When Jiang Yanyi met Feng Shuo’s puzzled gaze, she quickly let go of her skirt, smoothing it back down.

Those Mary Sue period dramas were deceiving her!

In the stories, the female lead would tear her skirt into strips with ease, but it seemed you’d have to be a muscular warrior to rip fabric like that.

Finally, Jiang Yanyi used her hair ribbon to tie a band above Feng Shuo’s wound.

Fortunately, she wasn’t wealthy, so the ribbon she bought was sturdy, made of coarse hemp that could practically restrain a pig.

Feng Shuo glanced at the unusual placement, as the ribbon wasn’t directly on the wound but above it.

With a subtle, slightly conflicted look, he commented, “It’s a bit tight.”

Jiang Yanyi responded earnestly, “It needs to be tight to stop the bleeding. Bear with it.”

Just then, the sound of intense fighting came from outside the carriage, along with the repeated impact of arrows hitting the carriage walls.

The interior of the carriage was reinforced with molten iron, making it impenetrable to arrows, but the relentless whistling of the arrows filled Jiang Yanyi with fear.

The assassins were numerous, and Feng Shuo hadn’t brought many guards to the wedding banquet.

With only Yang Xiu and Bing Shao alongside the guards surrounding the carriage, they could barely keep the assassins at bay.

Then, a man wearing a blue demon mask entered the fray, and Feng Shuo’s guards quickly lost ground.

Xing Yao, facing the masked man, narrowly escaped death several times.

The blue-masked man kicked Xing Yao squarely in the chest, sending him stumbling back and clutching his chest in shock.

This man’s strength was formidable—probably a seasoned general, like one who had been on horseback for years.

Xing Yao, who had prided himself on his skills, now realized he was outmatched.

The biting cold of winter only worsened Feng Shuo’s old injuries, causing him excruciating pain.

In such a condition, fighting this man would be dangerous…

Resolving himself, Xing Yao shouted, “Protect the lord and get him out of here!”

One of the guards rushed to the carriage, but the masked man easily knocked him down, sneering, “So they call you the Southern Conqueror, the war god of Daxuan. But to me, you’re nothing more than a cowardly turtle!”

Inside the carriage, Feng Shuo didn’t seem to pay any mind to the battle outside.

Hearing the assassin’s taunts, he even had the leisure to ask Jiang Yanyi, “You didn’t eat much at Han’s banquet earlier. What will you make when we get back?”

Is this really the time to talk about food?

Jiang Yanyi looked at his wounded arm, and for some reason, the phrase “like supports like” came to mind.

“Let’s make braised pig trotter soup,” she replied.

Since he was injured, she thought it’d be best for him to eat something lighter.

“How long will it take to cook?”

“About half an hour.”

Feng Shuo nodded, “Then in an hour, we’ll eat pig trotter soup.”

It wouldn’t take more than half an hour to return to the Duchy’s main street.

With that, he lifted the carriage curtain and stepped outside.

Jiang Yanyi called out worriedly, “You’re injured!”

A faint, humorless smile appeared on Feng Shuo’s pale lips, but his eyes were filled with a fierce, unyielding resolve. “All this barking is annoying. It’s time to silence the mutts.”

Seeing Feng Shuo leave the carriage, Xing Yao’s concern deepened. “My lord, please return to the carriage. We can handle this.”

Feng Shuo merely said, “Stand down.”

The blue-masked man saw Feng Shuo emerge, looking sickly and pale yet dignified in his noble robes.

He sneered, “You dare face me in that condition? You must have a death wish!”

Feng Shuo’s expression remained calm. “Bring my bow.”

Xing Yao quickly handed him a simple, sturdy bow.

The bow was lightweight, so Feng Shuo had to restrain his strength as he drew the string, lest it break.

With a swift movement, he released the arrow with a sharp whistle.

The blue-masked man narrowly dodged the arrow, feeling the wind as it passed by, grazing his ear and sending his hair into disarray.

Before he could steady himself, two more arrows were fired in quick succession.

He had to contort his body into awkward positions to avoid them, tearing several holes in his clothing.

His hairpiece even got shot off, leaving his hair in disarray—a humiliating sight.

It seemed as though Feng Shuo had calculated the man’s reaction times precisely, toying with him like a cat with a mouse.

This blatant humiliation was far worse than any verbal insult, and the masked man, enraged, charged at Feng Shuo with his sword, “Prepare to die!”

Feng Shuo’s final arrow left the bowstring just as the man attacked.

The masked man ducked, narrowly dodging the arrow, but it sliced through his mask, splitting it in two.

The mask fell to the ground, revealing his face.

Clearly, Feng Shuo’s arrow hadn’t been aimed to kill.

Without the mask, the fierce, defiant face belonged to none other than Fan Yaonian.

Fan Yaonian wasn’t foolish; he had quickly realized something was off.

With the way Feng Shuo shot those arrows, it was evident he was more than capable with weapons.

Fan Yaonian valued his life above all else, so he decided to retreat immediately.

However, at that moment, Feng Shuo leaned against the carriage, seemingly struggling to stay upright.

He took a step back, coughed violently, his pale face growing even more ashen.

It was evident that the arrows he had just fired were merely a desperate last effort.

He was forcing himself to hold on.

This was a rare opportunity.

If he missed this chance, there would be many more guards around Feng Shuo next time.

After weighing his options, Fan Yaonian gritted his teeth and charged at Feng Shuo again, sword in hand.

The remaining assassins followed suit, launching another attack.

Xing Yao led the guards to meet the incoming threat, while Yang Xiu and Bing Shao joined in to help.

Jiang Yanyi saw how severely Feng Shuo was coughing, the right sleeve of his robe stained with blood from drawing the bow.

Her heart raced, almost leaping into her throat.

As Fan Yaonian’s sword came dangerously close to Feng Shuo’s face, she didn’t know where she found the courage, but she grabbed a small stool from the carriage and thrust half her body out to slam it down toward Fan Yaonian.

At the same moment, Feng Shuo slightly sidestepped to avoid the sword and swiftly grasped Fan Yaonian’s wrist, twisting it forcefully.

The sickening sound of bones dislocating echoed as Fan Yaonian dropped his sword.

The stool Jiang Yanyi had thrown rolled to the ground, and Fan Yaonian staggered backward, blood gushing from his nose.

Feng Shuo glanced back at the carriage, and Jiang Yanyi quickly pulled her head back, trying to hide.

Fan Yaonian’s forehead bulged with veins from the intense pain, and he didn’t care about anything else.

Seizing the opportunity while Feng Shuo was distracted, he attempted to stab him with a hidden dagger in his other hand.

However, it seemed as if Feng Shuo had eyes in the back of his head.

He caught Fan Yaonian’s arm, twisting it backward, resulting in another crack of dislocated bones.

Fan Yaonian screamed in agony, furious as he shouted, “Your old injuries are fake!”

In the biting cold wind, Feng Shuo’s coughs grew harsher, as if he were about to cough up blood any moment.

He retorted, “My old injuries are very real; it’s just that you’re too useless.”

Fan Yaonian’s eyes turned bloodshot from anger, but he found himself powerless against Feng Shuo.

With Fan Yaonian subdued, the remaining assassins faltered and were quickly captured by the arriving armored guards from the Feng residence.

Feng Shuo disabled Fan Yaonian’s limbs and then commanded Xing Yao, “Bind him and take him back.”

Fan Yaonian, drenched in cold sweat from the pain, sneered defiantly, “You might as well kill me now!”

Feng Shuo shot him a glance, then instructed Xing Yao, “When you interrogate him, as long as he’s still breathing, don’t hold back. We must find out the whereabouts of the Turkic prince.”

After saying this, he succumbed to another fit of coughing.

Xing Yao clasped his fists in acknowledgment. “Understood, my lord. You should return to the carriage.”

Feng Shuo nodded, looking pale as he made his way back inside the carriage.

Jiang Yanyi hurriedly helped him sit down, but he took the opportunity to hold her hand firmly.

“What… what’s wrong?” Jiang Yanyi stammered, feeling inexplicably flustered under his gaze.

His hand was cold, likely due to his illness, and as he grasped her wrist, she felt a shiver run through her body.

Feng Shuo locked his eyes on her with an unprecedented seriousness. “Why did you rush out to save me just now, despite the danger?”