There was unrest at the border, and the Great Yin Emperor was furious. Amidst the uproar of public opinion and countless petitions from scholars and patriots, the emperor actually resisted the Prime Minister’s pressure, executed the envoy from Qing, and ordered Prince Guangling to lead the army to war at once.
Murong Feng, as expected, rushed to the battlefield without a moment’s delay.
He knew well that Luo Huanghun wouldn’t just sit still, so he left Bai Zhi to watch over her.
But Luo Huanghun still managed to disappear. When Murong Feng received the news, his face turned icy and he nearly lost control.
Despite his worry for Luo Huanghun, he couldn’t leave—this border war was too important to risk any mistake.
When he returned to his tent, he sensed something was off, drew his sword and was on guard—but the next second, a soft body flung itself into his arms.
Murong Feng broke out in a cold sweat, almost unable to stop his sword in time to avoid hurting her.
“What are you doing here on the battlefield? This is utter nonsense!”
Luo Huanghun looked up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You command armies and save the people of Great Yin. I have excellent medical skills—I can save your life.”
“Not only that, I can save your soldiers, and countless warriors of Great Yin.”
Luo Huanghun smiled, her eyes clear and free.
In this life, Luo Huanghun would not be trapped in a mansion. She could see the world, do what she wanted, and finally put her grandfather’s medical skills to use.
Murong Feng had no way to deal with her, so he could only mete out a little “punishment” himself, leaving Luo Huanghun breathless.
Afterward, Luo Huanghun dressed as a man and became the army’s physician.
Rumors began to spread among the Guangling Army’s officers: their usually unapproachable general was always especially gentle with the frail little army doctor.
Those who knew the truth would just smile knowingly. They were happy for their general—Murong Feng had been alone for too long.
Bai Zhi soon caught up, having been reassigned for failing her task. But now, when she looked at Luo Huanghun, her gaze was even colder than before.
The battlefield this time was at Muyang, the place Murong Feng had chosen for the decisive battle. His strategy was brilliant; he hadn’t crushed Qing before, partly to keep a way out for himself, but also to wait for this final confrontation.
The war drums sounded, and the great battle began.
Murong Feng led from the front, charging with his soldiers like a god of war—unstoppable wherever he went.
Luo Huanghun waited anxiously in the camp, only relaxing when she heard the bugle for retreat and saw, from afar, that blood-soaked silhouette.
But as soon as Murong Feng entered the command tent, before he could say a word to Luo Huanghun, he collapsed.
Luo Huanghun immediately examined him and found that one of his wounds showed signs of poisoning. Murong Feng soon developed a high fever.
The battle situation became tense. The officers kept Murong Feng’s injury a secret and scrambled to find an antidote as quickly as possible.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Just as Murong Feng was winning victory after victory, the Prime Minister, still scheming, somehow convinced the emperor to send a military inspector to the front.
Suddenly, the Guangling Army faced threats from both within and without.