That smile was like a spring breeze, bright and warm.
Xie Lang was momentarily lost in thought.
Then I heard someone shouting next to me.
"It's Your Majesty!"
"His Majesty is back!"
"Why should we be afraid of this wretched bastard! Kill him!"
"rush!"
When Wen Hemian was around, she was able to stabilize the morale of the troops and act as their backbone. However, she had never led troops into battle, so when it came to boosting morale, she was not as effective as Xie Lang when he came back in person.
Having finally met again, the two had a thousand words to say. Given the current situation, dealing with the rebels was more important than anything else.
Xie Lang's gaze was extremely solemn, and he simply said two words: "Wait for me."
Wen Hemian nodded.
Now that Xie Lang has returned, there is no need for Xie Yong to hold the line. The army he brought back is unstoppable and has caught Xie Yong off guard.
Although the rebels noticed their arrival immediately, the terrain here was inherently easy to defend and difficult to attack. Once inside, they would be surrounded and unable to retreat, so they could only passively resist.
As Wen Hemian had observed, Xie Yong was basically unskilled in martial arts and could only hurriedly evade danger under the protection of his close associates.
An arrow flew through the air and struck his hair ornament. He couldn't dodge it in time, and his hair fell down in a mess. His face was covered in bruises and black marks, and he looked extremely disheveled.
He stared intently at the emperor on horseback not far away, racking his brains but still unable to understand how someone who had been out of contact for more than twenty days could suddenly appear here at this moment.
Are all those men under him just freeloaders?
How could such important information have gone undetected!
If he had known this would happen, he shouldn't have wasted so much time talking to Wen Hemian. If he had captured someone, he could have threatened them, but without someone, nothing would have been possible!
"Your Highness, you should go first!"
"Yes, as long as we're alive, we can always fight again! The young emperor brought back too many people, and they even have muskets. We can't defeat them!"
His subordinates saw the situation earlier than he did; in this dilemma, retreat was the best option!
Xie Yong was naturally unwilling to give up this excellent opportunity, but unfortunately he had no time to think. His subordinates had only taken a few steps to protect him when an arrow shot from behind at his shoulder and pierced his flesh.
He winced in pain and fell forward.
The next moment, two whooshing sounds came from the air. This time, the target was his feet. One of them was blocked by his subordinate, while the other pierced his calf, causing him to fall heavily to the ground.
He turned around, his eyes wide with fury: "Who—"
The young emperor sat on his horse, looking down at him with icy eyes: "It is I."
He held the bow and arrow in his hand, raised his hand, and quickly aligned Xie Yong's other foot as well.
Xie Yong let out a howl, gasped for breath, and fainted.
The war was clearly coming to an end. Xie Yong's men were undoubtedly at a disadvantage. The air was thick with the smell of blood, and snow began to fall again. The rebels were either scattered or fleeing. Apart from a few close friends, almost no one cared about Xie Yong's life or death.
Seeing that the time was right, Zhou Ting shouted, "Put down your weapons! Those who surrender will not be killed!"
An army without morale is just a disorganized mess. Someone saw Prince Jia lying unconscious on the ground and felt a pang of sorrow. He dropped his weapon and knelt down.
Some people tried to flee in terror, but the soldiers guarding the perimeter showed them no mercy, swiftly cutting them down with their swords. Within the entire encirclement, not even a fly could escape.
The white snow was covered in filth, and gradually more and more people dropped their weapons, knelt down, and surrendered.
The group of subordinates around Prince Jia were trapped in the center and finally despaired, collapsing to their knees in defeat.
This also gave them a taste of what it truly means to be like the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.
Xie Lang casually glanced at Prince Jia, who lay on the ground like a dead dog, and ordered, "Arrest him and take him into custody."
The battlefield would be cleared by others. Xie Lang was eager to see the person he wanted to see, so he dismounted and hurried toward the main tent.
Wen Heming had been waiting for him there for a long time.
As the saying goes, one feels apprehensive as one approaches home. Before going in, Xie Lang carefully examined himself, took off his armor, and made sure it was clean before lifting the curtain and entering.
A pen came flying right at me.
Xie Lang caught it without even looking up.
He looked over, his voice slightly flustered as he asked, "Han Shuang?"
Having not seen each other for a long time, Wen Hemian silently sized up the person in front of him.
He became thinner, but it seemed that it was through this training that his temperament became more composed, and he developed a dignified aura, naturally majestic and sharp.
After worrying for so long, I suddenly felt completely relaxed. I can't say how excited I was, but my slightly warm eyes are enough to prove it.
Wen Heming closed her eyes, raised her hand and wrapped it around his waist, letting him hold her even tighter.
Wen Heming's voice was low and hoarse: "...You've really made something of yourself. Is faking your death to fool people fun? Do you know how worried she would be?"
Before she could finish speaking, she was pulled into the arms of the young man who rushed forward. His strong arms seemed to tremble slightly, carrying an indescribable emotion: "It was my fault, Hanshuang, I missed you so much."
He still smelled of gunpowder, but his embrace was warm. He raised a hand and touched her cheek, his voice low and husky: "You don't know, I've been missing you so much I'm going crazy."
After a brief, dreamlike time together, their separation brought an endless and prolonged sense of emptiness. He would often wake up in the middle of the night, wondering if he was dreaming.
Only his inner conviction sustained him, preventing him from impulsively wanting to return to the capital.
No, I know.
Wen Heming answered in this way.
She slowly raised her eyes and gazed into the young man's eyes: "When I received the news, I was very worried. Your Majesty, you don't need to doubt my feelings for you. Perhaps it came a little late, but I promised you that I meant it."
Xie Lang was speechless: "...I didn't doubt it, I just felt it wasn't quite real."
He had too many dreams, and the emptiness he felt after waking up each time always made him feel uncomfortable for a long time. He was like a person who had been wandering in the darkness for a long time and no longer believed that he could see the dawn.
He never distrusted Wen Hemian; what he distrusted was himself.
"What's unrealistic about it?"
After such a thrilling experience, Wen Hemian was struggling to control her fluctuating emotions, and coincidentally, she didn't want to: "Is it me? Or our relationship?"
Xie Lang's voice was muffled, unusually clumsy: "No..."
Wen Heming's gaze was calm as she traced his face. Thinking about what had happened these past few days, she felt a surge of anger and suddenly became impatient.
After a while, she exerted a little force, hooked her arm around the young man's neck, and her gentle, cool voice carried a seductive quality.
"Forget it, there's no point in explaining it. I don't want to hear it."
"Xie Huaichuan, kiss me."
Xie Lang stared at her, his breathing suddenly becoming erratic.
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