The night gradually deepened.
Perhaps because of the fright during the day, Yu Tingwan did not sleep well at night. Trapped in a nightmare, her forehead was covered in sweat, and her breathing became rapid as she suddenly awoke.
Yu Tingwan curled up with her quilt, fear flickering in her eyes.
Images flashed fragmented before her eyes.
Paper money flew, cries and sobs echoed. The wind and snow swirled fiercely, bone-chilling and biting.
She saw herself in wedding attire, stumbling onto the street, seeking help from the Wei Family Army, who were carrying a coffin.
The sword at the deputy general's waist was unsheathed, slashing through the air with a piercing cold light, directly aimed at her.
"Anyone who disturbs the general's posthumous journey, dies!"
Yu Tingwan did not retreat in panic; the servants from the Dong Family behind her were the real wolves and tigers. Yet, they hesitated due to the presence of the Wei Family Army, not daring to approach.
