**CHAPTER 109 — A VICTORY THE SHOOM THE COURT
For a long, breathless moment, the entire training ground seemed frozen in time.
It was as if every person present had forgotten how to breathe. Forgotten how to blink. Forgotten how to think. All eyes were fixed upon the six wooden stakes — or rather, the six halves of wooden stakes — lying neatly severed across the ground.
Even though they had witnessed it with their own eyes, their minds refused to accept it.
An arrow.
One arrow.
And six stakes cut cleanly in half.
Impossible.
Unbelievable.
Unthinkable.
Yet the evidence lay before them, undeniable and merciless.
The guard who had earlier stood too close to the stakes felt cold sweat soaking through his uniform. His legs trembled beneath him. He swallowed hard, his throat painfully dry.
If he had not stepped back when Tang Ke Xin told him to…
If he had remained in place out of stubbornness or pride…
He would have been sliced apart like those stakes.
He shuddered violently.
Ye Lan Jue rose to his feet in a single, sharp movement. He took several steps forward, his gaze locked on the shattered stakes. His expression — usually cold, controlled, unreadable — was now openly shaken.
This woman…
Her abilities were growing at a terrifying pace.
How much did she know?
How much was she hiding?
How much more would she reveal?
The Emperor finally snapped out of his stupor. He strode forward, his robes sweeping behind him, his face a mixture of astonishment and disbelief.
"How did you do it?" he demanded, voice thick with shock. "How is this possible?"
He bent down, examining the broken stakes. They were not cracked or splintered — they were cleanly cut, as though sliced by a blade sharper than steel.
A thin wire lay curled on the ground, snapped in two.
The Emperor picked it up, turning it over in his hands.
"This tiny thing… produced such force?"
He shook his head, unable to comprehend it.
Even seeing it with his own eyes, he struggled to believe it.
Gu Xiuran approached silently. He crouched beside the stakes, studying them with the keen eye of a seasoned general. His brows furrowed, his fingers brushing the smooth, severed surfaces.
He found no trick.
No hidden mechanism.
No deception.
Only precision.
Power.
And a method he could not decipher.
He lifted his gaze to Tang Ke Xin, admiration flickering in his eyes.
This woman was extraordinary.
Around them, the court remained stunned. Ministers, noble ladies, guards — all stood rooted to the spot, their expressions blank with disbelief.
Even the Prime Minister, who had known Tang Ke Xin since childhood, stared at the stakes as though they were ghosts.
Tang Ke Xin turned calmly toward Feng Qingyan, her expression serene, her smile bright and devastatingly beautiful.
"Miss Feng," she said lightly, "I have broken six. The rest is up to you."
Her tone was gentle, almost polite — but the blow landed harder than any arrow.
Feng Qingyan's face drained of colour.
She had never imagined — not even in her darkest nightmares — that Tang Ke Xin would succeed. And not merely succeed, but succeed so completely.
Six stakes.
Six.
She had not even attempted anything. She had not prepared. She had not thought. She had simply assumed Tang Ke Xin would fail.
Now, no matter what she did, she could not match this.
She had wanted to humiliate Tang Ke Xin.
Instead, she had humiliated herself.
Her throat tightened painfully.
"I… I admit defeat…" she forced out, her voice trembling with humiliation and rage.
Tang Ke Xin raised a brow, her smile deepening.
"Admit defeat? Without even trying?"
Her voice remained soft, but there was a quiet power beneath it — a power that made Feng Qingyan's heart clench.
"The Emperor said earlier," Tang Ke Xin continued, "that one must try before declaring something impossible. Miss Feng, you proposed this competition. Should you not at least make an attempt?"
Feng Qingyan's face flushed red, then white, then red again. Shame and fury warred within her.
Imperial Concubine Ming stepped forward, her voice sharp. "Since Qingyan has already admitted defeat, why must Miss Tang force her?"
Tang Ke Xin turned her gaze toward the concubine, her smile cooling.
"From the beginning, Miss Feng insisted on competing in zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. I said I could not. Yet Miss Feng insisted. She was… quite forceful."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"I assumed Miss Feng wished to compete fairly. Not simply to declare defeat when the outcome no longer favoured her."
Feng Qingyan trembled. Her lips parted, but no words came.
Tang Ke Xin's voice remained calm, but her words were sharp as blades.
"I did not know how to shoot a bow earlier, yet I still tried. And the result was acceptable. Should Miss Feng not do the same?"
Feng Qingyan's composure finally cracked.
"Then what do you want?" she snapped, her voice rising in frustration and humiliation.
Gu Xiuran sighed softly. He barely recognised her. This was not the gentle, innocent girl he had once known. This was someone twisted by jealousy and pride.
Tang Ke Xin chuckled softly. "What can I want? I am merely stating the truth."
Her tone was light, but the mockery beneath it was unmistakable.
Feng Qingyan's face twisted with anger.
Tang Ke Xin turned away, dismissing her entirely.
"I'm hungry. Let's eat."
She walked toward the tables without another glance.
The Emperor opened his mouth. "Xin'er—"
But he stopped himself. He had no words.
The Crown Prince watched Tang Ke Xin with narrowed eyes. A dangerous glint flickered in their depths.
This woman…
He must marry her.
No matter the cost.
As Tang Ke Xin passed Gu Xiuran, he leaned slightly toward her.
"How did you do it?" he murmured. "I understand the theory, but the force… it is beyond anything I have seen."
His voice grew heavier. "If this method could be used on the battlefield… one could capture the enemy commander in a single strike. It would save countless lives."
Tang Ke Xin's steps slowed. Her expression softened.
"I will let you know another day," she said quietly.
Gu Xiuran blinked, startled. He had not expected her to agree so readily.
"Thank you, Miss Tang."
"There is no need for courtesy," she replied with a faint smile. "General Gu fights for the people. If this can reduce casualties, then it is worth sharing."
Before she could finish her sentence, a hand suddenly closed around her wrist — hidden beneath her sleeve — and she was pulled firmly to the side.
Ye Lan Jue.
Without a word, he guided her to sit beside him, his grip possessive, his expression unreadable.
Tang Ke Xin's lips twitched. Sometimes, he behaved like a sulking child.
Gu Xiuran saw the gesture. His eyes flickered — surprise, then something quieter, sadder.
The Emperor raised his cup.
"Come! Let us drink with our beloved officials!"
The banquet resumed, though the atmosphere remained charged with excitement and disbelief.
Feng Qingyan sat silently, her head lowered, her pride shattered.
Just as the Emperor lifted his cup—
A palace maid stumbled into the courtyard, her face pale with terror.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty — something has happened!"
The Empress stiffened. She recognised the maid — one of Ning Cai'er's attendants.
"What is it?" the Empress demanded, her voice sharp with dread.
The maid fell to her knees, trembling violently.
"Reporting to the Empress… Imperial Concubine Ning… she… she has had an accident."
The Empress's face drained of colour.
"What happened to her?"
The maid swallowed hard.
"Imperial Concubine Ning… she… she has died."
A collective gasp swept through the courtyard.
The Empress staggered back. "Impossible! The imperial physician said she was not seriously ill!"
The Emperor's expression darkened.
The maid's voice shook uncontrollably.
"She did not die of illness… she was… she was spoiled to death."
Silence fell again — but this time, it was heavy, suffocating, ominous.
The maid's next words dropped like a stone into still water.
"And… and at that time… only the Fourth Prince was in her chambers."
The courtyard erupted.
The implication was clear.
Too clear.
The Empress swayed.
The Emperor's face turned thunderous.
Tang Ke Xin's eyes narrowed sharply.
Ye Lan Chen?
Impossible. Beside he was just with her earlier…
He would never do such a thing.
Someone was framing him — and doing so with ruthless precision.
A prince and an imperial concubine.
A scandal of this magnitude could destroy him.
Tang Ke Xin's heart sank.
This was no accident.
This was a trap.
And the consequences…
Would be catastrophic.