56.2

And the princess who had wanted to trample the world's beauty under her feet, was now scared stiff. Her lips quivered and her ear bled, drop by drop, onto the cell floor that had held Ji Yunhe for nearly six years.

"I have seen every inch of this floor over the years, but it looks most beautiful today." Ji Yunhe laughed.

"Because it will be painted with your blood." Princess Shunde's teeth clattered uncontrollably.

"Scared? How does it feel to be scared?" Ji Yunhe stared into her eyes.

"But a bet is a bet. Since you can't suppress the rebellion in the north, I have to cut away your flesh inch by inch." Ji Yunhe raised her blade and aimed down. But with a sudden hollar, Ji Yunhe's body was violently pushed off of Princess Shunde.

The blade in her hand still slashed into Princess Shunde's face. It sliced through her cheek, over the bridge of her nose, and into the other cheek, leaving a long gash across her entire face.

Princess Shunde let out a heart wrenching scream and immediately sat up on her knees. She covered her face with her hands and blood seeped through her fingers.

"My face! My face!" she cried out in pain. And Ji Yunhe was now completely drained of her power. She sat up and shook her head as her vision blurred. Black iron armor… It was the young general Zhu Ling, now grown up...

"Princess!" Zhu Ling looked at the disfigured Princess Shunde, then turned his head in anger and glared at Ji Yunhe.

"Demon slaver! I should have killed you at the Demon Valley gate years ago!" He pulled out the big saber hanging at his waist and viciously slashed at Ji Yunhe.

Ji Yunhe summoned her black gas into a shield to defend, but Zhu Ling had not been idle over the years. His saber sliced through her protective aura and headed straight for her.

Then, like the first break of daylight, or water drops landing into a mountain spring, a fresh breeze blew past Ji Yunhe ear and a strand of silver hair swept across her face.

Her dull pupils lit up under this glimmer of light, and she slowly opened her eyes. As if a divine force in her soul gave her the strength, she lifted her head. A hand as flawless as white jade, clean and untainted, had caught the blade in midair.

The person who came did not move, but with a sound of morning bells and evening drums, Zhu Ling was thrown against the back of the cell. He passed out before he even had a chance to spit blood. Princess Shunde parted the fingers on her face and stammered,

"Jiao… jiaoren..."

"Changyi..."

Silver hair, blue eyes, and bitterly cold. He was the only immaculate existence inside this filthy, blood-stained prison.

He had always been like this, always...

And the only difference for Ji Yunhe...

… was the impact of seeing him now felt much more significant than when they had first met.