The six women surely didn’t recognize Feng Jiu’er, but tonight’s mission allowed for nothing but success.

They weren’t merely following the city lord’s orders — with a man this handsome, did this frail-looking woman really think she could compete with them for him?

After a loud shout from their leader, the six of them leapt into the air together, swords thrusting toward Feng Jiu’er.

Feng Jiu’er didn’t hurry. Her gaze swept once more across Di Wuya’s profile.

A fierce wind rushed at her face; she looked up at the six figures closing in, her eyes turning sharp.

To play with poison right in front of her — and use it against her man, no less! Mao Zhongcai clearly had a death wish!

The six figures leapt with astonishing speed, in an instant becoming nothing more than fluttering scraps of silk, too fast to make out clearly.

Just as they closed in, Feng Jiu’er gripped a dagger that had appeared in her hand without anyone noticing, and leapt into the air.

Her speed was clearly faster than that of any of the women!

Feng Jiu’er passed above the tent, circling past the six women — the whole thing over in the blink of an eye.

Before the six women could even land a strike, a deafening boom sounded, and the entire tent exploded outward.

Several bodies were sent flying by the force of the blast.

The tent shattered into pieces, scattering along with the women — some fragments landing far away, some bodies simply crumpling where they fell.

And yet the man who had been sitting behind the desk inside remained, head still propped on his hand, utterly unmoving.

His dark hair and robes, tossed by the fierce wind, settled back down, as if the whole incident had had nothing to do with him at all.

Feng Jiu’er landed, standing steady about a zhang away from Di Wuya.

The tent was gone, the lamps were gone — only the light spilling from elsewhere and the stars scattered across the sky remained.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, do you plan on spending the night out here?” Feng Jiu’er looked at the man putting on his act, the corner of her mouth curving slightly.

Only then did Di Wuya’s slender fingers stir; he lifted his head and looked at the woman before him.

“Jiu’er, I’ve been drugged.” His deep eyes carried a rare touch of drowsiness.

Feng Jiu’er’s brow furrowed at once, and she stepped forward.

But before she could even sit down, her wrist was seized and pulled, and she found herself pulled into a firm, warm embrace.

By now, with a disturbance this large, there was no way the camp wouldn’t respond.

A contingent of soldiers was already closing in from one side.

But the two of them, sitting together, acted as though none of it concerned them at all — not the slightest trace of urgency on their faces.

Feng Jiu’er glanced at the man, lifted his hand, and set it on her own lap, her slender fingers pressing down.

She hadn’t even taken his pulse yet, and she already had a good idea of what had happened.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle wasn’t actually knocked out by the drug, was he? After all, six beauties all at once would be too much for any normal man to handle.”

“You—!” One of the women who had been blown back regained her footing and stepped closer.

The woman pointed at the two of them, seeing how intimately entwined they were, unhurried, and grew furious.

“How is there a woman here?” Di Wuya lightly tipped up the chin of the girl sitting on him. “In my eyes, you are the only one.”

Hearing this, the woman grew even angrier.

She could hardly believe it — this man hadn’t been poisoned at all, and they had all been deceived.

What made it even harder for the woman to accept was that tonight, it should have been herself sitting in the handsome man’s arms — and instead, a frail, weak-looking woman had taken her place.

But whether Feng Jiu’er was truly “frail and weak” — after what had just happened, didn’t these women already know the answer?

Facing six opponents alone and winning with a single blow, when it was they who had struck first, yet they hadn’t even managed to land a single move.

“Sister, kill them! Kill them!” another woman said, clutching at her chest, coming to stand beside the first.

A third woman, forcing back her pain, joined them as well.

“So what if the plan failed? They’re still here in our camp — the city lord will never let them go!”

Feng Jiu’er lowered the hand she’d been holding, staring at the women.

But what met her eyes? These women hadn’t been wearing much fabric to begin with — perhaps to save on cloth and make things more convenient — and after being blown apart by the blast, what little clothing remained on them was even more scant.

Feng Jiu’er didn’t say anything right away, and instead glanced sideways at her own man.

Di Wuya’s gaze landed on those bright, lively eyes.

His slender, well-defined finger tipped up her chin again, and he lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her soft, tender lips.

Feng Jiu’er curved her lips. She should trust that her man could never have his eye caught by the likes of these.

Of the six women, five now stood together, their expressions varied; one was nowhere to be seen — perhaps still unconscious!

“Shameless!” someone snorted coldly.

The handsome man was clearly theirs — how unwilling they were to accept this!

“Judging by what you’re saying, your city lord never intended to negotiate peace at all, did he?” Feng Jiu’er stared at the woman in the lead.

“So what if that’s true?” the woman retorted without restraint.

“You think just because you’re skilled in martial arts, you can escape? Tonight, there’s no way we’ll let you leave!”

“The man can stay — but the women won’t live to see tomorrow’s sun!”

Feng Jiu’er arched a crescent brow and glanced sideways at Di Wuya.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle.” Her tone toward him turned very soft — only the two of them could hear it.

Leaning against Di Wuya, Feng Jiu’er’s voice returned to normal, though it still carried a hint of coquettishness.

“They’re so fierce, I’m scared!”

Ninth Imperial Uncle surely already had a plan — otherwise he wouldn’t still be sitting here, unmoving.

This camp was no small thing; even having ridden in on horseback just now, Feng Jiu’er hadn’t been able to see where it ended.

There were at least ten thousand soldiers here.

“Don’t be afraid!” Di Wuya held her close, gently pressing her small head against his chest.

He, too, still hadn’t looked at these women.

Di Wuya had no idea of the specifics — from start to finish, he hadn’t glanced at any of them once.

Knowing his woman disliked it, he simply chose not to look at all, so as not to sully his own eyes and upset his little lady in the process.

The five women’s tall, slender figures, once cold, now took on a gentleness in place of their earlier chill, and they grew only more furious for it.

“Wretched woman! Prepare to die!” one of the women shouted.

The five women raised their long swords in unison, moving as one.

Feng Jiu’er looked up at Di Wuya, meeting his gaze, her soft lips stirring slightly.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, are we still not going to make a move?”

Di Wuya gently cupped her small face, offering silent comfort.

Feng Jiu’er stopped worrying about it too — with him here, was there really anything she needed to think about?

She withdrew her gaze, pressed her lips together, and reached her arms up to wrap around his lean waist.

Ninth Imperial Uncle’s embrace was so comfortable, so comfortable that she almost felt like falling asleep.

“If you’re tired, rest for a while,” Di Wuya said, his voice soft and gentle.

Feng Jiu’er tightened her grip around him a little more.

Feeling the man’s strong, steady heartbeat and the calm rhythm of his breathing, she completely tuned out the thousands of enemy troops closing in.

Boom! Not far away, another tent exploded.

The sound was just as loud as when this first tent had gone up — no different at all.