```
Shen Qinghe used the sword scabbard as a shield, trying to block Yan Changsheng's thunderous blow, but at the moment she was just a mortal, and although she evaded a few moves awkwardly, Yan Changsheng's inner strength was profound, and he soon struck her right shoulder.
She staggered back several steps, her vision turning dark, feeling the blood surge within her, unable to refrain from vomiting several mouthfuls of blood.
The Wuya Sword wanted to support Shen Qinghe, but being just a sword, it could only watch helplessly as Shen Qinghe coughed up blood and fainted.
It rubbed its hilt against Shen Qinghe's face; the girl's blood from the corner of her lips adhered to the hilt and meandered down into the blade, vanishing while emitting a faint golden glow...
When Shen Qinghe came to again, she was already back in the bridal chamber; the night had deepened, and the room was quiet, but the internal injuries she had sustained during the day were no longer serious.