Fang Chuning was bewildered. After that night in the Capital City, there had been almost no interactions between him and Xie Xun. When had he ever offended him? Why did Xie Xun treat him with such a bloodthirsty resolve, as if he intended to strike a fatal blow?
This resolve had nothing to do with political stance.
It seemed more like a personal vendetta.
"You are the Commander of Zhongzhou, and I am the Commander of the Ningzhou Iron Cavalry. Sooner or later, we're bound to cross swords on the battlefield. Now that you've stormed into my mansion alone, it's a provocation. Let's step outside and settle this with a duel—live or die, it's up to fate. What do you say?" Xie Xun proposed solemnly.
The tea served in this mansion was a specialty from West State. Its pale red color resembled blood diluted in water, exuding a faint grassy aroma. Fang Chuning's slender, porcelain-white fingers tapped lightly on the ceramic teacup, "To the death?"
"Yes!"
