“Cough…” Feng Jiu’er nearly choked herself.

“Jiu’er, what gift did Qiao Mu bring you?” Xiao Yingtao’s voice drifted over.

Feng Jiu’er coughed hard, then said flatly, “Weren’t we supposed to have a competition? Why hasn’t it started yet?”

“Right, right, right, let’s begin.” Xiao Yingtao let the matter drop.

Compared to a single flower, it was far more important that their Tianji Hall beat the Longwu Army.

“Alright!” Yu Jingfeng raised both arms, signaling for everyone to quiet down.

“Since Jian Yi has returned, this round’s match will now be between Tianji Hall and the Longwu Army.”

“Tianji Hall is sending Jian Yi. Who will represent the Longwu Army?”

Yu Jingfeng looked toward where the Twelve Feilong Riders sat, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly.

“I just asked the Prince for his approval — whoever wins this match gets ten thousand taels in silver notes. Who’s up?”

“I’ll go,” said Long Shiyi, picking up his long sword and standing.

“Eleventh Brother, go for it!” Gong Xing’er jumped to her feet excitedly.

“Xing’er, whose side are you on?” Yue Qinchun glanced at Gong Xing’er.

Gong Xing’er blinked and sat back down. “Tianji Hall’s.”

“Big Brother Jian Yi.” She looked up at Jian Yi. “Big Brother Jian Yi, go for it!”

“Long Shiyi, go for it!” Long Qi shouted loudly.

“Jian Yi, go for it!” Xiao Yingtao immediately joined in as well.

“Long Shiyi, go for it!”

“Jian Yi, go for it!”

Amid the crowd’s cheers, Long Shiyi and Jian Yi both held their swords and walked toward the center of the hall.

The two handsome men standing side by side made for a pleasing sight.

But whether one looked at height or appearance, Jian Yi still had the edge.

“Shiyi, if you can withstand five strikes from Jian Yi, you win!” Long Yi said with a teasing smile.

Jian Yi’s swordsmanship was masterful — everyone was certain Long Shiyi was no match for him.

“Then let’s say Long Shiyi wins if he can withstand five of Jian Yi’s strikes within the time it takes for one stick of incense to burn. How’s that?” Yu Jingfeng asked.

“No problem!”

“Sounds good!”

“That works too!”

Everyone voiced their agreement.

After getting Feng Jiu’er’s opinion, Yu Jingfeng turned his gaze back to the center of the hall.

“Alright, let me say a few words here. Today is a good day, so the match must stop the moment a point is scored, to avoid any accidental injury.”

With a ringing clang, Long Shiyi drew his sword first. “Big Brother Jian Yi, please guide me!”

Jian Yi drew his sword, looked at Long Shiyi, and nodded lightly.

“Finally, a chance to see Jian Yi’s swordsmanship. Long Shiyi, you’d better hold on!” Yu Jingfeng said softly, then waved his arm.

“Match — begin!”

At Yu Jingfeng’s command, the sound of clashing swords rang out through the hall.

The two men moved with such agility and speed that it was almost impossible to follow with the eye.

But it was clear that Long Shiyi was quickly falling behind.

He had barely managed to block one strike when Jian Yi’s swift blade came at him again, forcing Long Shiyi to keep retreating.

Everyone watching felt the tension keenly — opportunities to sit down and properly enjoy a sword duel like this were rare.

Though Long Shiyi’s swordsmanship couldn’t match Jian Yi’s, as a member of the Twelve Feilong Riders his martial skill was nothing to scoff at.

While everyone else focused on the duel, Feng Jiu’er’s attention had gradually begun to shift.

She wasn’t sure when it started, but she felt that Jian Yi seemed somehow different today.

Yet she couldn’t quite put her finger on what exactly was different.

“Alright! Time’s up!” Yu Jingfeng called out, timing it precisely.

Long Shiyi had only managed to block three strikes, but he’d given it his all.

Because he trusted Jian Yi’s skill and his character, once Yu Jingfeng called the match, Long Shiyi sheathed his sword and turned around.

But unexpectedly, the silver blade in Jian Yi’s hand was rapidly closing in on his back…