Special Forces Princess: This Concubine is Peerless Under Heaven
Chapter 7: Such a Massive "Murder Weapon"!
This chapter is machine-translated by AI, with ongoing community review. Quality may vary between chapters.
A massive "lethal weapon"!
Everything, absolutely everything, had long since become a distant past in her memory.
Now, her name is Feng Yu, and her status is the sole heir to the noble Feng family of the Aolong Kingdom.
She inherited her title at the age of eleven, possessing the most fertile land and the most luxurious manor in the Aolong Kingdom.
She is the youngest, and the only, duchess in the Aolong Kingdom.
As long as she successfully lives past her sixteenth birthday, she will become the master of the Wind of Kingdom’s most formidable heroic force—the Wind’s Might Cavalry Regiment.
Not only that, but she is also the leader of the "Night’s Thorn" assassin guild.
Not just in the Aolong Kingdom, but even in the surrounding neighboring countries, this assassin guild has quite a reputation.
In just two short years, it rose abruptly, going from unknown to its current unrivaled fame.
Of course, all of this is due to Feng Yu joining and spearheading its operations.
Whether in the open or in the shadows, no one dares to disregard her.
"Little Feather, you're awake?!"
From her left side came a lazy, soft voice.
Hearing that voice, Feng Yu’s back instinctively tensed, and her left hand swiftly reached for the dagger strapped to her thigh.
It was a habit formed over many years of being a special forces soldier.
Even now, it remains unchanged.
Although she has been here for four years, she remains full of vigilance toward this world.
One must know that regardless of her public or secret identities, she is a thorn in the side of many.
With such an existence, the danger surrounding her naturally cannot be ignored.
While inwardly berating herself for her carelessness, Feng Yu’s dagger swiftly left its sheath, coming to rest against the throat of the uninvited guest who had suddenly appeared on her bed.
The gleaming blade reflected the face of an unfamiliar youth.
He appeared to be eighteen or nineteen years old, his silky, silver hair scattered casually across the pillow.
Between the strands of hair were a pair of slender, pale ink-colored brows and a pair of ethereal, elongated peach-blossom eyes.