now, Feng Jiu’er was not only Dragon Shadow’s Deputy Master, but also the city lord of Yongshan City. Duan Wucheng’s health was poor, so Feng Jiu’er hadn’t let him go into battle. After several days together, many of Yongshan City’s soldiers had come to accept Feng Jiu’er. Watching her now—neither eating nor resting, ceaselessly moving among the troops for the sake of her brothers—everyone’s respect for her only deepened. Added to that was the display, early on, of Feng Jiu’er and Di Wu Ya’s “wandering dragon, dallying phoenix” prowess—even those who hadn’t yet accepted her as city lord still held her in deep esteem.

Cai Liantang and Qin Anzhuo, every time they noticed something new about Feng Jiu’er, both marveled that they’d chosen the right boss to follow. Their boss wasn’t only beautiful as an immortal, but also possessed unrivaled martial skill—strong in combat, strong in leadership, and even highly skilled in medicine. Most important of all, and something everyone deeply felt, was that Miss Jiu’er never put on airs and treated every brother as a person. Where else would they find such a perfect leader?

Feng Jiu’er had just stepped out of one of the medical tents when Qin Anzhuo, holding a basket, came hurrying over.

“Boss Jiu’er, want to eat something to fill your stomach first?”

“You came at just the right time.” Feng Jiu’er raised her eyes—and met a pair of eyes already watching her.

“Boss Jiu’er, what’s wrong?” Qin Anzhuo immediately pulled a steamed bun from the basket.

“How are the brothers on your side doing?” Feng Jiu’er asked, taking the bun and, without a second thought, biting into it.

“Is there water?” she asked, cheeks puffed out.

Xiao Yingtao, who had followed her out, handed over a water pouch. “Drink up—Jian Yi brought it over earlier.”

Feng Jiu’er said nothing, just twisted it open and drank.

Thirsty. So thirsty.

“Boss Jiu’er, you trust me this much? Not afraid I poisoned the bun?” Qin Anzhuo looked at Feng Jiu’er, genuinely moved for a moment.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Xiao Yingtao fixed her gaze on the grinning man.

“Of course I wouldn’t dare.” Qin Anzhuo waved his hands.

“Then why would I be afraid?” The moment Feng Jiu’er finished speaking, she stuffed the rest of the bun into her mouth. She chewed a few times, then raised the water pouch again.

“Jiu’er, slow down! If you choke, Jian Yi won’t let me off, and neither will the Sect Master!” Xiao Yingtao helped hold the water pouch for her.

“Right, Boss Jiu’er, you…” Qin Anzhuo tried to show some concern, but before he could finish, he was cut off.

“How are your men?” Feng Jiu’er set down the water pouch. “You still haven’t answered.”

“Our brothers are fine!” Qin Anzhuo shook his head. “Boss Jiu’er, our five thousand-odd brothers were all in the rear guard—what could possibly happen to them?”

“Proud of being in the rear guard?” Feng Jiu’er glanced at the basket in his hands. “Any more buns? Fresh meat ones?”

Disliked by his boss, Qin Anzhuo’s face fell for a moment before he quickly recovered.

“Yes, Boss Jiu’er.” He pulled out a meat bun. “Fresh meat.”

Feng Jiu’er took the bun and, again without comment, stuffed it into her mouth. They had all been on the battlefield together; they were family now—if there were doubts to raise, this wasn’t the time.

These days, the more than five thousand men under Qin Anzhuo and Cai Liantang were originally Feng Jiang’s subordinates. Though they’d been street toughs, they had their redeeming traits—they valued loyalty among themselves. And anyone with the chance to be shaped into something better, Feng Jiu’er wasn’t willing to give up on.

“Boss Jiu’er, it’s really not that we wanted to be in the rear guard.” Qin Anzhuo watched her eating and sighed softly.

“This business of charging into battle and killing enemies—we’re just not very good at it, to be honest. We’re not much different from mountain bandits.”

“In a contest of brute strength, our men might hold their own. In a contest of strategy, we’d lose for sure.”

“Boss Jiu’er, our men have been helping out—helping manage the captured enemy soldiers, helping care for the wounded brothers.”

“I haven’t been idle either—if I hadn’t heard that Boss Jiu’er had gone without food or sleep, I wouldn’t have come over.”

Feng Jiu’er swallowed her second bun and waved a hand.

“Alright, enough talk—go help whoever needs it.”

“Your brothers aren’t just your old subordinates from before. Everyone on this battlefield is your brother now, understand?”

“Understood.” Qin Anzhuo nodded vigorously. “By the way, Boss Jiu’er, want one more?”

“No need, I’m full.” Feng Jiu’er tossed off the words and walked away, a medicine box on her back.

“Which brothers still have serious injuries?”

“The two tents up ahead—those brothers are the more serious cases,” Xiao Yingtao said, falling into step beside her.

“Besides here, there’s also Qiao Mu’s side—people there who need help too.”

With just a dozen or so steps left to go, Xiao Yingtao reached into her small cloth pouch and popped a little pastry into her mouth. Whenever fighting paused, it was always their busiest time. Whatever small snacks needed preparing, Xiao Yingtao always made sure to have ready ahead of time. Eat well, work well—that had always been Xiao Yingtao’s motto.

The treatment continued until the sky darkened again, and the busiest stretch finally passed.

Feng Jiu’er and Xiao Yingtao returned from seeing to the brothers, with Jian Yi following behind them.

“Miss Jiu’er.” Yu Jingfeng looked at the approaching group.

When the three of them entered, Xing Zichou and Feng Jiang were already there, discussing the state of the battle with Di Wu Ya.

“You’re back.” Di Wu Ya raised his eyes to look at his own woman and stood. “Come here.”

“I’ll go have something prepared to eat—we can talk while we eat.” Xing Zichou gave Xiao Yingtao a smile and stepped out.

Feng Jiu’er said nothing, walked over to the man’s side, and was nearly pulled into a seated embrace by him.

“Tired?” Di Wu Ya looked down at the woman in his arms.

“Not really.” Feng Jiu’er shook her head, raising her eyes to Feng Jiang. “Third Brother, what’s the situation now?”

Feng Jiang was simply himself now—Bao Lei no longer existed. The title “Imperial Brother” no longer suited him either; Feng Jiu’er called him “Third Brother” directly.

“There are seven thousand captured guards from Li City. The letter has already been sent in to Lei Shenbao. Whether to save them depends on his reply.”

Feng Jiang glanced at Feng Jiu’er, picked up the teapot beside Jian Yi, and poured a cup for him, then poured one for himself.

“From what I know of Lei Shenbao, he will absolutely not compromise for the sake of these prisoners.”

“I don’t think it’s possible either,” Feng Jiu’er said, composing herself as she took the cup Di Wu Ya handed her.

“A’Jiu, what do you two plan to do with these people?” She raised her eyes to Di Wu Ya and asked.

Just then, Qiao Mu lifted the tent flap and walked in.

“I’m exhausted.”

“Come here.” Feng Jiang stood, and the words had barely left his mouth before he was already beside Qiao Mu. He took her hand and led her toward his seat.

“Jiu’er.” Qiao Mu turned back to look at Feng Jiu’er. “Do you know who I just saw?”