Ji Qingwu paid no mind to whether General Zhenbei had been turned into a pincushion by the poison needles.
As Aunt Zhang fell to the ground, Ji Qingwu straightened up, panting softly, her eyes fixed on the man mounted on Mo Ju a few meters away.
He had yet to lower his bow, and the killing intent in his eyes was thick and unwavering.
He drew his bow with the grace of a deity plucking a flower, but loosed his arrow with the finality of Yama reaping a soul.
Ji Qingwu suddenly understood why some called General Dingbei the Jade-faced Yama.
If he had worn such an expression the first time she met him, she would have been so terrified her heart would have pounded, and she'd have run and hid.
'But now, all Ji Qingwu wanted was...'
'All she wanted was...'
Ji Qingwu trotted over and stood beneath the tall horse.
She tilted her head up to look at him, her voice filled with unconcealed delight. "General, you're back!"
