Li Qingyuan turned his back to the crowd, and most people did not clearly see what happened.

However, Lu Qinghuai, who had spent years on the battlefield, could easily understand.

Before the third lash landed, he already knew that Li Qingyuan intended to surrender.

Yet, the ruthless and calculating Zhong Qinbo didn’t stop at all.

The third lash struck, nearly rendering Li Qingyuan unconscious.

“This Zhong Qinbo strikes with venomous precision,” Lu Qinghuai muttered, his face darkening.

It wouldn’t be fair to say that Zhongqin Bo intended to kill.

After all, to beat someone to death with that barbed whip would take significant effort.

But the whip, covered in jagged spikes, inflicted excruciating pain on its victims, making their suffering unbearable.

In combat, Lu Qinghuai despised this kind of method the most.

There were many ways to win a fight—there was no need to draw out the process to torment the opponent deliberately.

However, some people thrived on such tactics.

For them, the smell of blood and the cries of pain were sources of excitement.

“Good!” Wu Anhou clapped his hands, his face filled with excitement. “What skill!”

“I never knew Zhong Qinbo possessed such extraordinary abilities! Truly exhilarating!”

The martial generals accompanying him reacted similarly, sharing his enthusiasm.

Below, Li Qingyuan was at his limit.

Another lash, and he would undoubtedly collapse into unconsciousness from the pain.

Zhang Yulin grew anxious and was about to speak up to declare surrender on Li Qingyuan’s behalf.

But before he could, Zhong Qinbo stopped his assault.

Like before, Zhong Qinbo almost gently helped Li Qingyuan to his feet.

Yet, Li Qingyuan was gravely injured and couldn’t even rise, needing two palace servants to carry him off the stage.

Only after seeing the imperial physicians attend to Li Qingyuan did Zhong Qinbo ascend to the hall to beg for the Emperor’s forgiveness.

“Your Majesty, I acted rashly and injured Officer Li. I accept any punishment Your Majesty sees fit.”

Before the Emperor could respond, Wu Anhou interjected, “What’s there to punish? Injuries and bloodshed are common in the arena. If he didn’t surrender, then he deserved it.”

Since Li Qingyuan had not explicitly declared surrender, none of the other generals could argue against Wu Anhou’s words.

The Grand General of the Empire cast a deep glance at Wu Anhou.

Wu Anhou’s faction was as brazen as ever.

From the match just now, there were no faults to be found in Zhongqin Bo’s actions.

After all, not everyone possessed Lu Qinghuai’s sharp intuition to discern Li Qingyuan’s intent to surrender.

Even Lu Qinghuai couldn’t use his intuition as evidence.

Li Qingyuan was a well-respected man, and many soldiers from the northern garrison had benefited from his guidance. Seeing him so severely injured, the crowd grew furious.

Zhang Yulin, his face ashen, felt deeply unsettled.

He had allowed Li Qingyuan to participate, and now that Li Qingyuan had been carried off the field, guilt weighed heavily on him.

Just as he was about to stand, the voice of Wen Yuesheng suddenly interrupted.

“Next match, I’ll face you.”

Her words stunned everyone in the northern garrison and beyond.

Even Prince Weiyang was shocked. “Are you really going to step in?”

All eyes turned to Wen Yuesheng, including Zhong Qinbo’s.

His dark, sinister gaze locked onto hers.

After a brief pause, he chuckled. “If you lose, Princess, don’t cry.”

Though he spoke in jest, his eyes carried no trace of humor, and a closer look revealed a chilling malice.

Zhong Qinbo had won two consecutive matches, and each opponent had suffered severe injuries.

Wen Yuesheng stepping forward now caused many to frown.

It wasn’t that they doubted her ability, but considering Zhongqin Bo’s brutal methods, they worried about Wen Yuesheng—a delicate beauty—being injured or worse.

Xiao Jin furrowed his brows, about to call her back.

But before he could, Wen Yuesheng had already stepped onto the arena.

His expression darkened as he stared at the scene, tense and uneasy.

Sitting beside him, Wen Yurou whispered, her face filled with worry, “Your Highness, that spiked whip is terrifying. Will my sister be hurt?”

Her concern seemed genuine, devoid of any animosity toward Wen Yuesheng.

Xiao Jin remained silent, but his expression grew even graver.

Today’s tournament had taken an unexpected turn.

Princess Sining herself was stepping into the arena to face Zhong Qinbo of the Imperial Guard.

Wielding her golden imperial token, Wen Yuesheng had foreseen this day. Zhong Qinbo, though a noble with a title, rarely participated in matches.

For him to personally face Wen Yuesheng raised questions.

Was it a fight for power or pride?

Everyone in the hall held their breath as their eyes turned to the arena.

Before the match began, someone murmured, “I wonder how skilled the Princess is. She’s still a woman—what if she gets hurt today?”

Wu Anhou sneered, “A woman, yes, but also a general of the Four Guards Army. If she doesn’t even dare to step onto the arena, she doesn’t deserve the position.”

His words implied that Wen Yuesheng needed to prove her worth through strength, especially to gain the respect of the western and eastern guards under Zhongqin Bo’s command.

Under the weight of the crowd’s anticipation, Wen Yuesheng stepped onto the stage.

As she did, someone exclaimed, “Where’s the Princess’s weapon?”

Was she intending to fight Zhong Qinbo barehanded?

This seemed either recklessly confident or overly arrogant.

Even Zhong Qinbo, upon noticing her holding only a string of prayer beads, hesitated briefly before laughing coldly.

Without saying a word, he swung his spiked whip directly toward Wen Yuesheng’s face with lethal force.

The whip sliced through the air with a terrifying crack, making onlookers wince in fear.

Many closed their eyes, unable to watch.

Even seasoned warriors like Lu Hongying held their breath.

But just as the deadly whip was about to mar Wen Yuesheng’s face, it suddenly stopped.

The hall fell silent.

Everyone turned to see Wen Yuesheng gripping the whip mid-air.

Her hand, delicate and fair, seemed too fragile for such a feat.

Yet, she held the whip steady, its deadly momentum completely neutralized.

Not even a red mark appeared on her hand.

The crowd was stunned.

Even Zhong Qinbo’s expression darkened, disbelief flashing in his eyes.

He tried to pull the whip back, but it wouldn’t budge.

It felt as though her grip was as unyielding as a mountain.

“You don’t like hearing people surrender?” Wen Yuesheng’s voice was icy, her gaze devoid of emotion. “Good. Neither do I.”

Before Zhong Qinbo could respond, Wen Yuesheng yanked the whip from his grasp, the barbs tearing into his palm.

With a sharp crack, she lashed the whip across his back.

“Ah!” Zhongqin Bo screamed in agony, nearly collapsing from the pain.

But it wasn’t over.

The second lash struck his arm, the force nearly rendering it useless.

Pain and humiliation filled his bloodshot eyes. “You…”

Before he could finish, Wen Yuesheng delivered a third strike, sending him to the brink of unconsciousness.

Standing over him, whip in hand, she coldly asked, “Surrender now?”

Zhong Qinbo opened his mouth, but before he could speak, she cracked the whip again.

Overwhelmed by excruciating pain, he fell into darkness, her final words ringing in his ears:

“Speak louder. I can’t hear you.”

Wen Yuesheng raised her gaze and glanced at him.

The man paused slightly under her cold stare before speaking, “The commander of the Guard Army, Zhong Qinbo, has already been defeated.”

“The commander of the Palace Guards is also someone else now.”

What he said was true.

Although everyone knew that Marquis Wu’an held the reins of power, the commanders of these two forces had always been younger officers.

This was also one of Marquis Wu’an’s strategies; otherwise, he wouldn’t have so many soldiers loyal to him.

However, before Wen Yuesheng could say a word, they had already spoken first.

Prince Wei Yangwang chuckled lightly and said, “So, what you’re implying is that Si Ning shouldn’t choose Marquis Wu’an, correct?”

The general hesitated for a moment but ultimately nodded, “…That’s the gist of it.”

Everyone understood the implications, but why spell it out explicitly?

Not only did Prince Wei Yangwang say it outright, but he also added, “We haven’t even started choosing yet, and you’re already scared? Didn’t Marquis Wu’an once say that soldiers can die on the battlefield but must never fear? Did I remember that wrong?”

Marquis Wu’an’s expression darkened, and he looked up at Prince Wei Yangwang.

Due to past grievances over the matter of the Palace Guards’ leadership, there was animosity between Marquis Wu’an and Prince Weiyang.

Prince Wei Yangwang, known for his bluntness, now spoke with unrelenting directness, seemingly intent on trampling Marquis Wu’an’s dignity into the ground.

“Third Brother, you exaggerate,” said Prince Jingkang suddenly, breaking the tense silence.

Since recovering from his illness, Prince Jingkang no longer stayed hidden but instead often appeared by the Emperor’s side.

This change annoyed Prince Wei Yangwang, who found his second brother just as insufferable as their eldest brother.

“Marquis Wu’an is already old and past the age for duels. This isn’t a sign of weakness. Heroes grow old, and beauty fades—don’t you understand this truth?” Prince Jingkang remarked, his pale complexion accentuating his shadowy demeanor, possibly due to his years away from sunlight. Yet his dark, piercing eyes seemed to bore into others.

Prince Wei Yangwang countered, “When Marquis Wu’an claimed valor earlier, he didn’t mention being fifty-five.”

“Or is it that he only enjoys watching others take a beating?”

Nearby, officials exchanged murmurs in hushed tones.

“This is said to be a martial competition, but it’s actually a power struggle. The Guard Army’s official commander has been defeated, and Marquis Wu’an isn’t the commander either. Choosing him now would be inappropriate.”

“Marquis Wu’an is indeed older and not as physically capable as before. Fighting him won’t have much of a deterrent effect.”

“Then who should be chosen? It can’t be one of his own men, surely.”

“Enough,” the Emperor interrupted impatiently, cutting through the commotion. He looked directly at Wen Yuesheng and declared, “Si Ning, you choose.”

The Emperor’s sharp gaze fell on Wen Yuesheng in the center of the hall.

Wen Yuesheng lifted her head, her voice calm and indifferent as she announced, “Then I choose Prince Yong’an.”

The hall fell utterly silent.

Prince Wei Yangwang couldn’t believe his ears.

He turned abruptly, ignoring his argument with Prince Jingkang, and loudly asked the person beside him, “Did she just say who I think she said?!”

Prince Wei Yangwang’s attendant, despite inward exasperation, dutifully replied, “Yes, my lord. The princess said Prince Yong’an.”

Prince Wei Yangwang slapped his thigh with excitement, his face flushed red. “Excellent!”

Not just excellent—this was beyond his wildest expectations.

He had made the suggestion offhandedly, never imagining he’d witness such a spectacular turn of events today.

Two people once engaged, now facing off in direct combat.

Prince Yong’an, who had recently been entangled with numerous women, had even been seen sitting beside Wei Lanzhi during the earlier matches.

Prince Wei Yangwang, watching from afar, had privately marveled at his younger brother’s audacity and indulgence.

And now, the situation had taken such a dramatic turn.

The Empress had planned to leverage recent events to bolster Xiao Jin’s military authority, but Wen Yuesheng decisively chose Xiao Jin as her opponent instead.

There was just one concern.

Prince Wei Yangwang declared, “Xiao Jin must not lose this match.”

If he lost, this golden opportunity would be wasted.

Moreover, should anyone revisit the topic of Wen Yuesheng and Xiao Jin in the future, the most memorable event wouldn’t be the beautifully written breakup letter but this very duel.

This thought only made Prince Weiyang more exhilarated.

His eyes gleamed as he fixed his gaze on Xiao Jin.

The hall grew quiet as Xiao Jin and the Empress exchanged glances of surprise.

Especially Xiao Jin—his expression shifted several times.

The feud between Wen Yuesheng and Prince Yong’an’s faction was no secret, and now the Empress sought to elevate Prince Yong’an through Wen Yuesheng’s prominence.

To further complicate matters, her younger sister, who had broken the original engagement, now brazenly sat beside Prince Yong’an.

The spectacle was as bizarre as it was striking.

Rumors had circulated that the Duke of Zhen’s household wanted to mend ties with Princess Si Ning, even hinting that the title of Princess Yong’an was hers if she wanted it.

Though this wasn’t publicly acknowledged, those in the know had heard whispers.

Xiao Jin, recently distant from the previously favored younger Wen sister, only added fuel to such speculation. Many believed reconciliation might indeed be possible.

After all, it had been Wen Yuesheng who had initially sought the engagement.

The Empress’s faction hadn’t responded until they gifted the phoenix crown to Wen Yuruo, prompting Wen Yuesheng to call off the marriage.

Now, with Wen Yuesheng in power and the Prince Heng Guang deposed, Prince Yong’an held the greatest public support among potential heirs.

Though uncertain, his claim to the throne loomed large.

If the Duke of Zhen’s household wished to align with Wen Yuesheng by restoring the engagement, it seemed reasonable, even beneficial.

For Wen Yuesheng, it offered a viable path forward.

After all, many still believed that, no matter how powerful a woman became, her ultimate path would be marriage.

Yet Wen Yuesheng’s choice to duel Xiao Jin not only defied these expectations but also ensured that, should she win, any possibility of reconciliation would be obliterated.

Her victory would symbolically destroy the Empress and Xiao Jin’s bid for authority—a match after such humiliation seemed inconceivable.

Even Wen Yuruo, her sister, was momentarily stunned, glancing at Wen Yuesheng before murmuring, “Sister, are you doing this because of me…?”

“You overestimate yourself,” came the cutting reply—not from Wen Yuesheng, but from Lu Qinghuai.

Lu Qinghuai smiled faintly and said, “This concerns the military drill competition, something far removed from the petty romances of Second Miss Wen.”

“Each point earned here represents the soldiers’ blood, sweat, and dedication. Is that not more significant than anything else?”

The hall was deathly quiet.

Lu Qinghuai’s sharp criticism, directed at Wen Yuruo, shocked everyone.