Chapter 91: Female Hero Zhang Jiani

Jiang Mingyu crashed heavily onto the cold, hard stone floor of the county courthouse, a dull pain searing his chest, as if his five viscera and six bowels had been shaken and overturned by that sudden kick.

He weakly struggled to rise, when suddenly a familiar figure appeared before him; Jiang Mingyu’s heart leapt with joy, eager to shout out—but the next instant, a cold blade pressed against his throat, and a sweet yet chilling female voice whispered beside his ear: “Shut up.”

Jiang Mingyu shuddered instantly, sweat pouring down his body; he hastily stifled the rest of his cry, like a duck with its neck wrung, reduced to whimpering gasps.

Carefully, he slowly lifted his gaze along the blade, seeing a snow-white jade hand holding the sword with serene grace, yet wielding a lethal strike; above it, a face of peerless beauty— a breathtakingly gorgeous woman stood before him.

This woman, with bright eyes and white teeth, porcelain skin, her jet-black hair cascading like a waterfall, her complexion flushed with delicate pink, exuded a seductive charm.

Her luminous eyes sparkled with life, her small nose fluttered, her cherry lips glistened, her slender white neck and supple waist made her seem like a celestial fairy descending from heaven—a naturally perfect beauty.

Gazing at her ethereal appearance, Jiang Mingyu was spellbound; even Liu Yifei standing beside her seemed three shades duller.

Yet in this beauty’s phoenix eyes burned icy killing intent—arrogant, cold, like the winter wind outside the window, making one dare not meet her gaze.

Seeing Jiang Mingyu stare fixedly at her, the beauty frowned slightly, lifted her jade hand gently, and the blade grazed his cheek and neck, leaving a bloody trail.

Her crimson lips parted, frost glinting in her phoenix eyes; she spoke slowly, word by word: “Lecher, you’re incorrigible!”

No sooner had the words left her lips than her long sword shot forward like a silver snake striking with its tongue, aimed straight at Jiang Mingyu’s throat.

Jiang Mingyu felt a chill pierce his heart—this strike was swift, brutal, precise; he had no defense at all, and this blow would surely end his life.

In that split second, Liu Yifei beside him snapped back to awareness, her heart in turmoil.

She instinctively cried out: “Stop!”—this pleading shout, uttered at the last possible moment, caused the beauty to halt the fatal thrust; Jiang Mingyu narrowly escaped death.

The beauty frowned slightly, slowly withdrew her sword, and turned to Liu Yifei with a questioning look, as if asking why she had intervened.

Liu Yifei studied her from head to toe, then blushed deeply, her eyes reigniting with hope; she cried out excitedly: “Chu Ran! You’re Chu Ran, aren’t you?”

She trembled with emotion, tears welling in her eyes, as if reuniting with a long-lost dear friend.

Chu Ran, who had just narrowly escaped death, froze: “Liu Yifei knows this tigress? What’s going on?”

Chu Ran turned to look at Liu Yifei, a faint smile tugging at her lips; she finally smiled slightly: “Yes, it’s me. Yifei, you still remember me.”

“Yifei, who is this lecher? How dare he be so disrespectful?” She turned back to Jiang Mingyu, her eyes flickering with revulsion, her voice laced with latent killing intent.

Liu Yifei stepped forward quickly, gently grasping Chu Ran’s sword-wielding arm, and soothed softly: “Chu Ran, don’t act rashly. He’s the newly appointed Imperial Envoy, Jiang Mingyu. We mustn’t offend him.”

The woman named Chu Ran glanced at Jiang Mingyu, still lying on the ground, and said with surprise: “You’re the new Imperial Envoy?”

Jiang Mingyu, having been beaten for no reason and nearly killed, scowled: “What, I don’t look like one? What do you think an Imperial Envoy should look like?”

Chu Ran, whose wrist Liu Yifei held, snorted coldly and said haughtily: “What bad luck for Shangmu to get such a sleazy envoy. A proper envoy would never harbor improper thoughts toward Yifei.”

Jiang Mingyu thought inwardly: Could this tigress also be infatuated with Liu Yifei?

Hearing the word “sleazy,” Liu Yifei blushed furiously and quickly explained: “Chu Ran, you misunderstand him. Master Jiang is upright, a beloved official who wins the people’s hearts—he would never behave as you suggest. Please sheathe your sword.”

Liu Yifei pulled Jiang Mingyu up and gave Chu Ran a full account of the poetry incident, insisting the verses were entirely her own work and that Jiang Mingyu had no improper intentions.

Chu Ran still looked impatient, but for Liu Yifei’s sake, she could only inwardly grunt in annoyance, sheathed her sword, and stood aside in silence—though her eyes kept darting toward Jiang Mingyu, as if ready to devour him alive.

Liu Yifei sensed the heavy tension between them and smiled sweetly: “Master Jiang, this is my childhood close friend, Wang Chu Ran.”

“A few years ago, she took a female sword saint from Mount Tian as her master and trained in seclusion in the deep mountains; now her martial skill is peerless—she is an extraordinary female hero.”

Jiang Mingyu frowned, rubbing the shoe print on his chest, and sneered: “I’ve already experienced her martial skill—she’s indeed formidable, cruel and bloodthirsty, a ruthless female demon.”

Liu Yifei chuckled awkwardly, embarrassed: “It’s all my fault for causing this absurd misunderstanding. I apologize on Chu Ran’s behalf—please don’t hold it against her.”

But Wang Chu Ran had no intention of apologizing; she bluntly declared: “Lecher, you deserved it.”

Since she was Liu Yifei’s friend, Jiang Mingyu said nothing more, only muttered under his breath: “Tigress.”

Wang Chu Ran immediately snapped: “Corrupt official, what did you say?”

Her hand slid back onto the hilt of her recently sheathed short sword.

Seeing blood about to be spilled again, Liu Yifei quickly smiled at Jiang Mingyu: “Master Jiang, you’re busy—we won’t disturb you further.”

“We’ll visit again another day. Goodbye, goodbye.”

She grabbed Wang Chu Ran’s hand again, urging gently: “You’re too impulsive—come on, let’s go.”

Though fiery-tempered, Wang Chu Ran still obeyed Liu Yifei. She shot Jiang Mingyu a venomous glare, brimming with contempt and disdain, then stormed off with Liu Yifei.

As they walked away, Liu Yifei asked softly: “Chu Ran, when did you sneak back? Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were still training in some remote mountain forest.”

Wang Chu Ran seemed to smile: “I arrived in Shangmu this morning. When I heard from your father that you were at the courthouse, I came straight here.”

Liu Yifei glanced curiously at the guards nearby and asked: “Then how did you slip in without anyone noticing? These guards didn’t seem to see you at all.”

This time Chu Ran actually laughed aloud, with clear disdain: “These incompetent guards? To spot me? That’s pure fantasy. If they could detect my movements, all my years of secret training in lightness skills would’ve been wasted.”

The two walked farther and farther, soon vanishing at the end of the long corridor.

Jiang Mingyu’s face darkened further; he slammed a fist into the ground, silently cursing that tigress for her arrogance.

What enraged him wasn’t the beating—it was Chu Ran’s final, dismissive remark.

The courthouse housed over a dozen skilled warriors; to ordinary civilians, it was an impregnable stronghold.

But against elite experts like Tuxesuo and Chu Ran, these green guards would be as fragile as paper.

Jiang Mingyu thought: If Prince Qi or Huang Chaoran hired top-tier martial artists, his life as a newly appointed county magistrate could end at any moment.

He must quickly train these men to suppress bandits, hardening their skills and adaptability through rigorous drills, to ensure his own and the courthouse’s safety.

In the only inn in Shangmu, Tang Cheng’an sat alone in a corner by a peachwood round table, his expression grim as he stared out the window.

From the window, he could see the ceaseless flow of pedestrians and the noisy marketplace.

At that moment, two soft knocks came at the door; Tang Cheng’an’s gaze shifted, and he murmured: “Enter.”

A middle-aged man in coarse cloth crept in, glanced warily around, then bowed deeply to Tang Cheng’an and whispered urgently: “My lord, I’ve done as you ordered—I’ve inquired everywhere.”

Tang Cheng’an nodded expressionlessly, gesturing for him to sit and speak.

The man glanced again at the door, then quietly sat opposite Tang Cheng’an, tense and scanning the room.

“Jiang Mingyu has been recruiting troops outside the city—already gathered forty to fifty thousand men, and they’re drilling day and night in the city defense camp.”

He spoke quickly in a low voice: “The camp echoes with battle cries every day, growing louder—everyone in the city knows, but all fear Jiang Mingyu and Wang Zhe’s power, so no one dares speak out.”

Tang Cheng’an fell silent for a moment, his brows knitted, coldly saying: “To openly gather an army and rebel—Jiang Mingyu has balls. He’s new here; he certainly lacks the strength. But his boldness suggests Wang Zhe, that old fox, is secretly aiding him—the two are conspiring to rebel!”

At this, Tang Cheng’an leapt to his feet, pacing the room. His back straight, hands clasped behind him, eyes sharp, a cold smirk on his lips—as if he already saw victory in his grasp.

“Come. I’ll go see for myself. Once I have proof, I’ll immediately submit a memorial to the Chancellor.”

He strode toward the door like a tiger long caged, now ready to pounce.

“Once Jiang Mingyu and that old fox Wang Zhe are eliminated, our good days will begin.”

A gleam of excitement flashed in his eyes; a sinister smile curled his lips.