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“Someone’s coming!” Luo Momo whispered. “It must be people from Ning Wang Manor coming to rescue us!”
Unable to resist any longer, Qingge quickly lifted the curtain to peer outside. Through the misty rain and billowing dust, she saw a dozen horses charging along the rain-soaked official road, galloping in their direction. Each rider was equipped with a quiver of long arrows and a curved bow, held at the ready as they sped forward.
Leading them was a magnificent snow-white steed, and the rider donned a brocaded silver saddle and a fluttering red robe. He was handsome and dashing, with an imposing, heroic aura that was unstoppable.
This man was none other than His Highness Ning Wang, Qingge’s lord and master.
At this moment, Qingge’s heart skipped a beat. From the moment she assumed the identity of Xiahou Jianxue, there was no turning back for her. Yet, facing the master who once wielded control over her life and death, she couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of fear and resistance—an instinct engraved deep into her marrow.
She had entered the Qianying Pavilion at the age of four, and from that moment onward, a principle had been ingrained into her very existence: loyalty, loyalty to your master.
Ning Wang—he is forever her lord and master.
Although she had made up her mind to quit the Qianying Pavilion, she knew that if a sword were thrust towards Ning Wang, she would definitely block it; if Ning Wang commanded her to kneel, she would fall on her knees in that instant.
This was almost second nature to her, carved into her very bones and blood. Now, she had to suppress her natural instincts, to deceive, to disguise, and even to become intimate with—…
At this time, Luo Momo leaned in close and whispered in a low voice, “Miss, don’t be afraid, you can’t go on like this.”
Qingge shifted her gaze and saw the momo’s eyes implying something else.
She understood that this momo was worried about her—or rather, worried that she couldn’t handle the situation and might expose them all.
To this, Qingge merely gave an indifferent glance.
Luo Momo was taken aback by the chill in her eyes.
At this moment, Ning Wang had already approached, and with his arrival, the sounds of fighting abruptly ceased.
The Wang Manor guards flanked the carriage like a pair of wings, while the three secret guards sheathed their sharpness and stood with heads bowed.
As for the Xiyuan assassins, they remained on alert, watching the newcomers with a predatory gaze. Blood trickled down from their cold blades, splashing on the wet ground. With the sudden halt of the fight, the road fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the blowing breeze and the steady patter of drizzle.
Inside the carriage, the maidservants all held their breath. Luo Momo frowned, peering at Ning Wang through the gap in the gauzy curtain. She watched as he agilely dismounted, the beautifully embroidered red robe creating a graceful arc in his movement, and the raincoat he wore, vibrant and splendid, was extremely eye-catching.
“Is that the legendary oilcloth brocade?” Luo Momo stared fixedly at Ning Wang’s raincoat and murmured.
It was rumored that the oilcloth brocade was a tribute from the mythical Kingdom of Women, considered a world-class treasure, impervious to even the heaviest rain. As Ning Wang dismounted, his magnificent raincoat fluttered open, elegant and resplendent, without a single drop of water staining it.
At the same time, a guard respectfully raised a large oil umbrella, bowing his head to shelter Ning Wang from the rain. But Ning Wang didn’t even glance as he strode into the scene. Adorned with a golden headdress and jade belt, clad in a red robe and silver coat, he moved through the drizzle with bold steps, his coat fluttering wildly in the rain, his face was as cold as it was arrogantly beautiful, like a sharp blade slicing through ice.
Even the group of tightly organized Xiyuan assassins couldn’t help but feel awe at Ning Wang’s intimidating presence. Yet, the prince did not even glance at them; his sharp gaze swept toward the carriage to the side. His look was so intense and commanding that it sent a shiver through everyone present.
Ning Wang smirked, his demeanor scornful: “Today is the day This Wang welcomes my bride. Who dares to sour my mood and challenge me?”
The Xiyuan assassins tensed up, their eyes fixated on Ning Wang, creating a deadlock in the situation for a while.
Looking at the damaged carriage, the corner of Ning Wang’s lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Have you come from afar to add color to my grand wedding? Or perhaps, you too wish to see This Wang’s new bride, huh?”
The crowd, foe and enemy alike, was taken aback, unsure of his meaning.
To everyone’s surprise, Ning Wang suddenly sprang into action, agilely leaping into the air. His red robe and silver coat billowed in tandem as he drew his long sword from his waist, slicing a swift, bright arc above the carriage.
The sword aura was fierce and powerful, cutting through the dense curtain of rain, silently sweeping over the carriage.
Then, the figure in red landed, his expensive black boots firmly hitting the wet ground, splashing water all around.
As the splashed water droplets scattered and slowly fell back to earth, the lingering trail of his movement seemed to have etched into the air, like a dragon gliding through the air.
—It all happened in the blink of an eye.
Everyone watched with bated breath as Ning Wang slowly sheathed his sword back into its scabbard; his long, slender eyelids lowered with elegance, enhancing the captivating moment.
The thin blade of the sword still trembled, emitting a resonant clanging sound. Meanwhile, the carriage, as if reacted belatedly, collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Pieces of the vividly colored carriage wall lay scattered, the precious beaded curtains broke apart, and the ornate canopy decorations crumbled into debris.
What was once a magnificent carriage was reduced to just the frame that stood starkly, revealing a seat covered in purple sable satin in the middle.
Everyone saw the elegantly dressed woman sitting silently there; the chilly spring breeze softly blew on her ink-black hair, fluttering it apart. Amidst the misty rain, she appeared ethereally beautiful, her demeanor beyond compare.
Mo Jingxi, who was in charge of the bride’s entourage, immediately frowned, his sharp gaze shot towards Ning Wang. The expressions on the faces of the rest of the Xiahou people were equally stern.
What he had done was a great insult toward the young lady of the Xiahou clan.
As the rumors suggested, His Highness Ning Wang was indeed unbridled and unscrupulous.
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