The Arena of Fate
The air was thick with tension.
The Imperial Training Grounds, once a place of disciplined sparring and routine drills, now felt like a battlefield waiting to be claimed.
Two men stood in the center of the ring two forces of nature, each commanding the attention of an empire.
Emperor Zhao Long. General Li Shengtian.
Power against speed.
Steel against steel.
A fight not just for honor, but for something far more dangerous.
And in the royal pavilion, Lin Ruyi sat in absolute stillness.
She knew that this duel was not just about skill.
It was about power.
It was about pride.
And, most importantly it was about her.
She had not meant for this to happen.
And yet here they were.
A Rivalry Forged in Steel
Zhao Long stood with the weight of a king his black-and-gold robes flowing behind him like storm clouds, his golden eyes unreadable.
His long fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword a blade that had once cut through battlefields, the edge stained with the blood of fallen warlords.
Before him, Li Shengtian stood with the stance of a seasoned warrior his dark eyes steady, his body poised like a coiled serpent.
He did not flinch.
He did not hesitate.
And that, Zhao Long realized, was what made him dangerous.
"Draw your sword, General," the emperor commanded, his voice calm.
Li Shengtian did not bow.
He simply unsheathed his blade in one smooth motion a weapon crafted for speed, its steel glinting in the sunlight.
The court held its breath.
And then
They moved.
Li Shengtian lunged fast, precise, a flash of silver cutting through the air.
Zhao Long met him head-on, blocking the strike with a sharp clash of steel.
The force of the impact rippled through the air, sending dust curling along the ground.
Then without hesitation Shengtian twisted, his movements fluid, seamless, delivering a rapid series of attacks meant to overwhelm.
Zhao Long was ready.
His golden eyes burned with focus, his blade a seamless extension of his will.
He blocked.
Deflected.
Countered.
Their swords moved so quickly that even the most seasoned generals struggled to follow.
Strike. Dodge. Parry. Pivot.
A deadly dance of skill and instinct.
The spectators watched in stunned silence.
They had never seen their emperor fight like this.
With effort.
With intensity.
With something dangerously close to fury.
A King Forced to Give His All
For the first time in years, Zhao Long felt his pulse quicken.
Li Shengtian was fast.
Faster than he had expected.
Each strike came a fraction of a second sooner than it should have.
Each step was calculated, precise the movements of a man who had fought for his life on the battlefield, not just in training halls.
And Zhao Long…
Had to work to keep up.
He exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip.
Ah.
So this is the man who intrigued my wife.
He would not admit it.
But he understood now.
Li Shengtian was not just a soldier.
He was a man who fought with his entire being.
A man who commanded respect, not by title, but by sheer skill.
And that—that was what Ruyi had seen.
The realization sent a sharp sting of irritation through him.
He clenched his jaw.
Fine.
Then he would show her and everyone else
Why he was emperor.
The Final Blow
The next strike came hard and fast.
Li Shengtian's sword cut a fraction too close, the wind of the blade whispering past Zhao Long's cheek.
A mistake.
A small one.
But a mistake nonetheless.
Zhao Long saw his opening.
And took it.
With a sudden burst of speed, he stepped inside Shengtian's guard too fast for him to counter.
One movement.
One shift of power.
A single, precise strike.
Zhao Long's sword swept low
And with a sharp, metallic clatter, Li Shengtian's blade was wrenched from his grip, flying across the ring.
Silence.
The court froze.
The warrior who had moved like a storm was now unarmed.
And Zhao Long, breathing heavily, blade still raised, stood victorious.
The emperor had won.
But barely.
And he knew it.
Zhao Long did not move.
Acknowledgment – And a King's Unspoken Jealousy
Zhao Long did not move.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring at the man before him.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring at the man before him.
Li Shengtian, though defeated, did not look away.
He did not bow.
He simply inclined his head slightly, a quiet acknowledgment of the battle they had just fought.
And Zhao Long?
Exhaled.
His fingers flexed around his sword.
Damn you.
Damn you for making me fight harder than I should have.
Damn you for proving why my wife respects you.
And most of all
Damn you for making me understand.
He lowered his blade.
And without warning
He did something no one expected.
He extended his free hand.
A gesture of respect.
A gesture of acknowledgment.
A gesture of victory.
Li Shengtian hesitated.
Then, slowly, he clasped Zhao Long's forearm.
Their gazes met.
And in that moment, a silent war was fought between them.
A war that neither was willing to admit.
A war over one woman.
The Wife Who Saw Too Much
From the royal pavilion, Ruyi watched the entire exchange.
She had seen every movement.
Every shift of power.
Every unspoken thought behind their blades.
And she knew better than anyone what had just happened.
Li Shengtian had lost.
But Zhao Long had not won easily.
And that alone was enough to shift the balance.
As Zhao Long turned and walked back toward her, his black robes flowing like a storm behind him, she lifted a single cup of tea.
Raised it just slightly.
And smirked.
Zhao Long's golden eyes darkened.
He sat beside her, his body still humming with the aftershocks of battle.
She tilted her head, just slightly.
"You fought well, Your Majesty."
A pause.
A beat too long.
Then softly, dangerously
Zhao Long exhaled a quiet laugh.
His voice was low, amused, and something else entirely.
"Careful, Ruyi."
He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her skin.
"Keep looking at other men like that"
His fingers brushed the edge of her sleeve.
"And you might find yourself unable to look at anyone but me."
Ruyi smirked.
And then without missing a beat
She lifted her cup.
And took a slow, deliberate sip.
Never breaking eye contact.
Zhao Long exhaled sharply.
Damn her.
This war between them was far from over.
The duel was over.
Zhao Long had won. Barely.
The court was still buzzing with whispers as attendants cleared the training grounds, and warriors discussed the battle in hushed, admiring tones.
Yet, despite his victory, Zhao Long did not feel satisfied.
He had seen Ruyi watching.
He had seen the slight tilt of her head, the way her emerald eyes gleamed with something unreadable as she observed Li Shengtian's every movement.
And now, she was leaving the pavilion.
Not toward him.
Not toward the palace.
But toward the general.
His jaw tightened.
An Act of Hospitality or Something More?
Ruyi moved with calm, measured grace, her crimson robes trailing behind her as she approached the resting area where Li Shengtian sat.
The general was seated beneath a silk-draped canopy, his sword laid across his lap, his posture relaxed but composed.
A nearby attendant wiped the sweat from his brow, but at the sound of approaching footsteps, he dismissed the servant with a slight nod.
Ruyi came to a stop just a few paces away.
Li Shengtian's dark gaze lifted to meet hers.
And then to Zhao Long's barely contained fury
She smiled.
"General," she greeted, her tone light but respectful. "I trust you are not injured?"
Li Shengtian chuckled, adjusting the cloth over his knuckles. "Nothing but my pride, Princess."
The familiarity in his voice was unsettling.
Not inappropriate.
Not disrespectful.
But… too natural.
Zhao Long's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.
From his seat in the pavilion, Han Zixuan smirked, amused.
"Well, well," he murmured under his breath. "How interesting."
Zhao Long said nothing.
But his golden eyes burned.
A Gift of Respect—Or a Provocation?
Ruyi turned slightly, gesturing toward her handmaiden, Xiao Tao, who stood nearby holding a small lacquered box.
At her mistress's silent cue, Xiao Tao stepped forward and knelt before Li Shengtian, offering the box with both hands.
Ruyi's voice was smooth, even.
"As a guest of the palace, you should be treated with honor," she said. "My kitchen has prepared a meal for you."
A pause.
Then, she smiled just slightly.
"Consider it an apology," she added, "for making you fight so hard today."
Li Shengtian let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
"Princess," he mused, his dark gaze steady. "You were always good at making victories feel like defeats."
Zhao Long's jaw locked.
An Invitation He Cannot Ignore
Just as Li Shengtian reached forward to accept the box, Ruyi tilted her head slightly.
"Or," she mused, "if you are not yet tired of sparring with words, perhaps you would prefer tea instead?"
A flicker of genuine amusement passed through the general's eyes.
"I would be honored."
Zhao Long rose to his feet.
Enough.
The movement was slow, controlled, yet filled with the weight of a man whose patience was unraveling.
The court fell silent.
The warriors tensed.
And Ruyi?
She simply turned, her gaze unreadable as she met her husband's stare.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then very deliberately Zhao Long lifted a single brow.
"Tea?" His voice was dangerously smooth.
Ruyi's lips curved.
"As a guest of the empire, General Li deserves hospitality."
Her tone was measured, polite.
But her eyes?
Her eyes were daring him to react.
A Husband's Jealousy, Masked in Control
Zhao Long did not look at Li Shengtian.
He did not look at the gift box, the silent exchange, or the way his wife had chosen to acknowledge another man's skill.
He only looked at her.
His wife.
His storm.
His beautiful, infuriating, unpredictable wife.
And she was testing him again.
Slowly, Zhao Long stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
The court watched with bated breath.
And then before Ruyi could say another word
He reached out.
Not for her hand.
Not for her sleeve.
But for her chin.
His fingers tilted her face upward, forcing her gaze to stay locked with his.
A silent claim.
A warning wrapped in silk.
And then, in a voice so low only she could hear, he murmured
"Careful, Ruyi."
His thumb brushed against the curve of her jaw, lingering just slightly.
"You might make me think you wish to see me jealous."
Ruyi's breath hitched.
Not in fear.
Not in submission.
But in something far more dangerous.
Excitement.
Anticipation.
Satisfaction.
She smirked.
And Zhao Long saw red.
The Invitation That Changes Everything
"Then join us for tea, Your Majesty."
The words were soft, sweet, and utterly defiant.
Zhao Long's golden eyes darkened.
Ruyi had trapped him.
If he declined it would be an admission of jealousy.
If he accepted he would be forced to sit at a table with a man he wanted to destroy.
And Lin Ruyi knew it.
Damn her.
Damn her for making this a game he could not win.
A long silence.
Then with a slow, sharp smile, Zhao Long released her chin.
And, in a voice dripping with amusement and unspoken threat, he replied
"Lead the way, my wife."
The game had only just begun.
And this time, Ruyi would learn that there were some battles she could not win.