The Invincible Young Master

After the lavish feast had ended, Duke Red led Princess Ling Yan to a different area of the estate, promising further entertainment.

The mansion's garden, now illuminated by tall lamps casting a soft glow, had transformed into a picturesque setting. The lamp's light reflected off the lush greenery and created a magical ambiance that drew murmurs of admiration from the gathered guests.

As the Duke and the Princess approached, the guests parted respectfully, creating a path for them to the seats prepared specifically for this moment.

Duke Red gestured for Princess Ling to take the honorary seat while he settled into his own alongside Spark and William.

In front of them lay a small open field, subtly marked as the stage for the evening's performance.

Two men in polished armor strode confidently onto the field, bowing deeply toward the Duke and the Princess. Their movements were measured and deliberate, suggesting not just respect but also a deep familiarity with formal displays.

"Duke, what is this?" Princess Ling asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice as she glanced at the armored men.

"It's something I arranged for your entertainment, Princess Ling," Duke Red replied with a proud smile.

As the Duke gave a signal, the two men turned to face each other, drawing their swords. The audience watched in anticipation as the duel commenced.

Each move was executed with precision, their swords clashing in a rhythm that spoke of intense training and rehearsed choreography. It was clear that neither fighter intended to yield; they parried and attacked with a fluidity that turned their combat into a mesmerizing dance of steel.

Despite the intensity, the duel was graceful, almost too polished, as if crafted more for spectacle than for a true test of skill. This became evident when both combatants' swords shattered simultaneously, bringing the duel to a dramatic conclusion with neither side gaining the upper hand.

Bowing once more to the Duke and the Princess, the two men left the field, their performance met with polite applause.

"That was a magnificent display of swordsmanship," Princess Ling praised, her eyes reflecting a genuine appreciation for the skill on display.

"If the Princess enjoyed it, we can arrange for another match," Duke Red offered, ready to summon the next pair of combatants when a voice broke through the murmurs of the crowd.

"How is this a fight? Where's the blood and the guts spilling?" Spark's frivolous tone drew the attention of everyone present.

Duke Red hesitated, taken aback by Spark's blunt comment. The display had been designed with Princess Ling's sensibilities in mind, more a staged performance than a true battle.

"Lord Spark, it would be inappropriate to show such violence before the Princess," William interjected, trying to smooth over the moment. He had invited Spark thinking his presence would elevate the event, but now he was beginning to regret his decision.

Princess Ling, however, surprised everyone.

"I wouldn't mind," she said calmly. "I'm accustomed to such sights, so please, don't worry about me."

Taking her words as approval, Duke Red whispered to an attendant, quickly arranging for another fight.

This time, the fighters who stepped into the field were noticeably different. They were unarmored, wearing simple garments that contrasted sharply with the earlier duelists, but each held a sword. The audience watched with renewed interest as these new combatants prepared to engage.

"Are these men from your household?" Princess Ling asked, a note of concern in her voice. "Is it wise to let them get wounded?"

Duke Red shook his head. "Princess Ling, these are not our men. They are criminals, recently captured and of little consequence."

The fighters, it was revealed, were part of an infamous gang that had been recently apprehended. They had been given a chance to lessen their sentences by participating in this duel, a desperate bid for freedom or at least reduced punishment.

The duel began with a fierce intensity, their swords clashing not in practiced moves but in raw, desperate strikes. Each blow was heavy, each parry a testament to their will to survive. The air filled with the sharp sound of metal meeting metal, and the audience watched in hushed silence.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

The clash of swords echoed through the garden, intensifying with each strike. Tension mounted as the thinner combatant struggled to maintain his grip. After a few more exchanges, his sword slipped from his hand. Seizing the opportunity, his opponent struck without hesitation, severing the man's hand in a brutal and decisive move.

"That's it!" an armored man nearby announced, stepping forward to declare the winner.

From his seat, Spark, still visibly drunk, growled in dissatisfaction. "Do you call that a fight? Why did it take so long to end?"

Intrigued by Spark's comment, Princess Ling turned to him. "Oh? What does Lord Spark consider a proper fight?"

Spark's grin widened mischievously. "Butler Zhao."

"I'm here, Young Master," came the composed response.

"Show them how a proper fight should be," Spark commanded.

With a respectful nod, Zhao Shi began to remove his outer suit, revealing a lithe, muscular frame that contrasted sharply with his earlier unassuming appearance.

As Zhao Shi prepared, the guards brought forth another captive, a man who looked resigned to his fate.

"Give him a weapon," one of the armored guards suggested, noting Zhao Shi's unarmed state.

"No need," Zhao Shi replied calmly, his eyes fixed on his opponent.

"Are you sure?" the guard asked again, puzzled by the confidence in Zhao Shi's voice.

Zhao Shi simply nodded and assumed a fighting stance.

"That fighting stance..." Princess Ling murmured, her brows furrowing as if trying to recall where she had seen it before.

The duel began. Zhao Shi's opponent, armed with a sword, charged at him with determined aggression.

Zhao Shi stood motionless, waiting for the perfect moment. As the attacker came within range, Zhao Shi moved with blinding speed. His punch, directed precisely to the area near the heart, was too quick for ordinary eyes to follow. The opponent froze, sword still raised, and then crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Winner…" the armored guard announced, as others rushed to carry away the fallen man.

"That's one way to win a clash," Princess Ling praised, impressed by the swift and efficient takedown.

"See? Even the Princess agrees!" Spark exclaimed, raising his voice in triumph. "A clash should be swift and without unnecessary moves."

Princess Ling smiled, nodding in agreement with Spark's philosophy.

Seeing the princess enjoying, the Duke ordered another opponent to be brought forth. This time, it was one of the gang leaders, a hardened fighter with a menacing presence.

However, Zhao Shi's victory was equally swift. A single, precise blow rendered the gang leader unconscious, leaving the crowd in awe of his skill.

For the third round, the guards brought a powerful opponent: a burly man in heavy chains, the notorious leader of the underground gang. His presence alone sent a ripple of unease through the audience.

The armored guard addressed the burly man. "As long as you give a good fight and don't lose swiftly, we'll consider your request."

The burly man nodded, understanding that this was his chance for a reduced sentence, perhaps even a path to freedom.

"Remove the chains," ordered the armored man.

As the chains clattered to the ground, the burly man entered the field, his eyes darting around, assessing the situation. He seemed to accept the challenge initially, but then his gaze locked onto the main seats where Princess Ling and Duke Red sat.

Without warning, he bolted towards them, his speed startlingly fast.

"Stop him!" the armored guard shouted in alarm, realizing too late that the burly man's true intent was to capture Princess Ling as a hostage.

The burly man's plan was clear: if he could seize the Princess, he might negotiate his escape. Freedom seemed just within his grasp as he closed the distance, his eyes gleaming with desperate hope.

But just as he was about to reach the main seats, a figure appeared in his path, stopping him cold. It was the masked man who had been silently observing all along. His sudden movement was so fast that the burly man seemed to be frozen in place, unable to move or react.

The masked man's eyes were cold and penetrating, as if he could see through to the very soul of his enemy.

Raising his palm, he aimed directly at the burly man's head and spoke with chilling authority. "Your crime is punishable by death. Die."

With a swift, decisive motion, the masked man's palm struck, and the burly man's body exploded into a spray of blood, his form disintegrating almost instantaneously.

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