Feng Jiu’er let go of Di Wuya and turned to look, easily spotting the fleshy shapes flying off in every direction.

She watched three figures leap over from midair, the corner of her mouth curving slightly.

It seemed Mao Zhongcai had treated Yu Jingfeng and the others well too — three fierce men, of course, weren’t going to settle for just six beauties.

But looking closely at the expressions on these three men’s faces, it seemed those beauties hadn’t served them all that well.

The moment Yu Jingfeng landed, he spat loudly.

“What is this thing?” He’d only just looked up when he spotted the five women standing not far from him.

Yu Jingfeng had no idea what grievance he’d just suffered, but the instant he laid eyes on these women, he drew his sword and leapt into the air.

A few screams rang out, and the poor women, still unable to land a single strike, met their end.

“Ptooey!” Yu Jingfeng turned and spat again.

“Yu Jingfeng, could you at least aim better when you spit?” Long Shiyi, who had nearly been hit, glared at him and quickened his pace.

“Sorry! Sorry! It was just too disgusting!” Yu Jingfeng apologized repeatedly, catching up.

Long Yi kept a stony face the whole time, saying nothing, walking straight toward Di Wuya.

Boom! Boom! The sound of explosive charges going off in several places rang out.

Screams echoed throughout the camp, and chaos broke out in an instant.

Aside from Long Yi and Long Shiyi, the Feilong Shi’er Qi included ten more riders.

The ten of them rode in from different directions.

Four mounts, each rushing toward its own master, moved with a speed no ordinary horse could match.

Feng Jiu’er, aside from turning to embrace her man on her own initiative, did nothing else at all.

Her body lifted lightly as the man holding her stood and, with a light leap, mounted a horse.

Twelve people, thirteen horses, headed for the gates of Yongshan City — and unbeknownst to anyone, another rider on another horse trailed behind them the whole while.

Feng Jiu’er nestled comfortably in the man’s arms.

However one looked at it, this hardly resembled a hasty retreat.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” After a while, she looked up at his firm jawline.

“How many people did you bring with you?”

“Yu Jingfeng and the Feilong Shi’er Qi.” Di Wuya lowered his eyes and ruffled her hair.

“Did Mao Zhongcai really think it was only the four of you?” Feng Jiu’er’s lips curved slightly as she reached out a slender, fair finger and poked his chin.

“Mm.” Di Wuya nodded, looking ahead.

“When did you arrive?”

“A long while ago — we’d already eaten,” Feng Jiu’er said, stretching lazily.

With him holding her, there was nothing she needed to do at all.

She lowered her hands, then looked up again.

“You already saw through Mao Zhongcai’s scheme, didn’t you?” Feng Jiu’er found it strange too — what was there to even negotiate about?

Mao Zhongcai and Lei Shenbao were cut from the same cloth; she’d never met the man, but she already knew he was no good.

Negotiate peace? Would he really agree to that willingly?

Di Wuya lowered his eyes, the corner of his mouth curving slightly.

Feng Jiu’er understood what he meant, but frowned anyway. “But you didn’t tell Yu Jingfeng?”

Yu Jingfeng had just cut down five women moments ago with an anger as if he were chopping wooden stakes, not people.

These women were nothing more than Mao Zhongcai’s tools, unworthy of pity — what Feng Jiu’er cared about was simply Yu Jingfeng himself.

For Big Brother Yu to be that furious, he must have “suffered” quite a bit.

Di Wuya’s arm tightened around her waist. Feng Jiu’er looked at him, blinking her round eyes.

“In my arms, and still thinking about another man?” Di Wuya’s tone deepened.

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together and let out a long sigh.

“I wasn’t! I just thought Yu Jingfeng might have gotten bullied — otherwise why would he be so angry?”

“Whose fault is it that he let his guard down like that?” Di Wuya said, frowning at Feng Jiu’er.

Feng Jiu’er blinked and said nothing more.

What Ninth Imperial Uncle meant was that this was meant to teach Yu Jingfeng and the others a lesson.

It was a good method, but Yu Jingfeng really had been wronged — she wondered whether Xuepiao would feel bad for him once she found out.

“Still thinking about it?” Di Wuya gently rubbed Feng Jiu’er’s waist.

Feng Jiu’er’s body trembled at once, and she quickly grabbed hold of his hand.

“All right, I’m not thinking about it anymore, not anymore.”

The playful teasing between them left the pursuers behind completely forgotten.

They hadn’t traveled far when a large army came into view ahead.

Seeing the signal flare launched from above the enemy forces, Feng Jiang immediately led the army he’d kept ready and charged out through the city gates.

This time, Mao Zhongcai had accomplished nothing — and had, in fact, handed Di Wuya an excellent pretext to attack.

The soldiers of Pingyuan City turned their horses around at some point and began retreating.

Unsurprisingly, by the time Yongshan City’s gates closed, not a single pursuer remained behind them.

Back at their lodgings, everyone immediately began discussing plans for the siege.

Di Wuya had never intended to let this war drag on much longer to begin with.

The meeting didn’t end until nearly dawn. Everyone ate what could loosely be called breakfast as a late-night snack, then each returned to their own rooms.

Di Wuya draped on a robe and left with Feng Jiu’er in his arms, making the already petite Feng Jiu’er nearly impossible to spot at all.

But how could Yu Jingfeng possibly not know where Feng Jiu’er was? All night, whenever he had a spare moment, he kept trying to get closer to her.

The door to the room was pushed open, and Yu Jingfeng, seeing the two about to step inside, hurried over.

“Miss Jiu’er, um…” Yu Jingfeng stopped a few steps behind them.

When Feng Jiu’er turned around, she found Big Brother Yu — who had worn a dark expression and kept glancing around all night — now standing there with his head lowered, saying nothing.

“What is it?” Feng Jiu’er raised an eyebrow and asked.

She was exhausted; now that she’d eaten, all she wanted was to rest.

Di Wuya’s quiet authority made itself felt, and Yu Jingfeng, sensing the chill, quickly looked up.

“Your Highness, I don’t mean to waste Miss Jiu’er’s time — I just wanted to ask Miss Jiu’er where Xuepiao is.”

The one on his mind, and he hadn’t seen her at all.

Leng Xuepiao couldn’t possibly have been present at a war council; yet for some reason, Yu Jingfeng felt unsettled without having seen her.

Rather than go looking for her himself, he figured he might as well just ask Miss Jiu’er directly.

“Oh, Xuepiao didn’t come — she’s over at the north gate, still on assignment,” Feng Jiu’er answered softly.

“Ah?” Yu Jingfeng looked at her, disbelieving.

Before Feng Jiu’er could say anything more, she was pulled along into the room.

“She’ll be able to come in a few days — just wait. Actually, no, go back and rest. You don’t need to stand guard here.”

Everyone needed sleep. What danger could there possibly be with her and Ninth Imperial Uncle together?

Then again — maybe not. It seemed Ninth Imperial Uncle himself was the dangerous one here.

Feng Jiu’er heard the door close behind them and looked up at the man holding her tightly.

Di Wuya pulled her into the room, closed the door, turned, pressed her against it, lowered his head, and kissed her.

Feng Jiu’er’s hands, instinctively braced against his chest, quickly went weak.

Since the decision had already been made, this moment would come sooner or later.

She met his kiss, her hands slowly sliding down, gently wrapping around his waist.

The temperature in the room climbed higher and higher, and the force with which the two of them held each other grew stronger as well.