Ning Shu sat down in her tent and removed the cushions tied around her legs. After marching for so long, the saddle had already rubbed her thighs raw. The cushions had been the only thing preventing the wounds from worsening.
She sprinkled medicinal powder over the reddened areas. Suddenly, she heard a girl screaming for help.
Startled, Ning Shu hurried out of her tent. The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. Faintly, she heard the distant sound of galloping hooves.
Climbing up a nearby tree to get a better view, Ning Shu spotted about twenty Huns on horseback. They were chasing a woman, treating it as sport.
The men wore cruel, heartless smiles as they played this twisted game of cat and mouse.
Fury surged through Ning Shu. She jumped down from the tree and strode toward the largest tent in the camp.
"Marshal," she said as she entered, "I've spotted traces of Tartars ahead. I request that you assign this general a squadron of soldiers."
Shen Feng, seated with his high-ranking officers, turned to them and asked, "Who will go with the left vanguard?"
Although Princess Jiahui's rank was second only to Shen Feng's, none of the officers were willing to place themselves under the command of a woman.
Seeing their hesitation, Ning Shu cracked her whip. "Come with this princess, or this princess will whip you to death!"
Duan Xinghui was the first to step forward. Shen Feng then assigned Ning Shu a squadron of about a hundred soldiers. Together, they set off toward the Huns.
When they arrived, the Huns had already caught the woman and torn apart her clothing.
The Huns surrounded the woman, their obscene laughter blending with her angry, desperate cries.
Ning Shu's anger boiled over, and she charged forward on her horse. She lashed her whip at the man on top of the woman.
The man was in the process of raising his spear when the whip struck his back. A sharp burst of pain surged through him, followed by numbness.
Ning Shu's strike had injured the man's vertebra, leaving him temporarily immobilized.
Everyone froze, stunned by this sudden turn of events. All eyes locked on Ning Shu, who stood firm, whip in hand.
Seizing the opportunity, Ning Shu leaned down, grabbed the woman by the elbow, and pulled her onto the horse.
The woman, still dazed, stared at Ning Shu and felt herself drawn into the clarity and coldness of her eyes.
The Tartars, enraged at losing their spoils of war, erupted into furious shouting. For years, the Huns had acted with impunity at the border and had never experienced such defiance.
Ning Shu removed her red cloak and draped it over the woman's shoulders. The gesture seemed to jolt the woman out of her shock. She shivered slightly and lowered her head.
The troops caught up with Ning Shu moments later.
When Duan Xinghui saw the Huns, his face twisted in rage. To him, they were sworn enemies. He still carried the humiliation of falling into one of their traps and losing his position as general because of it.
The Huns began shouting angrily in their own language, incomprehensible to Ning Shu. However, when they noticed the large number of troops gathering, one of them stammered in broken Great Yong dialect, "Y-you… you're not the border guards."
The soldiers stationed at the border had long been terrorized by the Huns and avoided them whenever possible. This fear had allowed the Huns to act so recklessly on Great Yong's land.