Nine Nights Owl Song

November 15th, the eighteenth year of Yong'an.

Luoyang, Prince Zhao's residence.

With the affairs of the northern border settled, the second prince left the capital to join the army. Although the crown prince's family held absolute power in the court, they were nothing more than grasshoppers in autumn.

Xiao Yan had a few rare days of leisure, spending his days attending court, returning home, brewing tea, and reading books, living like a retired old man.

Su Jiuge disliked his lazy demeanor, but she didn't say anything—she understood him; he wasn't lazy, he was gathering his strength.

The battles in the imperial court are harder to fight than those on the battlefield. On the battlefield, the enemy is visible and tangible, but the enemy in the imperial court hides in the shadows, greeting you with a smile while stabbing you in the back.

He needs time to observe and time to plan.

Zhao Ying didn't care about these things.

He only cared about one thing—the competition.

After the contest on their wedding night, he made a six-month agreement with Xiao Yan.

Now, half a year has long passed, and with war, the northern border, and the imperial court one thing after another, the competition has been postponed again and again.

Zhao Ying had endured it all, but today she could no longer bear it. Xiao Yan was sitting under the eaves brewing tea when Zhao Ying strode over from the other end of the training ground and stood in front of him, her shadow covering half of the tea table.

Xiao Yan looked up at him.

"Your Highness, the six-month period has passed." Zhao Ying's voice was not loud, but every word seemed to be squeezed out from between her teeth.

Xiao Yan picked up his teacup.

"I was busy with things in the North and forgot."

"Forgot?" Zhao Ying's eyes widened.

"You said you'd fight me every six months, have you forgotten?"

Xiao Yan took a sip of tea.

"I remember now."

Zhao Ying took a deep breath.

"Should we fight or not?"

"Hit him." Xiao Yan put down his teacup and stood up.

Zhao Ying's mouth stretched from ear to ear.

They had been waiting for this day for more than half a year, from their wedding night to the Western Frontier, from the Western Frontier to the Northern Frontier, and from the Northern Frontier back to Luoyang.

Finally waited.

He turned and walked toward the training ground, but after taking two steps, he turned back.

"Your Highness, this time you can't back down. The last time you caught my sword with your bare hands didn't count. I want to fight you for real, swords and spears."

Xiao Yan looked at him and said only one word:

"it is good."

The training ground, located on the east side of Prince Zhao's residence, covers three acres and is paved with bluestone, surrounded by high walls. It's usually where Su Jiuge practices her swordsmanship, but today it's been cleared out for Zhao Ying and Xiao Yan to spar.

The news somehow leaked out, and people from Prince Zhao's mansion came upon hearing it—Shen Qing, Lin Mo, Zhao Xiaohe, Bai Yu, and even the old drunkard slowly strolled over, leaning on his cane.

Su Jiuge leaned against a pillar by the training ground, a straight sword hanging at her waist.

She neither stopped nor advised him, wanting to see Xiao Yan's true strength.

Zhao Ying stood in the center of the training ground, a short blade in her hand, the moonlight shining on the blade and giving it a cold gleam.

His eyes burned with fire—not murderous intent, but fighting spirit. The fighting spirit he'd waited half a year for was about to ignite.

Xiao Yan walked over from the corridor, not wearing armor or a tight-fitting outfit, but dressed in a moon-white casual dress, with no sword at his waist and no weapon in his hand.

Zhao Ying frowned. "Your Highness, you won't use a weapon?"

Xiao Yan looked at him, rolled up his sleeves, and revealed his wrist.

"My weapon is here."

Zhao Ying's eyes narrowed slightly.

A master at the Core Formation Realm can turn any blade of grass or tree into a weapon.

He doesn't need weapons; his hands are weapons, his body is weapons, and his inner strength is weapons.

Zhao Ying clasped her hands and bowed deeply to Xiao Yan. It wasn't a formal greeting, but a gesture of respect before battle.

"Your Highness, please forgive me."

Before he finished speaking, his figure vanished from the spot—the speed of someone at the Core Formation Realm was so fast that it was almost impossible for the naked eye to detect.

The short blade traced a silvery-white arc in the moonlight, heading straight for Xiao Yan's throat.

This strike used 80% of its power; it was a test.

Xiao Yan did not dodge.

His body leaned back slightly, the blade of the short sword grazing his chin, just an inch away.

Zhao Ying's second strike followed immediately, the short blade changing direction in mid-air, slashing upwards towards Xiao Yan's chest.

Xiao Yan dodged to the side, the blade grazing his clothes and slicing off a strip of cloth.

Zhao Ying's knife moved faster and faster.

One cut, two cuts, three cuts, four cuts, five cuts—ten cuts, twenty cuts, thirty cuts.

Each strike was faster and more ruthless than the last.

The glint of swords under the moonlight wove an impenetrable net, enveloping Xiao Yan within it.

Xiao Yan did not fight back; he kept dodging.

It wasn't that I couldn't dodge it; I was watching—watching Zhao Ying's swordsmanship, watching Zhao Ying's rhythm, watching Zhao Ying's weaknesses.

On their wedding night, he caught the knife with his bare hands; that was to save Su Jiuge, not a contest.

Today is a formal competition; he cannot risk his life.

Zhao Ying is Su Jiuge's man, a member of the Dark Pavilion, and his brother.

The trial will continue until it is over.

Zhao Ying's fortieth strike missed.

His rhythm was off, not because he was exhausted—a cultivator at the Core Formation stage could fight for a whole day and night without running out of energy.

It's his mindset; he got anxious.

Xiao Yan kept dodging and didn't fight back, like a cat teasing a mouse.

He felt that he was being looked down upon.

"Your Highness, fight back!"

Xiao Yan looked at him. "Are you sure?"

Zhao Ying gritted her teeth.

"Sure."

Xiao Yan fought back.

He slapped Zhao Ying's short blade with his palm, the palm wind carrying a powerful internal force, and the short blade emitted a buzzing sound.

Zhao Ying's hand went numb from the shock, and the short blade nearly slipped from his grasp. His pupils constricted sharply—Xiao Yan's palm strike was incredibly powerful; even though they were both at the Core Formation Realm, his internal energy was far superior to Zhao Ying's.

It wasn't like this before; his internal energy wasn't this strong when they fought on their wedding night.

In the past six months, he has made a breakthrough—from the early stage of the Core Formation Realm to the middle stage.

Zhao Ying's heart sank, but he did not back down.

The short blade traced a semicircle in the air and stabbed towards Xiao Yan's chest.

Xiao Yan slapped the back of the knife with his palm, using the force to gracefully retreat and create distance between himself and Zhao Ying.

Under the moonlight, the two stood facing each other. Zhao Ying gripped a short blade and gasped for breath, while Xiao Yan stood opposite her with steady breathing.

Zhao Ying looked at him.

"Your Highness, you have broken through."

Xiao Yan did not deny it.

"Breakthrough in the North."

Zhao Ying remained silent for a moment before sheathing the short blade back into her waistband.

"I lost."

Xiao Yan looked at him.

"You didn't lose, and I didn't win. The contest was limited to a draw. Your swordsmanship was faster than mine. My internal energy was stronger than yours. If we really fought to the death, the outcome would be unpredictable."

Zhao Ying's eyes reddened.

It wasn't about winning or losing, but about what Xiao Yan said. A loss is a loss; he didn't need to comfort him.

But Xiao Yan didn't comfort him; he was telling the truth.

Su Jiuge leaned against the pillar and watched this scene. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly, not in a smile, but in satisfaction.

She already knew that Xiao Yan had broken through to the mid-stage of the Core Formation Realm in the Northern Border. Zhao Ying's swordsmanship was faster than Xiao Yan's, but her internal strength was not as profound. If it were a life-or-death struggle, Xiao Yan would have a greater chance of winning. But she wouldn't say that; it was a matter between them.

Lin Mo peeked out from behind a pillar, his mouth agape.

What did he see? The Sixth Prince Xiao Yan, the Sixth Prince who sits under the eaves every day brewing tea and reading books, looking like a scholar, just now fought Zhao Ying so fiercely that sand and stones flew everywhere?

Lin Mo tugged at Shen Qing's sleeve.

"Brother Shen Qing, the Sixth Prince...is his martial arts so advanced?"

Shen Qing didn't look at him.

"Um."

Lin Mo then asked, "Why didn't he fight before?"

Shen Qing remained silent for a moment.

"It's not the right time yet."

Lin Mo didn't quite understand, but he remembered it.

The old drunkard sat on the veranda, forgetting to drink from his gourd. He looked at Xiao Yan on the training ground, a glint in his cloudy eyes.

He used to look down on this son-in-law—a good-for-nothing playboy, unworthy of his daughter.

Now he knows he's not a piece of trash.

How could someone who could pull his girl out of the darkness be a good-for-nothing?

The old drunkard took a swig of wine, making a gurgling sound in his throat. "Good, good."

As night deepened, the people on the training ground gradually dispersed.

Zhao Ying stood alone in the open space, holding the short blade in her hand and examining it repeatedly.

Xiao Yan's palm strike was still imprinted on the blade, the internal force causing the blade to heat up slightly.

Su Jiuge stepped out of the shadows.

"You're not convinced?"

Zhao Ying looked at her.

"I admit defeat. But next time, I won't lose."

Su Jiuge nodded.

"Then next time."

Zhao Ying sheathed her sword, turned and walked away, but stopped after taking two steps.

"Sect Master, I used to think His Highness was just lucky. Lucky to be born into the royal family, lucky to marry you, lucky to have the Thousand Machine Pavilion. Today I know he's not just lucky. He's truly capable. He's pretended to be a good-for-nothing for so many years. The people of the Great Liang royal family are really good at pretending."

Zhao Ying is gone.

Su Jiuge stood still.

On November 15th, the contest between Zhao Ying and Xiao Yan ended. The contest was concluded without a clear winner.

Zhao Ying lost by half a move, but she refused to admit defeat.

Xiao Yan won by half a move, but did not claim victory.

When two experts at the Core Formation Realm clash, they stop when they've reached the point of contact.

It was a contest of skills, but also a heart-to-heart talk.

From this day forward, Zhao Ying is no longer "the Pavilion Master's friend," but Xiao Yan's brother.