The Regressed Princess - Chapter 63

Chapter 63: The Flow of Change; Slaves Are Like Weeds, Commoners Like Wooden Branches…

What?!

Andra was fine, but the instructor’s face turned ghost-white in an instant. This group of slaves was currently a powder keg waiting for a spark, and you dared to let them duel? Dueling required weapons!

She couldn’t agree, yet she didn’t dare refuse; she stood there frozen, unable to move.

However, the girl with golden-red hair nodded indifferently. “Alright. Lily, stand back a bit.”

She sent Eleanor to the side of the guard and pulled an iron sword from a nearby crate. The moment the sword was in her hand, Andra was mentally prepared: the quality of these swords was abysmal; they would surely shatter easily under her strength.

After a thought, she put the sword back in front of everyone and, with a clang, unsheathed her own sword. A flash of snowy light flickered at her waist.

This action instantly silenced the slaves who had been eager to try their luck. Looking at her brilliant blade, they recalled the vast difference between themselves and the nobility.

Soon, someone in the crowd said something, and the stagnant water began to bubble again as they moved a few steps forward.

A-Ying walked to the crate and picked up a sword. Behind her followed a dozen or so slaves with relatively calm expressions; they each took a sword from the crate as well.

The instructor naturally recognized this group and raised her hand to scold them: “Yo—you’re going to use numbers to bully a child?!” Normally, she held quite a bit of authority before the slaves, but today, she could stop no one.

The slaves stopped with faces full of indifference. The dozen or so swords in the crate were gone. They didn’t threaten the instructor to get more; after all, there was only one child and one enemy before them—soon, everyone would have a sword.

“Alright, let’s begin.”

A-Ying assumed a stance and beckoned to the golden-red haired youth with her palm. This person, after all, was just a child who hadn’t completed her Third Development. So what if she was High-blooded? Right now, everyone’s starting line was fair.

“Captain, her sword is better than ours!”

Different people had different understandings of fairness. Those behind A-Ying stepped out of the formation one by one, surrounding Andra aggressively. A dozen swords pointed at Andra simultaneously, like a cage of thorns.

Some felt wary due to the youth’s singular temperament, but more simply wanted to sacrifice her blood to their banner. Morale sometimes changes the outcome of a battle; they wanted to prove that slaves could defeat High-bloods—Are kings and nobles born to their status?

This noble youth came at the perfect time. They would kill her, shedding their sheepskin to grow the claws of wolves!

The atmosphere changed.

Andra’s hand holding the sword paused. She swept her gaze toward Eleanor and felt slightly relieved to see the little Princess being held up by the guard.

Phew~ then it’s fine.

That slave named Leaf was much stronger than this lot. If anything happened, she could take Eleanor and flee on horseback. As for herself.

Andra broke into a radiant smile.

Haha, this group is too naive!

Slaves are like weeds, commoners like wooden branches, and nobles are but stones. Was there any need to pay mind to these weeds? Oh, there was. She couldn’t let the Princess be frightened.

Clang.

Andra swung her sword sharply, her presence suddenly surging.

Whoosh.

The slaves felt an invisible wave of air. The youth was clearly alone, yet she reminded them of the scorching summer sun and iron whips dipped in brine!

No, they couldn’t be overwhelmed by her aura.

A-Ying was the first to rush forward. She knew the sword in her hand was trash, but even a trash sword had its uses. She stared at the youth’s side-waist, wanting to plunge the blade there.

That’s a flaw! That’s a flaw… is it?

She was only a few steps from the youth, but those steps became a chasm. The youth’s sword moved.

They never even crossed blades. The snowy-bright sword carved a graceful arc through the air and pierced into A-Ying’s ribs.

Squelch.

The youth’s strength was beyond description. Her wrist didn’t even seem to exert force, yet the sword tip slid smoothly through tempered flesh and bone, spiraling out like wilting petals from within.

My organs… are my organs still there? A-Ying felt her body heat fading rapidly.

Snap.

The youth’s longsword let out a crisp ring. Andra withdrew the blade in an instant. Large sprays of blood splattered outward, yet not a single drop stained the hem of her fluttering clothes.

Thump!

She kicked the slave in the abdomen. The agonizing pain of ruptured organs turned A-Ying’s vision black as she crashed down.

Her companions did not cry out for her. Their speed was too slow; they couldn’t see the youth’s movements, nor could they block her path as she broke through their line.

She was killing…!

No, she… was merely playing.

The youth still held the sword, but she no longer used the sharp edge to open anyone’s chest. She clearly could have unleashed a wave of slaughter, yet like a cat with mice, she crushed their dignity one by one with her feet.

The slaves who had been spectating finally made a move, wanting to rescue their companions but they were too slow. By the time they realized something was wrong and rushed forward brandishing their fists, the dozen captains had all fallen.

The youth with the sword exhaled, loosening her shoulders as if she had just finished a warm-up.

Is this the strength of a High-blood? Is this the gap between them and a High-blood?

A thick dread descended, tightening around their necks like a noose.

“Enough! Don’t be afraid! She’s only one person, charge!!”

A roar suddenly came from the back row. Everyone looked back it turned out the slaves at the very rear had taken advantage of the duel to knock out the guards, taking a large number of blades from the warehouse and even putting on leather armor!

The weapons, equipment, and overwhelming numbers allowed the slaves’ courage to flare up again as they pressed in on the enemy.

“Hehe.” The golden-red haired youth narrowed her eyes, casually twirling her sword. “Guess how many people are outside?”

This single sentence caused the slaves’ soaring momentum to halt abruptly.

True, how many people were outside? These nobles might have brought many guards. Even if they hadn’t, how strong would the city guards be that they needed to break through? What about the King of Nolanna’s army?

“Don’t panic run! Everyone, run!!”

The voices at the back grew clamorous. The pale-faced slaves looked around in confusion; they had lost their leaders—what else could they do but flee?

Flee? Where to flee? Should they surrender, or try to seize the nobles…!

By the time the cleverer slaves looked forward, the youth had already vaulted onto her horse. She gave them a cold sneer, slapped the piebald horse’s rump with her right hand, and galloped away on the chestnut horse.

The two horses vanished at the end of their vision. The slaves turned their gazes toward the instructor, who was shivering in the corner.

Trot, trot, trot.

The sound of hoofbeats echoed in her ears. Andra’s hearing was excellent; she heard more than one horse.

It seemed Scar-eye or others had noticed the trouble at the legion. Likely Manju and Thorns discovered the Princess was missing after buying their slaves and came looking immediately.

She gave a faint smile and didn’t stop until she reached the marketplace entrance, where Leaf reined in the bay horse and lifted the Princess down.

“Andra, are you hurt?” Eleanor poked her head out the moment she was off the horse, walking toward her as her feet hit the ground.

Andra also dismounted and ran toward the Princess, waving her hand casually. “No, only my clothes were slashed.”

There were cuts on her sleeve and waist where swords had struck. After all, it was many against one; she couldn’t evade every attack. If the enemies had been a bit stronger or more numerous, even she would have been injured.

“Mm, no injuries this time,” Eleanor muttered under her breath.

Her voice was too low for Andra to hear clearly, so she asked, “Highness, did you get hurt anywhere?”

“No I’m fine.”

Eleanor walked up to her to inspect her closely, then straightened up and said solemnly, “Luckily there were only a dozen or so people this time, and we tricked them out early. Otherwise, if so many armed slaves scattered outside and we didn’t have horses… how badly you would have been hacked by them.”

Andra froze for a moment, involuntarily imagining the scenario according to the little Princess’s words; she felt a sudden chill. No, she wasn’t afraid of these slaves, even if they had rushed out in groups to kill.

But if such things lower than weeds caught a chance to seriously wound her… the mere thought was unbearable! A flame burned in her heart for a moment, as if such a shameful scene had truly occurred once.

It’s just a hypothesis, how can I take it seriously?

She shook her head, putting away her look of disdain and irritation, and said seriously, “Please be at ease, I won’t die at the hands of such people. Even if they all revolted, I would protect you with all my might.”

The little Princess stared blankly into her eyes. Andra patted her own chest and asked with a smile, “You don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you very much.” Eleanor lowered her eyes and whispered, “You… will definitely protect me.”

Even with a burden to carry, Andra wouldn’t die here. Images flashed through Eleanor’s mind one, then two phantoms.

The Andra of the first life had carried her lover out of that forest. And the Andra of the third life had been worthy of her vow. To protect the little Princess who kept dragging her down, she had been seriously wounded. They had no horses, but Andra still held Eleanor’s hand and escaped… no, she carved out a path of survival.

Princess, it’s over.

The youth’s shoulder and waist were bleeding profusely; judging by the number of wounds, she looked even more injured than the time she fell off the cliff. But Andra was smiling; she seemed to be in a great mood. When she realized she had brought Eleanor out intact, that smile of relief completely masked the fury of being cut by “weeds.”

Her golden eyes were burning with a fire that could light up anyone who loved or followed her. But that fire extinguished along with the smile. Because a dagger, drawn from nowhere, was plunged into her abdomen. The little Princess had aimed for the heart, but Andra had instinctively grabbed her wrist and blocked it.

Why was this wound heavier, sharper, and more enraging than any other? Andra’s eyes turned blood-red. Why did the Princess do this?!

Later… the subsequent scenes abruptly vanished within the uncomprehending and innocent eyes of the current Andra. Andra wasn’t killed; she wouldn’t die even if seriously wounded, and she could even pick up the Princess and run further.

It’s okay, Andra… I still have many, many chances.

Eleanor touched the golden pendant on her chest; only four bloodstains remained on a certain petal.

“Let’s go back quickly.” The little Princess smiled like a flower. “I still have much to say to Scar-eye.”

“Mmh!” Andra looked at the little Princess’s cute smile and nodded sweetly. She took Eleanor’s soft hand and walked into the marketplace with her heart swaying.

As for Scar-eye—Scar-eye was speechless. She returned to the marketplace with her guards and couldn’t help but offer a smile that was uglier than crying when she saw the Princess.

The old woman was naturally acting; she had just arrived at the scene with Manju and Thorns, using fully armed guards to suppress the rebellion with great effort. This wasn’t over. Scar-eye didn’t know that because Salin and a portion of the slaves had been purchased in advance, the intensity of this rebellion was much smaller than in the past and the life before that. She only knew that when she returned to the market with her confidants, she found the slaves in the market were also eager to act.

Scar-eye finally felt she was old. She clutched her heart and whispered “Elsa is still young” several times before suppressing that feeling of a stroke. By the time she stabilized the situation and begged every guest safely out of the market, the sun was nearly set.

She took a water flask from her adopted daughter and took a sip to moisten her cracked lips. Steeling herself, she walked to the side of the spectating little Princess and sighed from the bottom of her heart: “Highness, it’s all thanks to you today…”

There was an unspeakable bitterness in her heart. If the Princess hadn’t run to the legion and burst the bubble, Scar-eye might have died in this chaos. But then again… she thought weakly: if the Princess hadn’t been here, she might have been able to suppress the rebellion herself and paint it as a mere “disturbance.”

Now it was all over. Anything involving the Royal Family was a 100% assassination attempt plus rebellion. Sigh, she didn’t know how many layers of skin the Royal Family would peel off her.

Eleanor met her with a beaming smile, without any airs. “Be at ease, I will explain to Mother for you. It’s just a small matter.”

Small matter? Scar-eye felt a surge of joy. Did the merciful Princess not know how big of a deal this was? She looked up and saw Eleanor’s half-smile, and heard calm words.

“However, since you failed to manage those people, there is still some fault… so, leave them to me to handle.”

The Princess was proactively asking for her Hyena Legion; she might even have to include some expensive “gifts.” Scar-eye felt a pain in her chest but didn’t dare to argue. Since this had happened, she couldn’t keep her legion anyway. The only difference was whether her head stayed on her neck.

Scar-eye’s heart pounded. Her intuition told her the Princess wasn’t finished… she hadn’t reached the bottom price yet!

Sure enough, the Highness’s next words made her heart sink. The girl who had just turned ten distorted the surrounding atmosphere at this moment, pressing down low like a storm.

“You’ve managed your businesses quite well.”

Here it comes. Worthy of a Princess; she’s naturally better at opening a massive mouth than those city-state lords. Scar-eye felt like she had returned to the distant past, becoming that little merchant who shed tears while clenching her fists. The only difference was that she was no longer young and wouldn’t clench her fists anymore.

Scar-eye bowed her head submissively and said: “If you like them, I am willing.”

“I like them very much I think we can cooperate.” The little Princess changed the subject, cutting off her offer of voluntary sacrifice.

Cooperate? Scar-eye was slightly surprised, thinking inwardly that this was likely a superior’s way of phrasing things; the Princess wanted to eat meat more elegantly than others. But… was it really necessary for her to hide her demands after an assassination attempt? As long as the Princess acted spoiled with the King of Nolanna, what means could a merchant like her have to resist?

There was a glint of hope in Scar-eye’s one eye. Under her focused gaze, Eleanor pulled a bound parchment scroll from her bosom and handed it solemnly to Scar-eye.

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