A lavish carriage rumbled down a long street piled high with snow on both sides. Pedestrians hurriedly stepped aside, fear in their eyes.
Front, back, left, and right, guards clad in heavy armor and armed with sharp blades rode alongside it, their auras stern and forbidding. The security was exceptionally tight.
A military banner hung from the rear of the carriage canopy, embroidered with a pattern of mountains, rivers, and clouds. On its reverse were the four words "Yangwu Army General," representing the man who was now, in truth, the foremost figure in all of Lingwu City.
General Yangwu, Meng Zhao, commanded fifty thousand troops. Allied with the City Lord's Mansion and forces great and small, with the enormous Meng Family backing him as well, his foundations were solid and his reserves profound. Calling him the nominal foremost figure would show too little respect for imperial authority, but calling him the actual foremost figure was no exaggeration whatsoever.
The carriage was exceedingly spacious, fashioned from precious wood. Skilled craftsmen had used extraordinarily ingenious methods to fuse pieces and strips of velvet together, embedding them around the carriage's interior. They not only kept out the cold and wind and softened jolts, but also greatly reduced the impact of external attacks.
A soft couch, thin blankets, a square table, tea snacks and fragrant tea, wisps of incense smoke—simple, yet filled with comfort.
Inside the carriage, Ding Zhanyun, who had only recently entered the Meng Family, wore a shy and lovely expression. Her snowy cheeks were dotted with patches of rosy red, while her clear, beautiful eyes still held delight and satisfaction. She clung dreamily to Meng Zhao with her slender, tender arms.
She looked exactly like a woman deeply in love, without the slightest trace of pretense.
In truth, there was no