CHAPTER 108 — THE ARROW THAT SPLIT THE WORLD IN TWO
The Empress leaned closer to the Emperor, her voice soft but edged with unmistakable worry. "Your Majesty, Xin'er is being far too reckless… and Your Majesty is indulging her."
She could not openly contradict him, but her concern was plain. Tang Ke Xin was clever, yes — but cleverness did not break wooden stakes. And the girl had already drawn far too much attention today. The Empress feared that one misstep would turn admiration into mockery, or worse, suspicion.
The Emperor waved a hand, amused rather than offended. "No need to fret. Let her play. This girl is sharper than she appears. She may truly surprise us."
He did not believe Tang Ke Xin could accomplish what she claimed — but he was curious. And curiosity, once awakened, was not easily dismissed. Besides, the court had been far too dull lately. A little spectacle was welcome.
Since the Emperor had spoken, the Empress could only fall silent, though her brows remained tightly knit.
Tang Ke Xin stepped forward and bowed lightly. "Your Majesty, this humble girl requires some time to prepare."
"Take as long as you need," the Emperor replied cheerfully. "If it takes too long, we shall simply move the banquet outside. We can dine under the sky."
His tone made it clear — he was determined to see what she would do. Even dinner could wait.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Tang Ke Xin's lips curved into a faint, confident smile. "However, this humble girl requires certain items."
"Speak," the Emperor said, leaning forward. "Whatever you need, I shall have someone fetch it."
"I have them in my room. It would be faster for Dong'er to retrieve them."
The Emperor blinked, surprised. "Oh? Very well. Let Dong'er go. Her lightness skill is decent — she won't take long."
Dong'er bowed and darted away, her figure disappearing into the palace corridors.
The Emperor clapped his hands. "Move the tables outside! We shall dine beneath the open sky. General Gu, you must be used to such meals on campaign."
Servants hurried to obey. The training ground was vast, and within moments, tables and chairs were arranged neatly beneath the trees. Ministers and nobles took their seats, murmuring with curiosity and anticipation.
Tang Ke Xin sat quietly, eating a few bites while waiting for Dong'er. She appeared calm — almost too calm — as though she were not about to attempt something impossible. Her serenity only heightened the tension around her; the more composed she appeared, the more the court whispered.
Feng Qingyan also sat, though her eyes never left Tang Ke Xin. She wanted to see what ridiculous trick Tang Ke Xin was planning. She wanted to see her fail. She wanted to see her humiliated. She wanted Ye Lan Jue to see her superiority.
But beneath her poised exterior, Feng Qingyan's heart was a storm. Tang Ke Xin had already stolen too much attention today. She had already stood too close to Ye Lan Jue. She had already drawn too many admiring gazes. Feng Qingyan could not allow her to win again.
Dong'er returned swiftly, carrying several strange items.
The crowd stared.
Thin coils of wire.
Small metal hooks.
Odd tools no noble lady should possess.
"What are those?"
"Why would she have such things in her room?"
"What could she possibly do with them?"
Tang Ke Xin rose and took the items from Dong'er.
"Xin'er," the Emperor called, curiosity bright in his eyes, "you intend to use these?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied seriously. "This humble girl will prepare now."
"Go on, go on," the Emperor urged, leaning forward like an eager child.
All eyes followed Tang Ke Xin as she walked toward a cluster of large trees. Then she began circling them, winding the thin wire around their trunks.
Confusion rippled through the crowd.
"What is she doing?"
"Is she… playing?"
"Does she truly think this will break a stake?"
Even Dong'er, who trusted her mistress implicitly, felt a moment of doubt. It looked absurd — like a child's game.
But she knew better than anyone that Tang Ke Xin's results were always shocking.
"Miss," Dong'er whispered, "how many stakes do you intend to break?"
Tang Ke Xin considered. "Six."
Dong'er nearly dropped the wire. "Miss… isn't that too many?"
She remembered the last time — the terrifying power that had shattered a stake in the Prime Minister's estate. If Tang Ke Xin broke six in front of the entire court, the shock would be unimaginable.
Tang Ke Xin frowned thoughtfully. "Too much?"
Dong'er nodded vigorously. "Perhaps one or two would be enough…"
Tang Ke Xin nodded solemnly. "You're right. Being too high‑profile is not good."
Dong'er exhaled in relief.
"Then how many should we remove?"
Tang Ke Xin answered without hesitation. "Five and a half."
Dong'er stared at her, speechless.
"…Miss, please pretend I said nothing."
Five and a half was worse than six. It was madness.
Tang Ke Xin only smiled. "Feng Qingyan wanted to compete. Very well — I shall compete. And I shall make the difference between us unmistakable."
Dong'er bowed her head. "Dong'er understands."
Ye Lan Chen approached, frowning deeply. "Xin'er, what are you doing? Can this really break a stake?"
"You'll see," Tang Ke Xin replied with a serene smile.
She finished her preparations quickly — she had done this once before, after all.
Then she returned to the Emperor. "Your Majesty, this humble girl is ready."
"Oh? Already?" The Emperor's interest dimmed slightly. He had expected something dramatic — not a few thin wires wrapped around trees.
The crowd shook their heads. They thought she was simply playing around, protected by the Empress's favour.
Feng Qingyan's lips curled in open ridicule. So this was Tang Ke Xin's grand plan? Pathetic.
Ye Lan Jue, however, narrowed his eyes. Something flickered in their depths — suspicion, recognition, calculation. He had seen something like this before… somewhere. But the memory eluded him.
Tang Ke Xin turned to Feng Qingyan. "Miss Feng, are you ready?"
Feng Qingyan stiffened. She had done nothing — because she had no idea what to do. But she forced a smile.
"Miss Tang, please go first."
She had no intention of attempting the impossible. If Tang Ke Xin failed, she would simply refuse to shoot. At worst, it would be a draw — but Tang Ke Xin would be the one humiliated.
Tang Ke Xin saw through her instantly.
"Very well."
She stepped forward. "Prepare the stakes," she instructed the guards.
The guards hurried to obey.
"How many does Miss Tang intend to break?" Feng Qingyan's voice floated behind her, dripping with mockery.
Tang Ke Xin didn't look back. "As a person, one should be grounded. I shall set a small, achievable goal."
The crowd nodded approvingly.
A modest attitude. Sensible. Reasonable.
Then Tang Ke Xin added:
"Six."
The crowd nearly collapsed.
Six?
Six?!
This was her "small goal"?
The guards finished placing the stakes.
Tang Ke Xin gestured for them to step back. "Everyone, move aside."
The guards obeyed, though they exchanged bewildered looks.
Feng Qingyan smirked. Let her embarrass herself.
Tang Ke Xin lifted the bow. She drew the string back with all her strength — the bow creaked under the pressure.
Then—
She released.
The arrow shot forward, striking the thin wire she had wrapped around the trees.
Snap.
The wire broke — and recoiled with terrifying speed, whipping across the field like a blade.
It struck the row of wooden stakes—
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
All six stakes split cleanly in half.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Not even breathing.
The entire training ground — nobles, generals, servants, even the Emperor — stared in stunned disbelief.
Tang Ke Xin lowered her bow calmly.
As though she had done nothing extraordinary at all.