Six years later, the sky was clear and blue, with floating clouds. Green trees flourished, grasses swayed gently, and flowers released a fragrant aroma. On a scenic countryside landscape, two elegant sedan chairs moved side by side, one behind the other. Lifting the curtain of the front chair, a pale face revealed itself—though only eight or nine years old, it was evident that this girl would become an incomparable beauty in the future. Her dark, gem-like eyes watched the world outside with quiet interest; her lips were gently pressed together. The vibrant green hues of nature seemed to fill her spirit and lift one’s soul. Indeed, spring had just reached its peak—perfect timing for a countryside outing. "Yin Qin," said Cold Wan-wan to her attendant maid standing beside her, "have them stop the sedan." "Yes, milady," Yin Qin nodded, and addressed the carriage attendants, "Stop the carriages now." The sedan came to a halt. Cold Wan-wan lifted the curtain and stepped out. "What is it?" The second sedan stopped as well; its curtain was raised, revealing the nursemaid's figure. "Madam," said Cold Wan-wan, "the weather is splendid—the scenery is breathtaking. Let us rest here for a while." For years now, this modern woman—always navigating through blood and power struggles on the fringes of politics and the martial world—had never felt so at ease, enjoying such tranquil countryside beauty. "Very well," the nursemaid replied. She looked around at the gentle breeze and blooming flowers, her face reflecting a smile. After many years, she had not felt this peaceful in her life either. "Instruct Yin Qin to find an open space, lay down tablecloths, and arrange all our provisions," Cold Wan-wan said, then gestured to the carriage attendants. "You too—take a rest beside." "Thank you, milady," the attendants bowed and moved aside. "Madam, look at how beautiful the rape flowers are—the golden hues stretch everywhere!" As the wind swept through, the fields of rapeseed swayed in waves, like rippling seas, so breathtakingly lovely. "Oh, Lady Cold is most unusual," the nursemaid chuckled, shaking her head. "Which young lady doesn’t love the noble peonies? Yet here’s a girl who prefers these humble rape flowers." "Each person has their own preferences—whether for greens or root vegetables," said Cold Wan-wan, with a dismissive shrug. "What is so special about peonies? They’re ornamental only; utterly impractical." To her, the rape flowers were not just beautiful—they could be used to make golden oil and brought delicious flavors to meals—nothing less than equal to peonies in value. The nursemaid smiled; she was delighted at how much authority Cold Wan-wan wielded now. For six years, life had not worn heavily upon her, nor had it altered her appearance or spirit. Indeed, Lady Cold had grown taller and more graceful—but no one dared challenge her. Her temperament remained unyielding. She did what she wanted, unapologetically; a true sovereign in her own right. Whether within the household or beyond, everyone feared her—so many knew that the young lady of the Northern General’s household was a formidable force who moved with effortless grace and determination. Anyone who displeased her would find themselves thoroughly disconcerted. Behind closed doors, they all called her "the little demon." "Ah!" Yin Qin suddenly cried out, her voice filled with alarm—her tray of food tumbled to the ground in confusion. "What is it? What is wrong?" The carriage attendants quickly rose to their feet. "You are Lady Cold, aren’t you?" A man in black, veiled by a face cloth and holding a sharp sword, now stepped forward, his hands firmly gripping Yin Qin’s arms. Behind him stood several other men dressed in black—silent, deadly killers. The attendants watched, stunned—these were men who killed without hesitation. "Set me free," said Cold Wan-wan, her gaze steady and calm as she looked at the group. The leader raised his sword high, striking Yin Qin with such force that she lost consciousness and collapsed beside the ground. "Kill them all!" he commanded. His hands swept out, and instantly, his followers surged forward like a storm of swords. "Madam, be careful," said Cold Wan-wan as she pushed the nursemaid aside. "My lady, you must be cautious!" The nursemaid watched the group’s grim expressions with growing panic—her voice rising. For six years now, Lady Cold had been attacked countless times—but each time, she emerged unharmed. This time too, she hoped to survive. She recalled a conversation from her past when the young lady said that someone might one day harm her life. Now, looking back, it seemed true—perhaps even now, her gentle nature was proving detrimental. As the eight carriage attendants began to throw stones and objects at the black-clad men, their efforts were clumsy yet determined. The rain of stones, though not lethal, made them uncomfortable. Several of the black men growled in annoyance—their swords flashed with sharp glimmers of light as they moved in defense. When it became clear that resistance was futile, the attendants began to run. Yet these strong-willed, untrained laborers could not match the agility and grace of the assassins. A few stumbled, fell, and lay motionless—bloodstained on their garments, eyes wide open with finality. Seeing her carriage attendants fall, the nursemaid’s anxiety grew. She clutched tightly at her hands—helpless, standing still, unable to move. The small figure of Cold Wan-wan moved gracefully between the black-clad men like a swaying swallow, each delicate silver bell on her waist chiming with crisp clarity—an eerie sound. Initially, the assassins had thought their comrades’ reports exaggerated—their young charge, only a few years old—how could she possibly be anything extraordinary? Yet now, upon close observation, they found themselves growing increasingly tense. Every time the sword of one of them approached her, she seemed to glide effortlessly out of its path. As she calmly watched with her calm, deep gaze and listened to the chime of her bells—the sound grew more like a death knell. She did not strike back; instead, she simply moved from side to side—seeming to play with them. This was clearly an act of deliberate deception? The leader’s eyes blazed with growing frustration as he stared at her. "Will you speak?" Cold Wan-wan lifted one eyebrow and swiftly severed the man’s left arm with a single stroke. "Ahhh!" Blood splattered across the others’ faces—everyone stood in stunned awe. "Now, will you speak?!" The young woman's face grew stern—her expression now cold and severe, like a spirit descended from the underworld. Every glance she gave them sent a wave of chill through their bodies—like standing within an eternal winter chamber. They shivered involuntarily. "At last," one of the more timid men finally managed to speak, "it is the General’s wife." "Indeed," Cold Wan-wan smiled gently—a smile full of blood and triumph. For six years now, she had tirelessly worked to eliminate herself—yet until now, she had only seen it as a game. And now, perhaps, that game had reached its end. So that the mice, who grew accustomed to being served by the rats, might not one day believe they would become the lions themselves. "I have said," pleaded the man, "please let us go." Cold Wan-wan glanced at him with icy disdain—such a weakling. Then, with two sharp snaps of her fingers, she struck several of the black-clad men on their bodies—the sound of snapping bones echoed through the air. The men collapsed in pain—how fierce! She had completely disabled their martial abilities. Their dark eyes glared at her with resentment; their teeth clenched tightly as they tried to hold back cries of agony. This girl was heartless, perhaps even enjoying their suffering. They only regretted having met such a demon. The nursemaid stared wide-eyed at Cold Wan-wan—unable to comprehend the depth of coldness and power radiating from her. The young lady’s demeanor had transformed so completely that she often questioned whether the woman before her was still the same person who once sat quietly reading books in the garden. "Ah!" Yin Qin, now awakening from unconsciousness, rubbed her eyes only to be startled by the bloodied scene unfolding around them. What had happened? How could such a beautiful countryside landscape have turned into this bloody battlefield? "Don’t cry," Cold Wan-wan said with an unyielding gaze as she prepared to return to the estate. "But—what about these?" Yin Qin pointed at the fallen carriage attendants, her voice trembling. "They will be honored and laid to rest on our return," said Cold Wan-wan. "They have given their lives in service to me—they deserve proper mourning. And we shall send a message to the General: that I have been injured." "What?" Yin Qin and the nursemaid exchanged bewildered glances—Lady Cold had not sustained any injury at all. With lingering questions, they followed silently as Cold Wan-wan walked away. ——*The Nine-Year-Old Demon Princess*—— Dear friends, please vote for Yueer and leave a comment below—we would truly appreciate it! Wishing you all a joyful New Year!