Lin Ji'an had just finished giving her grand, villain-defying speech and was turning to lead her trembling Class 9 ducklings deeper into the woods, confident that she had thoroughly dealt with the royal nuisance.
She took precisely three steps.
Then, the forest exploded.
It wasn't an explosion of fire or Qi, but an explosion of sheer, unadulterated panic.
The dense underbrush to the east was violently flattened as the five Class 6 guards burst back into the clearing, screaming at the top of their lungs, their swords abandoned somewhere in the dirt.
Behind them, tripping over her own elaborate crimson skirts, came Princess Zhao Ling'er.
The haughty arrogance was gone. Her face was paper-white, tears streaming down her cheeks, and she was scrambling backward like a crab as a massive shadow blotted out the sun.
"Help! Someone! Brother Lin!" Ling'er shrieked, her voice cracking.
Ji'an whipped around, her hand instinctively flying to her Black Iron Spatula.
