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

Looking back at the previous story, Lin Huilian’s ending.

In the battle, Lin Huilian danced like a fluttering butterfly, the sword in her hand gleaming with cold light, slicing beautiful yet deadly arcs through the air. She swung her sword with all her might, attempting to deflect the rain of arrows and protect herself from harm. However, despite her agility and exceptional skill, she was ultimately unable to withstand the overwhelming onslaught. Just then, a razor-sharp arrow streaked from behind her like lightning. She had no time to react, only to watch helplessly as it bore down on her. As the arrow struck her, a wave of excruciating pain shot through her body, nearly unbearable. Like a demon's fang, the arrow pierced her body mercilessly, inflicting endless pain and torment. The arrowhead pierced her back with piercing force, tearing through her skin and flesh mercilessly. Then, it continued its advance, finally piercing her navel, leaving a trail of crimson blood. This string of blood blossomed in the air, like a blood flower blooming in the darkness, appearing particularly poignant and desolate. Lin Huilian's eyes widened, and a large amount of blood foam gushed out of her mouth, like a blood flower blooming in the darkness. Her eyes were filled with despair and pain, and her once bright eyes were now dim. Her body trembled violently, like a candle in the wind, ready to go out at any moment. Every breath was accompanied by a piercing pain, making it almost unbearable. She tried to stay awake, but the world before her eyes gradually blurred, and she felt her life slipping away bit by bit.

At this crucial moment, two more arrows flew in like lightning, carrying a fierce momentum. One on the left, the other on the right, hitting Lin Huilian's towering breasts and soft nipples squarely. Like two razor-sharp daggers, the two arrows easily pierced her tough leather armor and pierced deeply into her delicate skin. Blood gushed out like a fountain, instantly staining her leather armor red, forming a shocking bloodstain.

Lin Huilian's face instantly turned pale, her eyes wide with disbelief and agony. She clutched her chest tightly, trying to staunch the bleeding, but it was too late. Her body began to tremble, as if losing all strength, and she slowly collapsed to the ground. She let out a shrill scream, a cry like the wail of a night owl, piercing the night sky and echoing in the air. That cry contained endless pain, despair, and unwillingness, a ruthless indictment of fate, heartbreaking to hear.

Lin Huilian's body lost its support, as if all its strength had been drained away, and she fell helplessly from the horse's back. Like a kite with its string cut, her body slammed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust. Her face was as pale as paper, devoid of any color, and her lips had turned a pale blue. Her once beautiful features were now distorted and hideous. She clutched the ground with both hands, struggling to stand, but the excruciating pain in her body prevented her from moving even a little.

Blood gushed continuously from her wounds, forming a shocking pool that stained the surrounding ground crimson. Her long, beautiful legs twitched incessantly, stirring pity and sorrow. Her breathing grew increasingly faint, like a candle in the wind, ready to go out at any moment. Her eyes were wide and round, filled with shock and resentment, as if she refused to believe that this was her fate.

No one could have imagined that the young general, who had just spread her wings like a young phoenix, would end up in such a miserable way.

Her beautiful eyes, once as bright as stars, were now wide open, revealing endless pain and unwillingness. Deep within them, it seemed as if a flame was burning, yet it was swallowed by endless darkness.

Her mouth parted slightly, blood gushing out like a fountain, staining her leather armor and white robes red. Each drop of blood felt like the ebbing of her life, dripping onto the cold ground with a crisp, heartbreaking sound. Her lips, devoid of their original color, were as pale as winter snowflakes, trembling slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but was powerless to utter a sound.

Her body trembled slightly, like a candle in the wind, ready to go out at any moment. Her skin, once as white as goat fat, was now stained with blood, appearing particularly hideous. The bloodstains crisscrossed her face like a hideous spider web, completely tearing apart her beauty.

Her hair draped across her shoulders, tangled with blood, creating a poignant scene. The strands were silky soft, yet frozen in blood, appearing stiff and fragile. The ornate headdress she once wore had fallen during the battle, leaving only a few messy strands drifting in the wind.

In her hand, she clutched the longsword that had accompanied her on the battlefield. Its blade gleamed with a cold light, yet it couldn't conceal the desolation she felt at the moment. Her fingers gripped the hilt tightly, as if grasping at a last glimmer of hope, yet she felt powerless to change the course of fate.

A strong smell of blood permeated her body, the scent of death. On this bloody battlefield, she was like a lone phoenix, enduring endless pain and torture alone.

Her breaths were as weak as a gossamer thread. Each exhale seemed to exhaust all her strength, while the inhale seemed to be strangled by an invisible hand, making it difficult to breathe in. Her face was as pale as winter frost, devoid of any color, like a blank sheet of paper devoid of life. Her lips, once delicate and voluptuous, like the alluring beauty of cherries, now became dull and lifeless, as if all the vitality had been drained away.

Her body trembled uncontrollably, each tremor a final struggle against death. She struggled to stand, but her legs felt like they were weighed down by a thousand-pound weight, unable to move. Her eyes were filled with a haze of despair and helplessness, a mixture of fear of death and helplessness about life. Her gaze seemed to transcend time and space, gazing upon her own impending demise, yet powerless to change it.

Her fingers clutched the hem of her clothes, as if clinging to a last shred of hope, but it slipped from her fingers like quicksand. A faint sob emanated from her throat, a longing for life and a reluctance to let go, a complaint against the injustice of fate. Her plight was heartbreaking, as if the entire world were weeping for her.

The people around watched this scene silently, their hearts filled with sorrow and regret. They couldn't believe that this young general, who was once so high-spirited and brave, could now be so fragile and helpless.