132: Not Who He Had Wanted To Kill

Things happened so quickly that it took a while for everyone to regain their senses and realize that a high-ranking military officer from Great Yong had just been shot.

The North Mongolian Tartars started beating their chests and cheering. Their morale surged, and they looked at their second prince with admiring gazes.

However, He Lianying's face was pale as he gripped the bow tightly, trembling in disbelief. She clearly could have dodged that arrow. With her abilities, there was no way she couldn't have avoided it.

Moreover, she wasn't the person he had intended to kill.

He Lianying raised his hand and shouted, "Sound the drums for retreat."

This…

This was the perfect opportunity to attack the city, why were they retreating?

"Third Prince, their morale has already taken a hit, which means we are halfway to success. Why do we need to retreat?" a high-ranking Tartar officer asked.

Slap!

He Lianying slapped the officer and growled, "I said retreat, so retreat!"

He Lianying turned his horse around, taking one last glance at the spot where Princess Jiahui usually stood. There was no one there, but for a brief moment, he thought he saw those cold, indifferent eyes filled with disdain and cunning.

She probably wouldn't die that easily, right?

Duan Xinghui carried Princess Jiahui and rushed her to the military doctor's tent, shouting, "Save her, please hurry and save her..."

Duan Xinghui paced anxiously outside the tent. His heart was filled with anxiety, fear, and dread... and an intense feeling of not wanting her to die. When the thought crossed his mind that the woman who had always looked down on him might die, he felt an unbearable pain, as if his heart was shattering.

When the arrowhead was pulled out, Princess Jiahui let out a muffled groan and opened her eyes slightly. She realized she was in a simple tent. How was she still alive?

She was still in a North Mongolian Tartar's tent.

A wave of pain swept over her, and she fainted again.

Princess Jiahui was fine. Everyone in the military felt a collective sense of relief, especially Shen Feng. Although swords are blind on the battlefield, if the princess of a nation dies—especially if she's the emperor's sister—the emperor would care little about how much merit the commander had accumulated.

Meanwhile, Princess Jiahui felt like she was dreaming. She couldn't tell if she had come to remember her past life after being shot or if this reality was a dream.

She looked at the women kneeling before her. Their faces were solemn, and their eyes were all red.

She touched the whip at her waist and smiled. No matter what, she was no longer in the tragic situation from her dream. She hadn't been humiliated, and she wasn't living in constant pain.

She hadn't disappointed her Imperial Older Brother and was still the most noble princess of Great Yong.

When she saw Duan Xinghui, she laughed. This man, whom she had loved so much in her dream, was now looking at her with concern.

So what if she was a woman? A woman didn't necessarily have to be worse than a man. She was willing to never marry and fight for her Imperial Older Brother for her entire life. No matter how painful, it couldn't compare to a life of being shared and used by countless men, eating pig feed. That life was no life at all—it was without dignity, without purpose. There was nothing. She didn't even know what she was living for.

Even if it seemed like a dream, it felt inexplicably real.

"Princess, are you alright?" Princess Jiahui had been looking at Duan Xinghui with an unreadable and slightly strange gaze, so he walked up to her and asked in concern.

Princess Jiahui was momentarily stunned. It felt like it had been a long time since she had heard Duan Xinghui's voice.