Feeling the man’s powerful and familiar presence, Feng Jiu’er’s nose stung, and tears nearly spilled from her eyes.

She turned and looked up at him, unconsciously pressing her lips together.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, you’ve finally come.”

She watched the god-like man as he carried a woman back with him.

The sun broke free from the dark clouds, sunlight spilling down, while Zhan Qingcheng’s broad frame leapt through the air, blocking out much of the light.

Feng Jiu’er nestled in his arms, lips pressed tight, unable to speak another word.

He had finally come. The brothers were saved this time.

“My lord!” One of the brothers finally recognized Zhan Qingcheng and shouted out, “My lord! It’s the Prince!”

“The Prince is back! The Prince has rushed here!”

Soon, almost all the brothers were calling out in low voices.

“The Prince is here! The Prince has come to save us!”

Wherever Zhan Qingcheng went, an air of victory spread.

His arrival brought hope to everyone.

Zhan Qingcheng flew past, carrying Feng Jiu’er, several men of equally tall and sturdy build following behind him, all dressed in black.

A few “golden eagles” swept past, and the sky cleared, just like the mood of the brothers now.

Hearing that the War God Prince had arrived, the enemy soldiers’ morale immediately collapsed.

Watching the “eagles” pass through the sky, they stood stunned for a long while, unable to react.

At the same time, the three thousand elite soldiers Zhan Qingcheng had brought charged in from one side of the valley.

Xing Zizhou, Zhao Yusheng, Xiao Yingtao, Xue Gu, and Huo Baixue, who were leading the troops, snapped back to their senses and continued fighting alongside the brothers.

Landing steadily on the ground, Feng Jiu’er suddenly remembered the injured Tuoba Keyan.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” She tugged at Zhan Qingcheng’s sleeve. “Ninth Imperial Uncle, Keyan—he’s been hit by an arrow.”

Zhan Qingcheng lowered his eyes to look at her, his expression cold, yet hiding longing and indulgence within it.

Meeting his gaze, Feng Jiu’er blinked and let go of his sleeve.

“Keyan, he—” Just as Feng Jiu’er turned around, he saw Yu Jingfeng supporting Tuoba Keyan as he approached.

Feng Jiu’er took a deep breath and turned back to look at Zhan Qingcheng once more.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

Dropping those barely audible words, Feng Jiu’er bit her lip and turned to go to Tuoba Keyan.

Zhan Qingcheng and his men’s sudden appearance had stunned the enemy soldiers for a good while.

Feng Jiu’er’s men seized the chance to counterattack, and the situation immediately turned in their favor.

Soon, Zhan Qingcheng and Feng Jiu’er both joined the battle.

The two of them fought together seamlessly, unstoppable, undefeated.

Wherever they went, men and horses alike fell before them.

In the span of half a day, the entire situation had reversed.

Before nightfall, the enemy army began to retreat.

Zhan Qingcheng led the elite soldiers in continued pursuit, while Feng Jiu’er stayed behind to help treat the wounded brothers.

The night passed quickly, and by the time Feng Jiu’er finished checking on the last wounded brother in the final tent, the sky had already begun to lighten.

Not far away stood a tall figure, and in the bitter cold of the winter morning, he was like a warm sun.

Zhan Qingcheng’s dark battle robe, his clothes, and his hair were all somewhat disheveled.

But none of it could hide his stunning looks.

His fair skin formed a striking contrast against his dark battle robe.

Though they had been apart for some time and he had perhaps grown thinner, his eyes appeared even deeper—yet those hawk-like eyes remained as sharp and bright as ever.

His high nose bridge, his thin lips more beautiful than a woman’s, his firm jaw—there was not a single flaw on him, nothing that failed to draw the eye.

The man’s tall frame stood there like a deity.

Feng Jiu’er blinked, slightly stunned, her nose stinging again.

She had known it—once he came, everything would be all right.

Thankfully, he had truly made it in time. Otherwise, by the time the sun rose again today, not many of her brothers would have still been standing.

Xing Zizhou rode his horse back from the other side.

Still on horseback, he saw Feng Jiu’er and called out loudly without thinking, “Jiu’er! Ninth Prince has driven the Crown Prince’s troops out of the city!”

“Ninth Prince drove all of the Crown Prince’s forces out of the city—Mo City, we’ve held it!”

“Jiu’er, we did it!”

Xing Zizhou’s voice carried across the entire quiet camp.

The brothers who had woken, those who could walk and move, all stepped out of their tents.

In an instant, cheers rang out everywhere.

Xing Zizhou came to Feng Jiu’er’s side, and only then did he notice Zhan Qingcheng standing outside another tent.

The army hadn’t even returned yet, and he hadn’t expected the Ninth Prince to have already arrived.

Looking from Zhan Qingcheng to Feng Jiu’er, Xing Zizhou, who had just dismounted, climbed back onto his horse.

“I’ll go find Xiao Yingtao. Won’t get in your way.”

As he rode off, Xing Zizhou waved his hand and gestured at the brothers who were coming out of their tents.

The brothers glanced over discreetly and, understanding the hint, slipped back into their tents.

“The Crown Prince’s men have been driven out of the city. We’ve successfully held Mo City.” Xing Zizhou’s voice still echoed through the camp.

The once-cold camp slowly grew lively, but no one headed toward the rear.

Even the tents near Feng Jiu’er and Zhan Qingcheng, the brothers there also retreated, not daring to come out.

In the blink of an eye, there was no one else in sight, as though the whole world held only these two—one tall, one short.

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

She tossed aside the medicine box in her hand, and with her long legs, ran toward Zhan Qingcheng.

Zhan Qingcheng curved his beautiful thin lips slightly and opened his arms.

Feng Jiu’er ran forward without a second thought, leaping into a tight embrace around him.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, I… I missed you.” She held him tightly, her grip growing stronger and stronger.

She had missed him so much, so very much, every single moment.

Zhan Qingcheng closed his arms around her, easily lifting her small, slender frame and holding her close.

Just as Feng Jiu’er looked up, the man leaned down and captured her lips.

The moment their lips met, Feng Jiu’er lowered her head and buried her face against Zhan Qingcheng’s chest.

Zhan Qingcheng swept his robe around, shielding Feng Jiu’er within his arms.

From a distance, her figure was almost entirely hidden from view.

Zhan Qingcheng’s thick brows shifted, and he gave a light cough. From some unknown corner, Yu Jingfeng appeared.

“My lord, the resting quarters are ready. This way, please.”

With a wave of his hand, Yu Jingfeng turned and walked off to one side.

Feng Jiu’er remained nestled in Zhan Qingcheng’s arms, willing now to let him carry her wherever he wished—even to the ends of the earth, she would have been content.

They arrived at a tent, and Zhan Qingcheng carried Feng Jiu’er inside.

The surroundings shifted somewhat, and only then did Feng Jiu’er quietly peek her head out from Zhan Qingcheng’s embrace.

But before she knew it, she found herself set directly down on the bed.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” Feng Jiu’er suddenly snapped back to her senses, pushing against the powerful body looming over her.

Zhan Qingcheng glanced down at her and easily pinned her in place.

Their eyes met, and all the longing rushed forth at once. Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together and closed her eyes.

Zhan Qingcheng rubbed her small head, then lowered his own and drew closer.