Looking at Feng Jiu’er standing before her — with her mediocre lightness technique and mediocre internal energy — how could she possibly compare to herself?

Qiao Mu didn’t take her seriously in the slightest. From the way Feng Jiu’er had moved just moments ago, she had already sized her up completely.

Beat her? That was nothing but the talk of a fool lost in dreams.

“If I lose, I will not stand in your way from seeing the Ninth Prince.” Feng Jiu’er’s expression was calm, her manner so light it was impossible to read.

Of course, if she lost, wanting to stop them would be beyond her power anyway.

“General Feng!” From behind her, Huo Yan leapt down from his horse in a single bound and strode forward. “Allow this subordinate to fight in your place!”

Feng Jiu’er had originally served under his Longqi Army’s Fourth Division. Her martial skill, even if he couldn’t read it perfectly, he could at least gauge nine parts out of ten.

She was no match for this woman who called herself Qiao Mu. The gap between them was enormous — this fight held not even a sliver of a chance of victory.

“It doesn’t matter who comes!” Qiao Mu’s tone was arrogant, and she had every right to be.

“You can’t beat her.” Feng Jiu’er wasn’t trying to mock Huo Yan — she simply saw, clearly, just how formidable this opponent was.

Huo Yan’s words died in his throat, and his face instantly flushed red.

He considered himself someone of standing in the army. He had never imagined he would be no match even for a woman from the forests.

Jiu’er’s words were not wrong — he knew it himself. He was still a considerable distance behind his opponent in skill.

Who would have thought their venture would start so badly? They had barely left Yicheng when they ran into someone this formidable.

That Qiao Mu had held this mountain stronghold with her brothers for years was due not only to her exceptional leadership, but also to the undeniable advantage of her own superior martial skill.

Still, even at his worst, he could at least hold her off for a moment. If it were Feng Jiu’er, she’d have no chance of holding her back whatsoever — she might not even survive a single exchange.

Yet Feng Jiu’er remained utterly unconcerned. She smiled lightly, gave a wave of her hand.

Huo Yan could only fall back to his position with a worried heart, though his eyes never left the two figures ahead.

Not only Mu Mu and Huo Yan — everyone else watching Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu wore expressions full of anxiety.

Qiao Mu’s manner when she had drawn and levelled her weapon just moments ago had made it plain for all to see: her internal energy was profound. Among all of them here, likely no one was her match.

As for the people on the stronghold’s side — naturally, they erupted into cheers and shouts, rallying behind their chief.

Qiao Mu raised her hand, and the shouting behind her cut off immediately.

Dealing with a little girl was a matter of moments — no need for any rallying ceremony.

“How shall we fight? One round, life or death on the line?” Under her spear, it would be difficult to guarantee Feng Jiu’er’s safety.

Such a delicate, tender young woman, beautiful as a flower in full bloom — even Qiao Mu herself, woman though she was, felt reluctant to snap this fragile blossom.

But if she dared to set her sights on the Ninth Prince — then naturally, she had to be snapped.

Her Ninth Prince would never allow some unrelated woman to share him. Not even a passing fancy was permitted.

“We compete to see who sustains an injury first. Whoever is wounded first loses.” Feng Jiu’er’s voice was like the wind through a mountain ravine in the small hours before dawn — soft, easy, and unhurried.

Qiao Mu burst out laughing. “Ha! Good — who gets injured first! But listen here, little girl. If I happen to cut up that pretty face of yours, don’t come crying to me. I don’t comfort women!”

She swept her long arm upward. The Dragon’s Tongue silver spear traced a line of cold light through the air, its sharp tip carrying a biting chill as it pointed directly at Feng Jiu’er’s heart.

“Come on then — pick your weapon! I won’t take that advantage over you!”

“As for a weapon — I already have one.” Feng Jiu’er extended her hand toward her in a cupped salute. “Come!”

Qiao Mu’s cold eyes darkened, and she said angrily, “I said I wouldn’t take advantage of you over—You!”