On the martial arts stage, Wei Huan’s Water Dragon Blade was locked against Wala’s stone axe.

One was a young, simple recruit from the Front Guard of the Central Plains, while the other was a brutal and vicious battlefield veteran from the Western Qiang. Although Wei Huan’s blade techniques were outstanding, he lacked real combat experience. Moreover, his opponent was a warrior who could lift thousands of jin.

Compared to Wei Huan’s agility, Wala’s stone axe was massive and heavy. His strikes seemed without technique, merely brutal chops. The axe appeared clumsy, but with his tremendous strength, when Wei Huan dodged, the axe would strike the ground and split even the stone floor.

Wei Huan’s stamina was gradually failing.

He was young after all, and not as robust as Wala. He couldn’t withstand such direct brutal chopping for long. Besides leaving a single cut on Wala’s face, he couldn’t even get close to his opponent’s body—after all, the man was wearing armor!

This was an unfair fight from the start. Wei Huan’s wounds were increasing, yet Wala didn’t want to kill him outright. Each time he could have struck a fatal blow, he would shift slightly, missing vital points but leaving Wei Huan covered in wounds.

It was like a cat playing with a mouse, not eating it immediately after catching it, but toying with it until it was completely exhausted before swallowing it.

This was nothing but one-sided torture.

Below the stage, Shen Han watched, his fists clenching until they creaked. He moved to step forward but was blocked by Ri Damu Zi.

The vulture-like muscular man leaned against his horse, his smile bloodthirsty. “Instructor, you can’t help.”

Shen Han drew his blade.

“What? You want to fight me too?” Ri Damu Zi smiled, his gaze sinister. “Well, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Around the martial arts stage, Qiang soldiers had deliberately gathered. If any recruits from the Liangzhou Guard tried to help, these Qiang men would engage them, making any assistance too late.

On the stage, Wei Huan’s vision was gradually blurring, his dodges becoming slower and slower. His strength was rapidly draining as he gasped for breath. Unable to dodge in time, Wala’s axe struck his right leg. The pain was excruciating, but he somehow managed to suppress his cry.

Wala walked to his front. Wei Huan had no strength left to run. He watched as Wala looked down at him like a butcher examining a lamb on the chopping block. Wala said, “Tsk, over so quickly? Boring. Central Plains people are so weak, not even worth one finger of the Qiang people.”

Wei Huan remained silent, large drops of sweat mixing with blood on his face, presenting a miserable sight.

“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” Wala licked his lips, his eyes greedily fixed on him. “When this stone axe comes down, your brains will fly out beautifully. Too bad you won’t be able to see it yourself.”

With that, he swung the massive axe, aiming straight for Wei Huan’s head!

“Wei Huan!” Ma Dame cried out involuntarily. Before Wei Huan joined the Front Guard, he had been under Ma Dame’s command, and their bond was deep. He tried to rush forward to save him but was blocked by a Qiang warrior’s drawn sword. Wei Huan’s life seemed about to end.

At this moment.

Behind the martial arts stage stood a lush banyan tree which, despite being winter, showed no signs of withering. With everyone focused on the stage, no one had noticed when someone had taken a seat in the tree.

When they finally noticed, that person shot out like a black lightning bolt, swinging on a cloth tied to the tree like a swing. They released their grip while still in mid-air—everything happened so quickly—they flew toward the performance stage and kicked the axe that was about to split Wei Huan’s head—

Using the momentum, even though Wala was strong, her sidekick sent him stumbling backward. The heavy, sharp axe wounded him instead. If not for his extraordinary strength allowing him to steady himself after two steps back, that stone axe might have cut even deeper.

“He Yan?” Wei Huan mumbled.

The Liangzhou Guard recruits were also stunned.

Everyone knew He Yan had been imprisoned in the Liangzhou Guard’s dungeon because of the White Moon Mountain incident. How did he suddenly appear here? Had he been released?

Wala looked at the person before him.

The black-clad youth stood with hands on hips, tilting their head with a smile, “Sir, you’re being too fierce. If I hadn’t stepped in just now, my brother’s head would have been lost.”

The Liangzhou Guard recruits saw them all as thorns in their sides, and after the massacre of all the sentries, there was a blood feud. They all looked at them with reddened eyes—the best reaction was Wei Huan’s expressionless face. Yet this youth smiled as if nothing had happened. Wala found himself interested as if he’d found new prey.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The black-clad youth brushed aside their messy hair, smiling, “I’m He Yan, recently ranked first in Liangzhou Guard’s flag competition.” She glanced at Wala. “Perhaps you don’t know what flag competition means. No matter, just remember that I’m Liangzhou Guard’s number one.”

“Number one?” Ri Damu Zi below the stage squinted at her, saying, “You?”

He Yan appeared too small and frail. If Wala and Wei Huan standing together were like a robust tiger and a lamb, then He Yan, who looked even weaker than Wei Huan, compared to Wala was like a chick next to an eagle.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late. May I ask what you’re doing?” The youth spoke with a pleasant smile. “If you’re having a martial arts competition, it’s a waste not to find me instead of others.”

Wala burst into laughter: “You’re truly presumptuous!”

“He Yan!” Shen Han called out.

“Chief Instructor Shen,” He Yan looked at him, “I’ve been holding in frustration these past few days with nowhere to vent. A fight would help me release some steam. Please, Chief Instructor, don’t stop me anymore.”

Shen Han had nothing to say.

Ri Damu Zi had come for Liangzhou Guard’s recruits. Since he wouldn’t let the instructors fight, only recruits could participate. Among the recruits, besides He Yan, there weren’t many who could fight him. Those with outstanding skills lacked combat experience, while those with experience were older and couldn’t match young people’s stamina. He Yan had exceptional martial arts skills and was clever and intelligent, giving her a good chance of winning.

Drawing attention to this side of the martial arts stage was good, but more importantly…

He Yan asked, “May I ask if this is a sparring match? If so, can I replace my brother here?”

“You?”

“Yes. I’m Liangzhou Guard’s number one. Defeating me would be much more satisfying than defeating him,” He Yan glanced at Wei Huan on the ground. “Don’t you think?”

The Qiang people below burst into laughter.

Ri Damu Zi looked at her: “I like this person’s attitude! Let him up!”

He Yan said, “Someone please carry this brother away.”

As Wei Huan was being carried away, he looked at He Yan and said softly, “You… be careful.”

He Yan: “I know.”

On the martial arts stage’s platform, only two people remained.

Below, the recruits watched, all worried for He Yan.

Over the past half year, He Yan had shown off on this stage more than once or twice. Some genuinely admired and worshipped her, while others were jealous and disliked her. But at this moment, Liangzhou Guard’s recruits were united in their hatred of the enemy, hoping she could defeat Wala and show those Qiang people what they were made of, let them know that Liangzhou Guard wasn’t to be bullied!

While the recruits below were anxious, He Yan on the stage remained completely relaxed. She smiled and said, “By the way, I don’t know what the stakes are here. Let me suggest this: if I lose, you can do with me as you please, but if you lose,” she remembered the youth in her memory and chuckled mischievously, “you’ll have to call me father.”

At this, Liangzhou Guard’s recruits burst into laughter.

Liang Ping felt both worried and proud: “Still joking at a time like this!”

None of Ri Damu Zi’s men could laugh. Wala glared darkly at He Yan, wiped blood from his lips, and said, “We don’t need stakes. After three rounds, the loser dies, and the winner lives. Those are the rules.”

“A fight to the death?” He Yan asked.

“What, scared?”

“Not really.” He Yan said: “Instructor, throw me a steel whip, a long one!”

Shen Han grabbed the longest steel whip from the top of the weapons rack and threw it over. He Yan caught it smoothly, playing with it in her hands as she looked at Wala: “Is it alright if I use a weapon?”

“Fine.” Wala sneered: “But are you sure you don’t want to switch to a sword? A whip can’t kill.”

The youth’s lips curved slightly: “It’s enough to kill you.”

Before Wala could digest the meaning of her words, he saw the youth suddenly charge forward with the whip. Wala was startled, then burst into laughter, swinging his giant axe to meet the attack.

The youth rushed close but didn’t strike, merely touching down lightly to avoid the axe’s attack, circling to Wala’s back. When Wala turned around and swung his axe, she simply dodged aside again.

She appeared to be attacking but never struck, the whip coiled around her hand, seemingly doing nothing, as if just circling Wala. In an instant, she turned and ran, Wala following. As soon as he lifted his foot, he felt something wrapped around it, losing his balance and falling to one side.

But this giant reacted extremely quickly. Realizing his foot was entangled by He Yan’s whip, he tried to steady himself, but He Yan wouldn’t give him the chance. She put the whip behind her back, like carrying cargo, and pulled hard—

Wala could no longer maintain his balance. His huge, heavy body was stable on two feet, but with one foot off balance, the other foot struggled to stay steady. With He Yan pulling from the other end, he fell to the ground with a “thud.”

The whip appeared only about a person’s length long, yet somehow He Yan managed to pull it from under Wala, and it easily returned to her hand. Without stopping, she rushed to Wala, one hand wrapping around his neck, the whip coiling around his throat.

Wala instinctively tried to pull it away.

He Yan tightened both hands—

Her daily practice of throwing stone locks had built considerable arm strength. The strange warrior wore armor, but his neck had no protection. Ordinary flesh was the most vulnerable spot, as he wasn’t truly made of steel and iron after all.

Everyone at the martial arts ground heard a bone-chilling “crack—”

Wala’s head drooped limply.

“You’re not human, you’re a beast,” He Yan said softly. “That’s why a whip is enough to kill you.”

She raised her head again, and though smiling, her eyes carried a piercing cold as she calmly addressed the crowd below, “He’s dead. I won. The match is decided. Next.”

On the martial arts stage, the situation had suddenly reversed.

Earlier, when Wala had tortured Wei Huan like a cat playing with a mouse, delaying the final strike, he probably never expected to die at the hands of this seemingly frail youth.

How long does it take to kill someone? A cup of tea, an incense stick, or a quarter-hour?

None of those.

Liangzhou Guard’s new recruits knew He Yan was formidable—the scene of her previous match with Huang Xiong Jiao was still fresh in their minds. But the He Yan now seemed different from the one who had “sparred” on the stage before. When these youth put away their playful demeanor, they became cold and frost-like, carrying a murderous aura that none dared to look directly at.

She smiled and said, “The battlefield doesn’t need flashy performances. Once you know how to kill, you can act.” Her gaze fell on Ri Damu Zi.

Ri Damu Zi stared back at her.

Slowly, the Liangzhou recruits below began to react, excitedly shouting, “He Yan won! He Yan killed Wala!”

“Brother He is amazing!” Even while being held, Cheng Li Su couldn’t help cheering for He Yan, “Beat them black and blue!”

Liang Ping and Ma Dame exchanged glances—He Yan’s killing speed was unusually fast, even for a natural prodigy.

“You all,” the youth stood on the high platform, smiling at the Qiang people, “aren’t sore losers, are you? Who’s next?”

Among the Qiang people, no one spoke for the moment.

She smiled again, her smile carrying a hint of provocation, “I understand, betting with one’s life is somewhat frightening. Who would have thought that the fearless Qiang warriors who talk big would have moments when they dare not step onto the stage? But it’s alright—we Central Plains people of Great Wei have always been kindhearted. If you don’t want to continue, just admit defeat. As I said earlier, call me father, and this sparring ends. How about it?”

“But who will call me father?” He Yan stared at Ri Damu Zi: “You’re their leader, why don’t you do it?”

“Outrageous!” A soldier behind Ri Damu Zi stepped forward angrily.

He Yan showed no fear, speaking innocently: “Is that not acceptable either?”

Wang Ba whispered, “How satisfying!”

“She’s deliberately provoking the opponent,” Huang Xiong said gravely. “But in the current situation, there seems to be no need for this.”

He Yan had always been this arrogant and confident. In the past, others attributed it to youthful nature, but now, in this situation, provoking Ri Damu Zi wasn’t wise.

“I’ll fight you.” A voice came from behind Ri Damu Zi. “Commander, Ba Zhu is willing to fight.”

Ri Damu Zi glanced at him, showing no emotion, and simply said: “Go.”

This man Ba Zhu climbed onto the martial arts stage.

Unlike Wala, though Ba Zhu was robust, he wasn’t as enormously huge. He was also older than Wala, around thirty-something. His entire body was wrapped in a black cloak, his head hidden under a hood, showing only half his chin, his features barely visible, giving him a pale and strange appearance, like a ghost. His voice was also hoarse, as if burned by fire, as unpleasant as a crow’s call.

Ba Zhu walked to Wala’s side and, despite being companions, showed no sympathy. He kicked Wala’s corpse off the high platform, cursing, “A thing in the way.”

As Wala’s corpse rolled down, he didn’t even glance at it, only saying to He Yan: “You have old wounds.”

He Yan’s heart sank—this Ba Zhu would be more troublesome than Wala.

Wala was merely a brute with raw strength, inflexible in his ways. Dealing with such people only required identifying and exploiting their weaknesses to end the fight quickly. In any battle, the most fearsome opponents were those with brains, like the one before her now. He could spot his opponent’s weaknesses, which would influence every subsequent move.

He slowly raised his knife. He Yan coiled the iron whip around her hand and charged toward him.

In Wei Huan and Wala’s fight, He Yan had been a spectator, seeing Wala’s weaknesses and shortcomings beforehand, thus able to deal with him quickly and decisively. But this time, Ba Zhu was someone she’d never seen before, while during her fight with Wala, he had observed her.

In other words, Ba Zhu understood He Yan, but He Yan knew nothing about Ba Zhu.

Under his cloak seemed to hide many other things. He Yan remained cautious. This man was also very cunning, avoiding confrontation with He Yan. Having learned from Wala’s example, he maintained his distance. Whenever the whip came at him, Ba Zhu would quickly change direction. His body was much more agile than Wala’s, and for the moment, the iron whip couldn’t get close.

He Yan’s waist had begun to ache.

Earlier in Liangzhou City, she had been injured fighting with Ding Yi. Later, she was tricked into going to White Moon Mountain and fought with someone hiding in the shadows. Several times over, her nearly healed wounds had reopened. That wasn’t all—she was then thrown into Liangzhou Guard’s dungeon. Unlike having Shen Mu Xue bring medicine daily, the cold and damp conditions likely worsened her injuries.

The force used to kill Wala earlier had aggravated her wounds. While manageable for a short time, now fighting Ba Zhu for an extended period, the pain became increasingly bone-deep.

Ba Zhu laughed, “Why do you look unwell? Is it because your old injury is acting up?”

He Yan was startled. Ba Zhu’s curved blade had already entangled her iron whip, pulling her forward. The crowd below gasped as Ba Zhu, his sword entangled, unhesitatingly struck He Yan’s old wound with his free hand.

He Yan took the hit squarely but didn’t stop moving. She released her whip, which caught his face. Though Ba Zhu dodged, it pulled off his hood, revealing his face.

Both stepped back and stood firm.

That palm strike had landed directly on her old wound. He Yan barely managed to swallow the blood in her throat, still wearing a slight smile as she looked at her opponent and mocked, “Tsk, how ugly.”

Without his hood, Ba Zhu’s true face was revealed. Half his face was fine, even handsome, but the other half was burned, pockmarked with dark red scars like centipedes growing on his face, distorting his features.

Someone below screamed in fright.

Having his hood knocked off and his true face exposed, Ba Zhu’s expression turned extremely ugly, his gaze fixed on He Yan as if wanting to eat her flesh and drink her blood.

He Yan smiled, beckoning him with her finger: “Come on!”

Ba Zhu smiled coldly and charged.

As soon as He Yan moved, she knew something was wrong. Ba Zhu’s earlier palm strike hadn’t held back, and now blood had seeped out. Fortunately, she had changed into Lei Hou’s black combat outfit for warmth when she came, so even though she was bleeding, it wasn’t visible. However, she didn’t know how much longer she could hold on like this.

In fact, the sparring on the martial arts stage was never the main point—the point was to use these three matches to buy more time. If no one could withstand the Qiang people’s curved blades, becoming one-sided slaughter, then everything afterward would have no chance.

She had to kill Ba Zhu for there to be a third round.

The Qiang people were skilled with curved blades, each adjusted according to their build and strength. Ba Zhu’s curved blade tended toward agility, making it difficult for He Yan’s iron whip to entangle it.

He Yan’s whip went to entangle Ba Zhu’s legs. Ba Zhu sneered, “Using the same move on two people? How naive!” He dodged around He Yan, his curved blade chopping down at her neck—

Unlike Wala, Ba Zhu went straight for He Yan’s life from the start, without any feints. He Yan held her whip with both hands, blocking Ba Zhu’s curved blade before her eyes. Ba Zhu gave a vicious laugh and fell backward. He Yan couldn’t dodge in time and saw him pull out a dagger from under his cloak with his right hand.

This dagger was only as long as a thumb, thin as paper. Rather than a dagger, it was more like a blade—impossible to see clearly unless up close. His palm shot forward, and to others, it looked like he had simply struck He Yan’s waist, but only He Yan knew that the sharp weapon in his palm had completely sunk into her flesh.

He Yan felt an excruciating pain in her waist and suddenly threw a punch. With Ba Zhu’s face right before her, he sneered, “Does it hurt? If it hurts, you should—”

His words cut off abruptly.

He Yan’s clenched fist pressed against his throat, refusing to let go.

Ba Zhu began struggling frantically, but somehow the iron whip had bound He Yan’s leg to his, leaving him no escape. The more violently he struggled, the more his eyes rolled back, until finally, blood spurted from his mouth, and he gradually stopped moving.

He Yan’s face was expressionless as she pressed her fist harder, and only after confirming the man beneath her had no more breath did she release her grip.

On Ba Zhu’s neck, a small iron object was visible, just a tiny bit—the rest couldn’t be seen, having pierced deep into his throat. It was an iron caltrop.

He Yan had picked it up from the ground when she arrived.

Keeping some hidden weapons on oneself at all times only had benefits, no drawbacks. One never knew what kind of enemies they might encounter, what situations lay ahead, or when they might occur. The only thing to do was to increase the odds of survival.

She couldn’t get close to Ba Zhu because he was already wary of her. The final strike was nothing more than a mutual destruction strategy where both sides would be injured. But she was still better off than Ba Zhu—she was only wounded by the dagger in her old injury, while Ba Zhu was now dead.

“You had your trump card, but did you think I didn’t have mine?” she mumbled.

A moment later, He Yan painfully extracted the iron whip from Ba Zhu and herself, coiling it back around her wrist. She stood up—the black combat outfit she wore didn’t have the liveliness of her red one, adding a touch of severity. She stood perfectly straight, showing no sign of fatigue, playing with the whip on her wrist, smiling faintly as she repeated the same words as before.

“He’s dead. I won. The match is decided. Next.”