The Bad Girl's Quick Transmigration System: Traveling Back and Forth

When the first ray of dawn struggled to penetrate the thick haze and fell on this city that had been baptized by war, a tragic scene appeared before everyone's eyes - Bishan's naked body was hung high on the city wall, like a bloody sculpture, stinging the eyes of every German and Roman female soldier under the city on Sunday.

The flags on the city walls fluttered wildly in the wind, making a sharp, piercing sound, like the mournful sobbing of heaven and earth, as if expressing indignation for her tragic fate. The wrinkles on the flags, like scars carved by time, witnessed the prosperity of this city and the war it faced today.

Bisanne, the once feared female general, now stood in such humiliating form, exposed in a town surrounded by Gallic troops and Spanish nobles. Her body was pale and cold, crisscrossed with horrifying scars, the cruel legacy of war. Her tousled golden hair fluttered in the wind, obscuring her once resolute and beautiful face.

At the foot of the city wall, the people gathered like a tide. There was a brief silence, a silence filled with shock and anger, as if the entire world had frozen in that moment. Then, like a surging tide, the curses came crashing down, unleashing long-suppressed hatred and pain.

"Invaders, you deserve to die!" an angry man roared, his eyes burning with hatred, as if he wanted to burn the invader, Bishan, to ashes. His voice was like thunder, echoing in the air and resonating with the surrounding people.

"It was she who turned our home into ruins!" an elderly woman cried tearfully, her voice filled with pain and despair, as if every word was laced with blood and tears. Her eyes revealed deep resentment as she stared at Bishan, as if she wanted to devour her alive.

"Damn invaders! You've ruined our lives!" a young woman screamed, her face filled with anger and sadness. She held a stone tightly in her hand, ready to throw it at Bishan at any moment.

"You demons will never be forgiven!" an old man trembled, his voice filled with endless anger and contempt. His eyes were filled with hatred for the invaders, as if he wanted to tear their souls apart.

"Bishan, you shameless woman! You will pay for what you have done!" A young man shouted angrily, his voice full of justice and courage. He clenched his fists, ready to avenge his homeland and relatives.

A cacophony of insults erupted from the crowd, using all sorts of vicious language to attack Bishan. "Bastard!" "Beast!" "Death!" These insults were like a torrent, drowning the entire city, expressing the people's deep hatred for the invaders.

Yet, beneath the clamor of anger and hatred, some were lost in thought. A young scholar stood quietly in the crowd, his brow furrowed, his eyes revealing a hint of confusion and compassion. He gazed at Bishan on the city wall, a mixture of emotions welling up in his heart. He understood that the cruelty of war had claimed countless lives, both invaders and victims becoming casualties. Perhaps Bishan, once a woman with dreams and convictions, had, through a twist of fate, become a pawn in this war.

At that moment, the city gates slowly opened, and the enemy general emerged, mounted on a majestic warhorse. He wore black armor, the red tassel on his helmet fluttering in the wind, a smug smile on his face. He reined in the reins and stopped at the foot of the city wall, his gaze brimming with disdain and arrogance as he scanned the surrounding civilians.

"Look! This is what happens when you're against us!" the enemy general shouted, his voice echoing in the air. His voice was filled with majesty and confidence, trying to use Bishan's death to boost the confidence of his army and the people.

Just as the situation reached a critical juncture, a sudden, dull rumble of thunder echoed from the sky. Dark clouds quickly gathered, obscuring the faint sunlight. Raindrops as large as beans began to fall, pelting the people's faces like tears from heaven. The people looked up at the sky, as if seeking some solace.

On the city wall, Bishan's naked body looked even more desolate in the rain. The rain washed away the blood on her body, but it could not wash away the pain left by war. The people stood silently in the rain, their hearts filled with hatred for the enemy and a longing for peace. They knew that the war was not over and the road ahead was long, but they would persevere, for this city, for their home, and for the peace that was just out of reach.

The rain continued to fall, as if telling the story of the city's sorrow and hope. The Bishan on the city wall became an indelible tragic symbol of the war, warning future generations of the cruelty and ruthlessness of war.

"It was she who turned our home into ruins!" an old woman cried tearfully, her voice trembling in the wind, filled with pain and despair. Then, she bent down, picked up a stone, and threw it hard at Bishan on the wall. The stone arced in the air and hit Bishan hard.

Seeing this, others followed suit, hurling rocks and debris at Bishan's naked body like a rain of stones. Each impact felt like a sharp blade, piercing the hearts of those with a conscience. Yet, few knew that Bishan was fighting for her beliefs and to protect her loved ones. She, too, longed for peace, but fate had dragged her into this cruel vortex of war.

Amidst the chorus of abuse and attacks, Bishan hung silently on the city wall like a sculpture eroded by time. Her long golden hair, cascading like a waterfall, fluttered in the wind like a startled butterfly, as if narrating the endless grievances and sorrow within her heart.

Once, she was a valiant warrior in the eyes of the masses, clad in golden armor, wielding a spear, galloping across the battlefield, invincible. Her name, like a brilliant star, illuminated the sky across the nation. Yet, now, she was like an abandoned orphan, hanging alone on this cold city wall, subjected to the spit and insults of the masses that poured down upon her like a tide.

The glory and honor of the past vanished like a shooting star in the night sky, leaving behind only this cold, despised, naked corpse, gradually losing its warmth in the fierce wind. Her skin, once as smooth and soft as white jade, had now been ravaged by the cold wind, losing its luster and becoming pale and fragile.

The sun gradually sank, like a weary heart, slowly sinking into the embrace of the horizon. Its afterglow, like blood, shone on the city walls, dyeing Bishan's figure a shocking crimson. That was the color of war, the color of cruelty, and the color of a hero's end.

The flags on the city walls still fluttered in the wind, as if singing an eternal elegy for the tragic fate of this heroic woman. Every wave of the flag seemed to tell the world her story, her glory, her injustice, and her unspeakable sorrow.

Perhaps, in the eyes of that general, Bishan was merely a seductress, bewitching the people with her sorcery; in his world, only force reigned supreme. But he didn't know that Bishan's strength came not from deviant means but from her deep-seated love for her country and her protection of her people. She shouldered heavy responsibilities with her fragile body, becoming a unique and dazzling light in this war-torn era.

Time flows on, the years flowing endlessly like a river. The naked corpse hanging from the city wall, like a sculpture forgotten by time, quietly bears witness to the passage of time. As time passes, weathered by wind and rain, the corpse gradually loses its original shape, turning to dust and merging into the embrace of the earth.

However, Bishan's story is like a shining pearl, shining eternally on this land. Her courage and faith, like the brightest star in the night sky, illuminate the way forward for people.

Perhaps one day in the future, when people talk about this period of history again, they will be moved by Bishan's experience and sigh deeply. They will imagine her pain and despair and feel her unyielding spirit in the face of adversity.