The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 66: She’s Just A Harmless Woman

"Bubu, this is not funny! I need a way out!"

[Calculating escape routes...]

"No! Just give me wings or something!"

[That is not possible.]

"Then you’re USELESS!"

The warriors were gaining on her.

Branches snapped behind her. Heavy footfalls shook the ground. She could hear them breathing, hear their weapons shifting in their grips—

Then—a blur of movement.

She skidded to a halt.

Surrounded.

Six warriors encircled her. Each one towering over her, their expressions unreadable, but their weapons? Not so much.

"Well..." Isabella swallowed, forcing a shaky smile. "I don’t suppose we can talk this out?"

But then she noticed something.

Isabella’s grip tightened around the small, trembling creature in her arms. They wanted it.

Their eyes weren’t on her—they were locked onto the tiny thing in her grasp, hungry, expectant.

No.

Her stance shifted slightly, her body curling protectively around the animal. She hadn’t fought this hard just to hand it over.

One of the warriors let out a chuckle. "Look at her. Does she really think she can keep it from us?"

Another laughed. "She’s just a woman. What’s she gonna do? Bite us?"

The rest erupted in amusement, their deep voices echoing through the night.

Isabella didn’t react. She let them talk. She wasn’t stupid. Let them think she was helpless. Let them lower their guard.

But one of them wasn’t laughing. A warrior with a deep scar running down his chest narrowed his eyes. "That’s the woman who killed Gorvak."

The laughter stopped.

They all turned back to her.

Isabella smiled, slow and deliberate. "And I’ll kill every single one of you if you don’t leave."

Silence.

Then—one of them scoffed. "Please. You can’t take six of us."

Isabella raised an eyebrow. "I couldn’t take Gorvak either, right?"

They hesitated.

She sighed. "You should have run the moment you saw his corpse. Now? I have to kill you."

Because there was no way she was going to let them live, and have them come back for her in the future?, no no she wasn’t stupid.

She let the small creature down in a safe position, whispering, "Stay," before reaching into her space and pulling out her fan.

The moment it snapped open, their expressions changed.

A strange artifact?, first of all how did she do that?

She could see their confusion on what type of strange thing that was. But they were more Focused on snatching her pet to care.

They almost laughed again.

Until they noticed the faint glow in the engravings.

"That’s not normal," one of them muttered.

No, it wasn’t.

Isabella tilted her head. "Which of you would like to die first?"

They charged.

She moved.

Her feet slid smoothly over the dirt, dodging the first attack as she flicked her wrist, sending out a sharp wind slash.

It cut clean across a warrior’s arm, making him stagger back with a snarl.

She grinned. "Cute, right?"

Another lunged.

She twisted, graceful, fast, precise, her movements weaving between them like a deadly dance.

Her fan snapped shut—she slammed the blunt edge into the side of one warrior’s skull, then whipped it open again, sending another wind slash at the one reaching for her back.

Blood sprayed.

A body hit the ground.

Five left.

"Surround her!"

They rushed in at once.

She didn’t stop moving.

A blade whizzed past her cheek—she ducked, swept her leg out, tripping one, then fanned her weapon in a full arc.

Gale Mode.

A powerful gust exploded outward, sending two warriors staggering back.

Another one was behind her.

She felt it.

Pivoting on her heel, she flipped her fan shut and stabbed it backward.

It slid into flesh.

A sharp gasp—then silence.

She pulled it free as the body collapsed.

Four left.

Her breath came in fast, but her movements remained fluid.

One stepped forward cautiously. "She doesn’t know how to use it properly yet. Just wear her down."

A smart one.

Too bad she was getting better by the second.

Another came from behind—she sidestepped, twisted her body, and let the fan glide across his throat.

He dropped without a sound.

Three left.

"She’s just one woman!" one of them roared, frustration seeping into his voice. "Kill her!"

They attacked at once.

She dodged, parried, weaved.

One nearly clipped her side.

Her heart pounded.

She wasn’t fast enough yet.

Her body screamed, but she kept moving.

She ducked low, snapped her fan closed, and drove it into another’s chest.

It pierced through like a dagger.

The warrior let out a strangled gasp before falling.

Two left.

One of them hesitated.

She smirked, flipping the fan open with a snap. "Come on. You were talking so much before."

That was enough. He charged.

She met him head-on, sidestepping his sword and twisting her body to sweep the razor-sharp edge of her fan across his midsection.

His body split in two.

The last warrior stood frozen, but something was wrong.

His hands twitched, not from fear—but from decision.

Isabella narrowed her eyes, shifting her stance.

Then, he moved.

His fingers dug into his large side pouch, and before she could react, he yanked something out—

Her small, white animal.

It let out a distressed squeak, its tiny body wriggling in his grasp.

Isabella’s entire posture stiffened.

He saw it.

A grin split across his bloody face. "You don’t want it to die, do you?"

His fingers tightened around the creature’s fragile body.

"You’re fast, I’ll give you that," he sneered, stepping back. "But you care too much. That’s your weakness."

Isabella didn’t speak.

She let her shoulders slump slightly, her fingers twitch, just enough to make it seem like she was hesitating.

Let him think she was scared.

Let him believe he had control.

He took another step back, his confidence growing. "I should kill it. Maybe then you’ll feel what it’s like to lose."

Her lips parted slightly, breath coming out unevenly.

Perfect.

He saw hesitation.

He saw fear.

That meant he wasn’t seeing her.

"You win," Isabella whispered.

He stilled. "...What?"

"You win," she repeated, softer. "Just—don’t hurt it."

He laughed. Actually laughed.

"Pathetic."

She kept her expression weak, her hands subtly raising—like she was surrendering.

He loosened his grip just slightly.

That was his mistake.

Because in the next breath—she moved.

Her fan was already in her right hand, but her left hand snapped up first, fingers flicking a sharp rock off the ground.

It shot straight for his face.

His eyes instinctively followed it.

A distraction.

A miscalculation.

And in that split second—

She was already in front of him.

Her fan snapped open—not for a wind slash, not for a show—

She slammed the metal edge directly into his throat.

A choked sound—his hands spasmed—

The white creature fell.

She was already moving.

Before the animal could hit the ground, she caught it.

Before the warrior could recover, she twisted her fan and sliced cleanly across his neck.

Fast. Efficient. Fatal.

Blood sprayed, his body collapsing.

He never even registered he was dead.

Isabella exhaled slowly, her grip around the tiny creature tightening.

It trembled, nuzzling into her chest.

She let out a small breath, fingers gently stroking its soft fur. "You okay?"

A weak chirp.

She chuckled. "Yeah. Me neither."

She looked down at the corpse.

Then, with a calm, deliberate motion, she flicked her fan closed, brushing off the blood.

"Next time," she murmured, "pick a better last move."