Perfect Weather for Making Dried Meat
Ning Shu let out a cold laugh, her whip slicing through the air before landing with brutal precision on a Tartar's lower body. The tightly bound man let out a piercing scream, his eyes rolling back in agony. The sound echoed across the battlefield, silencing the soldiers who, just moments earlier, had been chanting with fervor. A wave of quiet swept over the field, rippling through two hundred thousand soldiers who instinctively reached to shield their crotches.
Her voice was icy as she declared, "This is the price for insulting the women of Great Yong."
With relentless resolve, Ning Shu swung her whip again, turning the Tartar's lower body into a mangled mess of flesh and blood. Then, she turned her sharp gaze to the soldiers on the field. Her piercing look sent shivers down their spines, making their scalps tingle with dread. They stared back at her, eyes wide, as if facing a demon.
Below the stage, Cai Sang watched Ning Shu with undisguised admiration, her eyes alight with worship.
One by one, the Tartars met the same fate, their lives ending in torment at Ning Shu's hands. Even Shen Feng, a seasoned warrior who had spent half his life on the battlefield, couldn't hide his astonishment. Never before had he witnessed such a method of humiliation and retaliation.
"Princess, that's enough," Shen Feng finally said, stepping forward. "The army must uphold benevolence and righteousness. Otherwise, how are we different from the parasitic North Mongolia?"
Ning Shu fixed Shen Feng with an unwavering gaze. "Marshal, Jiahui cannot agree with you. If we act with so-called 'benevolence and righteousness,' our enemies will see it as weakness. They'll take advantage and despise us even more. Violence curbs violence. A death avenges a death. That's the only way to command respect and instill fear in the enemy."
Her eyes burned with conviction. Since I can't reform you, I'll just exterminate you.
Realizing her stance was immovable, Shen Feng sighed in resignation.
Ning Shu turned to Cai Sang and gestured for her to come closer. "Bring me a couple of pig butchers," she ordered.
Cai Sang nodded quickly and returned shortly with the butchers. But when Ning Shu gave her next command, the men paled.
"Scoop out their stomachs," she said, her tone chillingly indifferent.
The butchers froze, their knees almost giving out. Killing pigs was their trade, not cutting open humans.
The hesitation spread to the soldiers below, their unease growing with every word. Yet despite their alarm, they couldn't help but look at Ning Shu with a mixture of awe and fear.
In the end, the butchers obeyed, carving open the Tartars' corpses as ordered. Once the grisly task was complete, Ning Shu had soldiers rub salt into the bodies and hang them at the city gates.
It was the dead of winter, perfect weather for drying meat.
Her methods left the entire camp stunned. Shen Feng shook his head repeatedly, his expression heavy with disapproval, but Ning Shu paid him no mind. She stood firm, her voice loud and clear as she declared, "This is the price of encroaching on Great Yong!"
The mutilated corpses were displayed prominently at the city gates, a gruesome warning to the arrogant Tartars. For too long, they had oppressed the people of Great Yong. Now, Ning Shu wanted them to see that those they had belittled could fight back with equal cruelty.
The bodies hung there for weeks, exposed to the elements. Over time, they became stiff and weathered, a grotesque sight that sent chills down the spines of any Tartar passing by.
Rumors soon began to spread. People whispered that Princess Jiahui was no mere woman—she was a devil in human form.
If, in the past, some had dared to harbor thoughts about her, those days were long gone. Now, just the sight of her made men instinctively want to armor their crotches. A single glimpse of her sent a frigid chill through their bodies.
When Ning Shu finally returned to her tent, exhaustion swept over her, and she nearly collapsed. Her stomach churned violently, and for a moment, she thought she might vomit. Yet, beneath the nausea, she felt an inexplicable sense of lightness—an overwhelming relief.
These, she realized, were the emotions of the original host.
Princess Jiahui's hatred for the Tartars ran deep, rooted in the humiliation and abuse she had endured after her marriage. Seeing their tragic end was a source of immense satisfaction for her. It was only natural.
Ning Shu allowed herself a small smile. It felt good to help the original host, even if only a little. Sometimes, vengeance wasn't just an act of justice—it was liberation.