The continuously crying Jiang Hao, upon hearing Jiang Shaohua's voice, dared not wail loudly but switched to soft sobbing.
An eight-year-old boy, his height reached around Jiang Shaohua's waist. Nonetheless, Jiang Hao was plump and rounded, quite substantial.
Jiang Shaohua had fought with all her might today, not knowing how many rebels she had killed; her strength was depleted. Holding Jiang Hao was actually quite taxing.
However, she remained composed outwardly, not letting anyone see the slightest hint.
After calming Jiang Hao, her gaze swept around, passing over the corpses of Minister Li and Li Boyuan, brushing past a few other unfortunate souls shot dead, and then the critically wounded Prime Minister Wang and heavily injured General Bao.
As for the few military generals with lighter injuries, at least they were in no immediate fatal danger.
