It was a battle no one could have foreseen. Years later, whenever people tried to recall it, none could quite understand how that battle had even begun.

They had gone through every possible hardship to finally persuade King Ruhe to accept peace.

They had overcome every obstacle, racing to deliver word of the peace agreement to the Ninth Prince before the army could inflict serious casualties.

They had used every last bit of effort, every last scrap of luck, to expose the eldest prince’s plot of rebellion and successfully hand the army over to the second prince.

And yet, at this very moment, they watched helplessly as the two armies clashed—caught utterly off guard.

Feng Jiu’er had barely left the Ruhe army, hadn’t gone far at all, when a sneak arrow knocked her from her horse.

The Ninth Prince, heedless of everything, charged forward with his blade raised, his army following immediately behind. The Ruhe soldiers, believing Beimu’s army had no real intention of peace, also took up arms to meet them.

Tuoba Ermeng, after all, had never truly been the commander of this army. Amid the sudden chaos, the battle flag in his hands proved utterly useless.

He wanted to find Feng Jiu’er, but after she fell, she was quickly swallowed up within the Ruhe ranks.

The front lines surged with countless heads bobbing—he couldn’t even spot Feng Yinan’s figure, let alone find the fallen, arrow-struck Feng Jiu’er.

Trampled beneath the feet of a hundred thousand soldiers, and struck by a poisoned arrow besides—the odds looked grim indeed.

“Beimu’s Ninth Prince has betrayed our trust, with no real intention of peace at all! Brothers, we cannot let them play us for fools—today, we level Fenghuang City!”

Within the ranks, a man sat tall on his horse, raising the battle flag and shouting with the force of his inner energy.

Tuoba Ermeng finally recognized that figure clearly. In the next instant, he went cold all over, even the hand holding the flag beginning to tremble.

“Second Prince, Second Prince, we can’t hold them back!” Yang Qin came to his side, guarding against the chance that the chaos might harm the second prince.

But seeing the figure on horseback ahead, even Yang Qin was so shocked he nearly slipped off his own horse.

“The eldest prince? How is that possible? Why would the eldest prince be here?” Yang Qin stared, utterly dumbfounded, unable to process what he was seeing.

Tuoba Ermeng, too, stared at the figure on horseback, his entire body turning to ice.

Why was this happening? He had no idea. Wasn’t his eldest brother imprisoned by their father? Why would he suddenly appear here?

Had he escaped from the palace himself and returned to the army with a forged flag, or was it that their father had been in on it all along, staging this whole show for him and Feng Jiu’er to see?

What the truth really was, he likely wouldn’t know until this battle’s outcome had been decided.

“Second Prince, given the situation now, we no longer have any room to choose!”

Yang Qin, finally regaining her composure, gently pulled Tuoba Ermeng’s sleeve. “Second Prince, the two sides are already locked in conflict—there’s no stopping this battle now. Second Prince, all we can do now is join forces with the eldest prince and fight to win. Otherwise, if something truly happens to Feng Jiu’er, I fear the Ninth Prince will drown your capital in blood!”

Drown the capital in blood! Those words snapped the dazed, lost Tuoba Ermeng back to his senses at once.

If peace had been possible, he would have supported it with everything he had, wanting both sides to coexist peacefully. But if it wasn’t possible, then the Ninth Prince was now their greatest enemy—and facing an enemy, one could not afford to be soft-hearted.

Tuoba Ermeng finally yanked his reins, threw the peace treaty to the ground, raised his sword and the battle flag, and roared: “Kill!”

Time was against him. This battle was not what he wanted, yet he had no choice but to face it.

Even if it meant untold suffering for the living, he could not afford to show fear before the enemy’s army.

He could only sigh that Feng Jiu’er, who had fought so desperately, had in the end been struck down by a hidden attack, perhaps even losing her life.

Feng Jiu’er, if your spirit still lingers, please do not hold this against him.

At this moment, he had no other choice!

…

Amid the chaos of battle, Feng Yinan finally reached Jiu’er’s side and helped her up from the ground. “Young Master, Young Master!”

He had thought, with the arrow lodged in her back, that all hope was lost. But to his astonishment, when he lifted her up, there was no wound on her back at all—only her clothing torn open by the arrow.

“Young Master?” Feng Yinan was baffled. He had clearly seen the icy arrow strike her back, yet somehow there was not the slightest injury.

“I’m wearing the Heavenly Silkworm Robe,” Feng Jiu’er said, breathing heavily. Though she hadn’t been wounded, the inner energy carried in the arrow had still disrupted her breath.

“Quickly, back to the army, find my Ninth Imperial Uncle… Yinan, watch out!”

With a quick motion, Feng Jiu’er drew the short blade from her boot and blocked an incoming sword strike.

They had been swept into the very heart of the Ruhe army; surrounded entirely by Ruhe soldiers, returning to Beimu’s Ninth Prince and his troops was no easy task.

Countless blades came at them at once. Feng Yinan’s skill was far inferior to Feng Jiu’er’s, and he struggled even to protect himself, let alone shield Jiu’er, whose breathing was still in disarray.

It fell to Jiu’er, blade in hand, to defend not only herself but him as well.

Suddenly, a figure burst into Feng Jiu’er’s line of sight. Her heart turned cold, and she said angrily, “He’s come back again!”

Ruhe’s eldest prince, Tuoba Keyan—she truly had underestimated this man! That sneak arrow earlier must have been his doing.

Now, with both sides locked in chaotic battle, it suited his purposes perfectly!

“Strike the leader first to capture the bandits!” Feng Jiu’er swung her blade, moving to push through with Feng Yinan toward him.

But the sheer number of soldiers was beyond anything imaginable—this was, in fact, Feng Jiu’er’s first time truly caught in the heart of a great battle. It turned out the situation was even more terrifying than she’d imagined!

Tuoba Keyan, seeing Feng Jiu’er struggling within the crowd, suddenly spurred his horse and charged straight toward them.

He admired this girl! That arrow just now—he hadn’t actually meant to kill her!

This girl was simply remarkable!

Earlier, when Zhan Qingcheng had seen Feng Jiu’er struck by the arrow and falling from her horse, he knew that any rash move on his part at a time like this could affect whether the two armies fought or made peace—yet he had charged forward without hesitation, blade raised.

To Zhan Qingcheng, Feng Jiu’er meant everything.

If he could capture Feng Jiu’er alive, he could use her against Zhan Qingcheng—surely that would yield twice the result for half the effort!

He raised his crossbow, the arrow aimed at Feng Jiu’er’s leg.

There was no need to take her life—capturing her alive was what mattered, and there was no need to worry about hurting her elsewhere. Wounding one of her legs, leaving her unable to walk, would be the perfect outcome!

The wind picked up, yellow sand filled the sky, and blood stained the earth red.

Feng Jiu’er’s eyes slowly turned crimson with the color of blood. In that moment, she saw clearly just how cruel war truly was.

So this was raw, bloody struggle! People slaughtering one another, played out in its most vivid and brutal form in that very moment.

Blood spread across the field, blurring her vision more and more. She couldn’t find her Ninth Imperial Uncle—where are you, Ninth Imperial Uncle?

The wind rose from the open plain, a cold glint suddenly flashing. Out of the corner of his eye, Feng Yinan caught sight of that icy arrow. His heart sank, and with everything he had, he threw himself toward Jiu’er…