The charming widow of the Marquis's mansion: The stable boy carries the flag and raises the dra

Wang Long then looked at Luo Hanyi and Murong Qing and said softly.

"You all stay in the city for now, I'll be right back."

Luo Hanyi raised her head and looked at him, her eyes filled with worry.

After all, Liu Wuhen was backed by a powerful sect she had never heard of before.

Wang Long smiled, reached out and tidied her wind-blown hair, his tone calm and resolute.

"There should be some explanation from the Zhao side."

"And that so-called Ten Thousand Swords Sect, I must also seek justice from them."

Whoever hurts you must pay the price!

Murong Qing nervously grabbed his sleeve.

"My lord, you go alone..."

"Not alone!"

Wang Long turned his head and looked at Ye Niannu not far away.

Ye Niannu was leaning against the crenellations of the city gate tower, arms crossed, smiling brightly and slyly.

"With Nu'er here with you, my lord, don't worry, Qing'er, everything will be alright."

Murong Qing finally breathed a sigh of relief, loosened her grip on Wang Long's sleeve, and nodded vigorously.

"Then you... must come back safely."

Wang Long smiled and ruffled her hair.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine."

He turned around and looked at Xu Wanyun, who had already landed on the city wall.

Xu Wanyun, dressed in a white dress, looked aloof and ethereal, and nodded slightly.

"Don't worry, Uncle Long, I'll take care of things here."

Wang Long glanced at Xiao Qiu, who was squatting on the city wall, curled up into a ball of golden fluff, and gave her instructions.

"Xiao Qiu, you stay here and listen to Wan Yun."

Little Chirp raised its head and let out a soft, sweet "Chirp," as if in agreement.

Wang Long then turned around, walked to Liu Wuhen's side, and casually tied him up.

He then casually picked him up and tossed him into his storage ring like a bag of goods.

Liu Wuhen didn't even have the strength to struggle; he could only let out a weak groan.

If he died inside the storage ring, it was simply his bad luck.

Then, with a wave of his hand, he collected the corpses of the ten grandmasters.

After doing all this, Wang Long raised his head, looked at Ye Niannu, and extended his hand.

"Niannu, let's go!"

Ye Niannu chuckled softly, stepped forward, and naturally took his hand, their figures swaying slightly.

They transformed into two streaks of light, soaring into the sky and hurtling towards the rebel army.

On the city wall, everyone looked up at the two figures that were gradually disappearing into the distance, their gazes lingering for a long time.

Luo Hanyi stood at the edge of the city wall, her hand gently resting on her lower abdomen, murmuring softly.

"You must come back safely..."

Qin Jiaojiao stood beside her, also looking up at her with her little face, and said earnestly.

"Don't worry, Mother, Father is incredibly powerful now! That so-called 'Great Zhao' is definitely no match for Father!"

Luo Hanyi looked down at her and finally revealed a genuine smile.

"Yes, Mother believes him."

In the southern border of the Great Qian Dynasty, outside the city of Qingzhou.

A row of military tents was pitched on both sides of the official road.

Banners stood in a forest, embroidered with the emblems of various princes.

The flag fluttered in the wind, its corners flapping and slapping against the wind.

Inside the central tent, the lights were on.

Several middle-aged men dressed in brocade robes sat around a long table, on which was spread a map of the Great Qian Dynasty.

The cinnabar dots and circles practically brought the entire southern region under their control.

The leader was slightly overweight with a prosperous-looking face, but he had a pair of narrow, triangular eyes.

His eyes darted around, revealing both shrewdness and greed.

He picked up the wine bowl, took a sip, put it down, wiped his mouth, and spoke with a smile.

"Gentlemen, according to reports from our scouts at the front, that old codger Murong Yuan has mobilized all his troops to defend the capital to the death. It seems he has run out of tricks."

The speaker was Prince Ping, Murong Yuan's cousin.

He had been at odds with Murong Yuan since the struggle for the throne, and after years of lying low, he finally got his chance.

Sitting opposite him was a thin, middle-aged man with a goatee, who stroked his beard and slowly replied to the conversation.

"Brother Ping is right, but in my opinion, the remnants of the defeated army in the capital are not a threat. The real key lies with us brothers. After this is accomplished, who should sit in this chair?"

These words immediately created a subtle atmosphere within the tent.

The group exchanged glances, all wearing polite smiles, but their eyes betrayed their wariness.

A burly prince with a full beard, sitting at the lower end of the table, slammed his hand on the table in a rough voice.

"What's there to argue about? In terms of seniority and merit, I'm number one!"

"You're ranked first?"

Goatbeard sneered.

"If I hadn't won over the generals of the northern border army, could you have reached Qingzhou so quickly? In terms of merit, I far surpass you!"

"You're just a smooth talker, how dare you claim credit?"

"Who are you calling a smooth talker?"

"I'm talking about you!"

"Say it again?"

Several men slammed their fists on the table and stood up, their swords drawn. The guards outside the tent heard the commotion inside.

They looked at each other, neither daring to go in and offer any advice.

King Ping quickly stood up and raised his hand to smooth things over.

"Alright, alright, we're all brothers. Our great cause isn't accomplished yet, why are we arguing? We can discuss it after we've captured the capital!"

"snort!"

"snort!"

The group then sat down again, each picked up their wine bowl, took a sip in silence, and their faces showed resentment.

The firelight outside the tent reflected on their faces, illuminating their ambitions and schemes clearly.

They fought endlessly for the throne, but none of them realized that their so-called "great cause" was destined to be a joke from the very beginning.

Just then, a gentle and calm voice came from outside the tent.

"Your Highnesses, what a pleasant experience!"

The sound wasn't loud, but it clearly penetrated the thick curtains and reached everyone's ears.

With a faint but palpable pressure, the noise inside the tent was instantly silenced.

The princes were stunned at the same time and turned to look in the direction of the tent curtain.

An invisible hand gently lifted a corner of the tent curtain, and a night breeze carrying a faint chill swept in.

The next second, two figures seemed to emerge from the void and landed above the open space in front of the tent, hovering in mid-air.

Wang Long stood with his hands behind his back, his robes fluttering in the night wind.

Beside him, Ye Niannu held his arm, her posture relaxed, her peach blossom eyes surveying the chaotic tents below with interest.

The noise outside the tent stopped abruptly at that moment.

The rebel soldiers, who were drinking, eating meat, and laughing loudly, also noticed the figure in mid-air.

One by one, they stiffly tilted their heads back, their mouths slightly open, and the color drained from their faces rapidly.

Someone's wine bowl fell to the ground with a "clatter" and shattered into pieces, but no one bent down to pick it up.

Several princes rushed out of the main tent and looked up at the two figures in mid-air.

King Ping's expression shifted between the lamplight and the moonlight, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the hilt of his sword.

His voice carried a forced calmness.

"Who...who are you? How dare you trespass into our military camp?!"

Wang Long did not answer his question, but simply glanced down at the densely packed tents and soldiers below, his expression calm.

He raised his hand and waved it gently. A golden light flashed, and ten figures appeared out of thin air on the ground at his feet.

boom! boom! boom!

A series of dull thuds rang out as ten corpses fell neatly to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The corpses still had dried bloodstains on their robes, and although their faces were somewhat distorted, their facial features were still clearly discernible.

In the firelight, those faces were clearly exposed to everyone.

King Ping's pupils suddenly contracted to their maximum size.

He recognized those faces.

Those were powerful figures sent by the Great Zhao to support them. Each of them had displayed unfathomable strength in front of him. With a casual strike, they could shatter rocks and fly through the air as if walking on flat ground.

He had personally witnessed one of them smash an entire city wall with a single palm strike without even flinching.

But now, all those people have turned into cold corpses.

"Grand...Grandmaster..."

The prince behind him had a hoarse and trembling voice, as if his bones had been removed.

His legs went weak, and he staggered back two steps, crashing into the wooden table behind him, scattering the wine bowls all over the floor.

"Those...those were the Grandmasters of Great Zhao...all...all dead?"