Atop the magnificent steed, the handsome man and beautiful woman together made, without question, the most stunning sight on the entire hunting grounds!

Not everyone could sit astride Prince Yao’s treasured Blood-Sweating Horse—and certainly not everyone could nestle so comfortably within Prince Yao’s embrace, either.

Watching Jun Beiyue and Ziqing approach slowly, Chu Feiyan’s malicious eyes narrowed nearly to slits, wishing she could loose a single arrow and shoot Han Ziqing right out of that man’s arms.

Ziqing lay languidly nestled against him, and even as she made the most of this brief moment to rest, her sharp eyes never once missed the slightest movement ahead.

Earlier, in the darkness of the tent, Jun Beiyue had demonstrated the incense-shooting technique to her only once—the first time she had ever watched him draw a bow and loose an arrow. She had to admit, it left her genuinely stunned; she had never known archery could be performed with such astonishing precision.

A man of such extraordinary skill—had he been born in Western Chu, the continent of Longyuan might already belong entirely to Western Chu. What a pity he had been born in Da Zhou instead.

After she finished practicing, Consort Yi had sent word that the contest rules had changed, requiring riding and archery to be combined. Ziqing immediately caught the scent of a scheme at work, half-expecting Jun Beiyue to say something about it.

But he said nothing at all, did nothing at all—simply let her rest briefly before bringing her along.

Physician Gu had applied some pain-relieving medicine, though its effect was practically negligible. Now, every single step sent a fresh wave of agony through her, each one a piercing, bone-deep pain!

If she had to ride at a full gallop again, it would be absolutely impossible!

And yet, the contest course still stretched a full five li—only now, without the earlier obstacles, circling once around the camp before returning to the starting point, where two thin incense sticks now hung suspended upside down.

The rules were simple: whoever returned to the starting point first would win—but before reaching it, the archer had to extinguish the incense flame without breaking the thread it hung from!

Incense-shooting was typically performed at a distance of three to five zhang—roughly three to five men’s heights. With such a short incense stick, and strong winds sweeping across the grasslands, not only would the flickering flame be difficult to aim at, but the stronger the wind, the faster the incense would burn—and the shorter the incense, the easier it would be to accidentally sever the thread!

A five-li distance still required time, no matter how fast one rode!

This was, fundamentally, a test of accuracy layered on top of a test of speed!

What was she going to do?

The two of them soon arrived. Jun Beiyue lifted her down from the horse, simply patting her shoulder, still offering no instructions of any kind.

Had she successfully fooled him, or had she genuinely infuriated him?

Ziqing had no time to dwell on it further. Enduring the pain, she bowed to Emperor Tianhui, then, ignoring the eyes fixed on her from all directions, silently gazed at the Blood-Sweating Horse, seemingly deep in thought.

“Ha, I trust the rules are clear to everyone. It’s getting late, so I won’t waste any more words—let’s begin!” Emperor Tianhui said with a smile, just as eager as everyone else to see the two women compete, curious how it would all play out.

“Very well!” Chu Feiyan immediately leapt onto her horse, more impatient than even the spectators.

Ziqing, however, showed no such urgency, gazing at the Blood-Sweating Horse as though no one else existed. At first, the horse playfully blinked at her, nuzzling its long face against her—but before long, it seemed to sense the depth of her seriousness, growing still and solemn in turn.

The crowd watched in confusion—what exactly was Han Ziqing doing?

“Are you competing or not? If not, just admit defeat already!” Chu Feiyan said impatiently, having been the first to arrive and wait, and having waited quite a while now.

Ziqing paid her no attention whatsoever, gently cradling the Blood-Sweating Horse’s face against her own, murmuring softly, “Blood-Sweat, do me proud. My life is in your hands now.”

The moment the words left her lips, the Blood-Sweating Horse seemed to understand perfectly, letting out a sudden, sharp neigh that pierced through the silence of the night!

The crowd was utterly astonished, and even Chu Feiyan felt an inexplicable flicker of unease, unable to guess what exactly Han Ziqing intended to do. Only Jun Beiyue sat off to the side with an unreadable expression, legs crossed lazily, radiating an air of indolent, commanding confidence.