Six years later, the sky was blue with floating clouds. The green trees were lush and the grass soft and quiet, with a fragrance of flowers filling the air. On a scenic countryside road, two elegant sedan chairs moved forward and backward. As the curtain of the front chair was lifted, a fair-faced girl appeared. Though only eight or nine years old, her beauty already promised a future of extraordinary grace and charm. Her eyes, like black gems, gazed out at the landscape, her lips gently pressed together. The vibrant green of her complexion brought a sense of refreshment and delight. Indeed, late spring was the perfect time for a journey. "Yin Qin, have them stop the sedan chairs," Cold Wanyan said to her close attendant, who followed closely behind. "Yes," Yin Qin nodded, "Carpenters, stop the chairs." The sedan chairs came to a halt. Cold Wanyan lifted the curtain and stepped out. "What's the matter?" The second sedan chair also stopped, its curtain drawn aside to reveal the nannies' figure. "Nanny, I think the weather is excellent, the scenery beautiful. Let us rest here for a while." "Modern cold-bent has always lingered on the edges of bloodshed and the underworld, but never before has it enjoyed the serene beauty of the countryside with such ease." "Very well, I'll follow the lady's suggestion," said the nursemaid, glancing at the pleasant weather and the vibrant blossoms everywhere. She nodded, too—her own years had passed without such calm and leisure in a long time. "Yin Qin, find an open space, lay out the tablecloth, and arrange all the food we've prepared," Cold-bent instructed, then waved to the sedan bearers. "You too, take a rest over there." "Thank you, madam," the sedan bearers bowed and moved to the side. "The flowers of the rape blossoms are so beautiful," the nursemaid remarked, pointing to the golden fields. "They shine like gold, spreading a sea of yellow." A gentle breeze swept through, causing the entire field of rape blossoms to sway in waves, as if a tide were rolling across the land—truly magnificent. "The lady is quite unusual," the nursemaid chuckled, shaking her head. "Which young lady wouldn't love the noble peonies? Yet here the lady "Cold and slender, she gave a slight flick of her lips," "What's so special about peonies? They're all show—completely impractical." To her, oil rape flowers are just as impressive—both beautiful to behold and excellent for deep-frying—so much so that she doesn't see them as any less valuable than peonies. The young maid smiled, and Cold-Bend was indeed the head of the household. She felt much more at ease; six years had passed without leaving much of a mark on her. In contrast, Cold-Bend had grown taller and more graceful, her appearance ever more refined. Yet no one dared to challenge her—her temper was firm and unyielding. She always did what she pleased, embodying a bold, unruly freedom. Both within and outside the household, everyone respected her. All knew that the lady of the Northern Command's household was a formidable presence, acting with complete autonomy. Anyone who failed to pay attention and offended her would surely be treated harshly. Behind her back, they all called her the little demon. "Ah—!" Yin Qin suddenly cried out, her voice filled with alarm, dropping her food all over the floor. "What's wrong? What's wrong?" A man in black, his face veiled, held a sharp sword and approached, escorting the harpist. Behind him stood several other men in black robes. The porters saw this scene and grew alarmed, standing still, frozen—these were deadly assassins, after all. "Set me down," Cold Wanyuan lifted her head, her gaze steady and cool, her expression calm. The leading man raised his hand, and the harpist was struck unconscious, falling to the ground beside him. "Kill them all!" He waved his arm, and the assassins from behind surged forward. "Mother, be careful!" Cold Wanyuan pushed the nurse aside. "Miss, you must watch out!" The nurse, watching the unwelcoming black-robed figures, cried out in growing anxiety. For six years, the lady had faced countless attacks, yet remained safe. She hoped this time would also go smoothly. Her jade-blue eyes expressed concern. She remembered the lady once saying she might one day be harmed to the point of death—now it seemed true. Perhaps it was her own fault. Her compassion, her gentle nature, might have been the very thing that endangered the lady. The sedan bearers watched as the black-robed figures surged upon them, realizing that no matter what, today they would surely meet their fate. Better to fight to the end—perhaps there was still a chance. With this thought, they picked up stones and other debris scattered on the ground and hurled them at the black-robed figures, helpless to avoid them. As eight sedan bearers threw stones like a downpour, though they lacked lethal force, the constant barrage was far from comfortable. Several black-robed figures grew annoyed, their blades flashing with cold light, their sword movements flowing like a rainbow. Seeing that their resistance was futile, the sedan bearers panicked and began to flee. Yet these sturdy, strong-willed men could not match the agile, skilled assassins; they stumbled and fell, their bodies striking the ground with a crash. Blood stained their garments, their eyes wide open, their deaths grim and tragic. The nurse, witnessing the sedan bearers all perishing, grew increasingly worried about Ling Wanwan. Her hands clenched tightly, but helpless as she stood, powerless to defend herself. Ling Wanwan, small and agile, darted like a swift swallow among the black-robed figures, her silver bells at her waist ringing clearly and cris The black-robed companions had originally thought the earlier fellow monks had exaggerated—what could a few-year-old child possibly do? Yet upon seeing her today, they found themselves growing increasingly tense. Every time their swords approached the girl, she managed to evade them. As she gazed at them with a cold, distant gaze, the chime of the bell growing more distinct, they felt an eerie sense of unease—the bell’s sound now seeming like a death knell. Yet she refused to strike back, merely darting in and out, as if playing a game with them. Clearly, she was making them feel foolish. A surge of anger surged within her, and the leading black-robed figure fixed his eyes with a blazing intensity. "Little girl," he declared, "you dare to play us for fools?" With those words, he exchanged glances with the others. He drew his inner energy into the tip of his sword and launched a powerful strike. Meanwhile, the two behind her turned away, moving swiftly toward the middle-aged woman. If he wasn’t mistaken, the girl clearly held the middle-aged woman in high regard. Cold-bent observed the leading black-robed figure channeling his energy, her lips curling into a smile—half-amused, After all, with her frequent use of spiritual energy, it was time someone saw just how strong she truly was. Standing there with her petite frame, steady and unmoving, she deflected the black-robed swordsman’s attacks—each time the blade came within five centimeters of her, she simply raised her hand, sending a stronger internal force that sent the sword rebounding back. A sharp *crack* echoed, and the sword snapped in two. The black-robed swordsman gasped, feeling a sudden darkness before him, struck by a cold, bending surge of internal energy across his chest, spewing out a gush of blood as he collapsed to the ground. "Miss!" The nurse, pressed against the side of her neck by the other black-robed men with their swords, felt the cold pressure seep through her neck and spread throughout her body. She couldn’t help but gasp in alarm. The woman with the cold, dark eyes turned to see the nurse’s panic. A wave of danger surged around her—excellent. She had dared to use the nurse as leverage. "You must commit suicide now, or I will take her life," the black-robed man said, as the leader fell and several others grew "Cold and straight, Cold Wanying sneered, 'Heaven has a path—yet you won't take it. Instead, you charge straight into Hell.' She detests it when others threaten or command her. The wind stirs, and the silver bells at her waist chime softly. A few strands of her black hair drift in the breeze, her black eyes like ice, her bare hands freezing the air around her. With a flick of her fingers, she silently presses on the acupoints of the several people present. Plink— the sword in the black-clad man’s hand falls to the ground, making a clear sound. Taking advantage of the moment, the nurse, her legs slightly trembling, stumbles away from the group. "You—you actually have the ability to press acupoints from a distance!" Suddenly immobilized, all the black-clad attendants are stunned. Their eyes widen in fear, fixed on Cold Wanying’s composed, cold expression. Cold Wanying walks to the group, lifting the fallen sword and pointing it at one of the black-clad figures. "Tell me—who sent you to assassinate me?" "Hmph." The man turns his head slightly, refusing to speak. Her small face was filled with cold disdain, as if a ghost of refinement had stepped into the world. Simply by gazing at them, every black-robed attendant felt a chill rise from their feet, as though standing in a vast, ancient cold vault—so intense that they could not help but shiver. "Um, um, she's the lady of the Northern General," finally managed a timid black-robed servant. "Indeed it is her," said Cold-Bend with a smile that dripped with blood. For six years, she had tirelessly sought to eliminate herself. Yet, she had always regarded it merely as a game. Now, however, it seems the game has come to an end. Otherwise, the mice might grow accustomed to believing they would one day become tigers. "I've already told you, Lady, please release us," pleaded the black-robed attendant. Cold-Bend stared at him coldly—such a timid soul. With a sharp clap of her hands, she struck several others, and the sound of snapping bones echoed through the air. The attendants fell to the ground in pain, stunned by the force—how fierce she was, having completely shattered their martial arts abilities. Several pairs of black eyes glared fiercely at Ling Wanwan, their teeth clenched tightly against their lips, no longer allowing the pain to escape as a cry. This young girl was cold and unyielding—perhaps the more they suffered, the happier she grew. Only regretted their bad fortune in encountering such an eerie maiden. "Go back and have someone deliver a message to the general—say I've been injured." "Oh?" Yinqin and the nursemaid exchanged puzzled glances. Had she been injured? Not at all. Still, with all their questions unanswered, they followed Ling Wanwan quietly. —From "The Nine-Year-Old Fairy Princess"— Friends who enjoy this post, please vote for Yueer and leave a review. Thank you! Wishing everyone a joyful New Year.