Chapter 51: Sneak Attack

Usually beauty and brutality did not share a stage. Elders said: showy forms lack force; real force looks ugly.
Xie Jingxing was the exception. Born handsome and loose—yet prone on the saddle, lance ahead, he read as a war god tempered in sand and blood. Eyes could not leave him. Strength and grace, pretty and cruel—a beautiful wolf, noble and killing, heart-stopping.
Purple robe like lightning cloud; black horse flying under him—the hall seemed to heat with every hoofbeat. He carried a strange pull—made blood rise.
Changchao and Changwu watched the purple boy hard. They split left and right—pincer, crush him. Shameless plain—two on one.
Gasps rolled. Fu Xiuyi said: "Xie Jingxing—fine seed of the Xie house."
"Not so mystical," Zhou Wang laughed. "Such a rogue even Xie Ding cannot tame. Another hell-king, I'd say."
Fu Xiuyi smiled and said nothing. The playboy mask was not emptiness. Before absolute skill, schemes skid. He wore insolence in the open because he feared little. What made him fearless—likely confidence.
Unlike Zhou's swagger or Jing's caution, Fu weighed people whole. His staff held scholars and nobodies, ruined grandees and outright villains—talent only mattered; character, bearing, method—not to him.
So bright a man—how he wished to own him. Pity—the Lin'an Marquis house. That house could not stand long on Ming Qi's map.
He set regret aside and watched. Xie slipped the encirclement left and right—serpent. However tight the twins' net, he slid through. Their once seamless twin lances under his few moves looked hole-ridden, almost comic.
Contest shows rank. Mid-fight, high and low were obvious. The half-brothers before Xie were not a match.
"Heaven," Bai Wei covered her mouth. "Young Marquis is clearly playing with them."
"Yes—compared…" Yi Peilan marveled. "The twins' lance looks like posture only."
If women saw it, men saw it sharper. Xie could end in one strike—yet he ground them bit by bit. Lion with a rabbit—not hungry, only torment.
"Young Marquis is something," Feng Ning said. "Twin lance was their pride—now mud under sky. Today's fall will be ugly."
Shen Miao looked down at the board before her.
No—this was not ugly defeat yet. It had only begun.
She set a white stone slow. Two blacks vanished— a small bare patch on the grid.
On stage the twins finally snapped. Monkey-play half a day—rage and shame. Xie had meant to strip them publicly—they knew how wretched they looked. Kill intent flared in Changwu. He glared at the purple boy on the horse.
That face on the saddle—smile half there—bright from birth, heaven's favorite of Lin'an. Even so he scorned the marquis house—heir's seat, Xie Ding's partial love—tiger in the jungle blocking every path. How not hate?
Mask cracking in utter shame, Changwu roared, drove his lance straight at Xie—and in the pass viciously plunged it into the black horse's rump.
The hall recoiled.
In lance-on-horse review, no one struck the mount. The horse was partner—wound the beast and the rider fell—months in bed, broken limbs, broken neck, common ends. Review tested students, not blood; such foul play had never been seen.
Changwu had gone small and mean.
Changchao startled—then understood. Without pause he spurred at Xie—aiming to trample the fallen heir dead.
Mad—both of them. One thought in every mind: law in Ming Qi aside, if the marquis learned and Xie came to harm—could the bastards run?
Women screamed; men sucked cold air; timid hands over eyes. Delicate Feng Ning shrieked.
Shen Miao's wrist stopped on the stone. She lifted her eyes to the boy on stage.
The half-brothers were never clever opponents. This move was rotten—and Xie would not waste the gift.
The black horse screamed—forelegs shot high near vertical, wild thrash. Purple boy spun the lance in a flower, kicked the stirrup, lance crosswise hooked both forelegs—the mount crashed and did not rise.
Before minds caught up, Xie touched ground light as an immortal flying down. Lance flick—Changwu hurled off. Other hand flicked pebbles into Changchao's horse knee—rider could not dodge, fell hard.
Both down in a breath. One boot lazy on Changchao's shoulder; lance tip at Changwu's brow. Crooked smile: "Sneak your own brother—truly… overreached."