Although that strike carried no apparent force and was nearly unnoticeable—so much so that hardly anyone saw it—it did not escape the swordsman’s eyes.
He gritted his teeth, staring at the spot where the melon seed had struck. With several consecutive backward kicks, he struck the axe repeatedly at that exact point.
Zhou Yuliang’s grip on the axe handle trembled from the shock, pain shooting through the web of his hand. He could no longer muster strength. One end of the long axe dropped to the ground, while his opponent’s broken sword was already aimed at his chest.
The situation overturned in an instant.
The swordsman withdrew his blade, exhaled, and bowed. “Thank you for the match.”
Only then did the audience react, erupting into thunderous applause.
Pei Nai, however, felt that Zhou Yuliang was far inferior to his father. The Taojiang Heavenly Axe no longer possessed the strength of the Six Rivers.
She withdrew her gaze and noticed that people at the neighboring tables were whispering while looking at her, their eyes filled with surprise. Pei Nai found it strange—she had thrown that melon seed very discreetly; ordinary people shouldn’t have noticed.
“Amazing! You really called it!” The young beauty behind her turned around again, her face full of admiration. She extended her hand in greeting. “Let’s get to know each other. My name is Wang Yixi. And you?”
Pei Nai was momentarily stunned. Looking closely, she indeed carried the bearing of the Princess Consort of Guangping—it was her.
Wang Yixi, titled Princess Chenzhao by the late emperor, was the youngest daughter of the Prince of Guangping. Though he had eight sons, she was his only daughter, and thus especially cherished.
Pei Nai had personally chosen the gift for her one-month celebration. Back then, the princess consort had handed the baby to Pei Nai to hold. Yixi had been wrinkled and tiny—who would have thought she would grow into such beauty?
“Tang Mingzhi,” Pei Nai replied, extending her hand.
Wang Yixi thought for a moment. “Are you Cousin Ju Liancheng’s relative?”
Pei Nai nodded. This was the capital—connections among noble families were nothing unusual.
“Then does Zhou Yuliang have a grudge against you?” Wang Yixi asked.
Pei Nai’s heart skipped a beat. Carefully, she said, “You saw it? That melon seed?”
Wang Yixi made a helpless expression and pointed downward. Pei Nai turned to look—Zhou Yuliang had somehow picked up the melon seed and was now looking up at her.
Feeling guilty, Pei Nai quickly pulled down the bamboo curtain on her side, hiding behind it, her ears burning red.
She gave an awkward laugh and replied, “His elders and my family have some old grievances.” It was close enough to the truth—she couldn’t exactly say she had fought his father before, while protecting the current emperor in his youth.
Wang Yixi paid no mind to others’ gazes and simply sighed. “The Zhou family’s story is quite tragic. His father, Zhou Mingfang, spent his life upholding justice, but for some reason got involved in the struggle for succession. Thinking himself loyal, he chose the wrong path. In the end, he left behind a lifetime of infamy. The current emperor nearly died under his axe. He died, but the Zhou family has suffered ever since.”
Pei Nai grew curious and followed the topic, asking about various events in the martial world over recent years.
The two gradually fell into easy conversation, finding each other agreeable. Twisting around to talk made their necks ache, so Wang Yixi invited her to sit at the same table.
The performances below continued uninterrupted. From time to time, Pei Nai glanced down, worried Zhou Yuliang might come looking for trouble.
They talked more and more enthusiastically, speaking whatever came to mind. Pei Nai felt a sense of openness and cheerfulness in Yixi’s words that suited her well.
Their conversation grew lively, and time flew by.
Before they knew it, Lady Xuanwu—who was meant to be the grand finale—was about to take the stage. The crowd quickly fell silent and turned their attention to the performance.
Pei Nai had not forgotten her purpose for coming here.
Amid the cheers, more than a dozen drums suddenly sounded in unison.
Boom. Boom.
Boom. Boom.
The rhythm was perfectly synchronized, powerful enough to shake the ground, stirring something deep within the heart. Then the tempo grew faster and faster, gripping the audience’s breath—boom, boom, boom—
Until it ended abruptly with one final heavy strike.
At that very moment, countless red silk ribbons fell from the ceiling above the stage. One end remained attached above, while the other drifted downward, each ribbon spaced apart, floating gently in the air.
Pei Nai finally understood why attendants had been moving through the corridors earlier, opening some of the windows—it was to let the wind flow in, so the red ribbons could sway.
At the very center of the stage, a woman in red descended slowly from above, holding a zither.
Three thick red ropes were securely fastened to her, allowing her to move freely in the air while ensuring her safety.
This was Lady Xuanwu—the current owner of Mingyue Tower, and the woman said to now stand at the side of the Duke of Duanding.
She appeared as though standing midair, her waist slender enough to be grasped in one hand.
Her red skirt swayed along with the floating silk ribbons, creating a graceful motion. The slight distance between each ribbon added a hazy, dreamlike quality, allowing the audience to see both her and the instrument, yet never too clearly.
As people leaned forward, trying to get a better look at her face, something suddenly exploded in Pei Nai’s mind like a streak of fireworks.
In an instant, sparks scattered—she froze.
That Lady Xuanwu… resembled her former self, Pei Nai, by nearly eighty percent.
For a moment, it felt like looking into a dim bronze mirror at her own reflection.
Could it be that, just as her soul had entered another body, someone else had entered hers?
No. That was impossible.
There were clear differences—significant ones. Unlike her own body, trained through years of martial arts, Lady Xuanwu’s frame was smaller and more delicate. It could not be her.
Gu Jinheng… had given the affection she had never received in life, after her death, entirely to another woman who could replace her.
A chill spread through her heart, filling her with disappointment. Before she could calm down, a sharp pain suddenly struck her head.
Voices filled her ears—chaotic and overwhelming. Her vision turned white, and fragmented images appeared.
Once again, she saw soldiers dropping their weapons in unison, the earth trembling as a unified command rang out: “The Pei Army—obey the general’s order!”
Then the scene shifted, and she saw a bright moon.
Her head throbbed as if splitting apart. Clutching it in pain, she heard a familiar voice: “Did he ever say he loved you?”
Her own reply surfaced, murmured softly: “Never.”
The voices in her mind grew louder and more chaotic. Though she remembered nothing, she could hear them clearly.
Someone whispered, “Do not trust Gu Jinheng too much!”
Another voice shouted across a vast plain, “Do not forget—you fight for your country!”
And finally, a heart-wrenching cry called out her name—
“Pei Nai!!”