Marked by the Ruthless Princess

In total, six contestants remained, conveniently divided into three pairs. Lina Riley was fortunate to draw the one who ranked last in mounted archery—a candidate who had fallen from her horse, injured her leg, and ultimately withdrew from the previous round.

With her opponent forfeiting, Lina had time to watch the other two matches while sipping water. Lana Warren wielded a broadsword with ferocious strength and speed. Her adversary quickly buckled under the pressure, and, spotting an opening, Lana kicked the poor fellow clear off the platform.

Victorious, Lana rested her sword on her shoulder and pointed its tip toward Lina, a blatant challenge. Lina merely returned a calm smile, frustrating Lana deeply. She'd hoped to rile Lina up, but nothing worked. The unwavering friendliness gnawed at her temper. Scowling, Lana glanced aside, muttering about "that hypocritical Riley family," just as her mother, Wang Fu, had described them.

Lina felt somewhat helpless. In her previous life, she and Lana had become friends after fighting side by side. Lana wasn't malicious—just overly proud and spoiled.

"Winifred Falkner is the winner," a voice called.

A breeze stirred Winifred's clothing. She sheathed her sword gracefully and offered a polite salute to her defeated opponent. Noticing Lina's gaze, Winifred approached her. For a moment, Lina had an illusion of the past, recalling countless separations and deaths on the battlefield. In those harrowing times, Winifred's gentle consolations had resembled this moment—like now, walking toward Lina.

Seeing Lina momentarily lost in thought, Winifred teased softly, "Miss Lina, please go easy on me in our match."

Lina returned to herself. She had once been blinded by hatred and grief, clinging to memories of lost companions. She felt a twinge of guilt now; not long ago, she'd considered retreating from it all, living as an ordinary person. Yet here stood Winifred, mirroring the past's gentle reassurance.

Lina managed a smile. "Of course."

High above, Lucille Everard observed the scene with a deepening frown. A surge of impatience gnawed at her. She longed to dash down there and separate the two. This strange possessiveness baffled her. She refused to believe she harbored any special feelings for Lina. By all logic, she shouldn't feel such jealousy. Could it be due to that night's mark—an unintended bond?

As Lucille puzzled over it, her face darkened. She tapped her fingers on the table in a rhythmic staccato that made the Emperor straighten nervously. Meanwhile, the final draw began. Three contestants remained, so one would advance without fighting.

Lana Warren drew first, revealing a bamboo slip marked with the number one. Lina's slip was blank, and Winifred's carried a bold "one." It seemed Lina was fortunate once more—she wouldn't have to fight immediately.

Yet the atmosphere grew tense. Lina realized she stood between Lana and Winifred. The air smelled faintly of gunpowder. Feeling the tug of conflicting memories, Lina quietly stepped back, leaving the field.

Lana eyed Winifred's slender sword with mockery. "A blade that thin?"

Winifred replied with a sweetly barbed smile, "It may lack your…robustness, Miss Lana."

Lina's head ached. In her previous life, these two had been inseparable, publicly affectionate. Now they were at each other's throats. Before Lina could dwell on it, the fight commenced.

Lana opened with a fierce overhead swing, aiming straight for Winifred's neck. Lina's heart leapt. She almost lunged forward, but Winifred deftly sidestepped and retaliated with a lightning thrust toward Lana's back. Lina nearly jumped onto the platform, relieved to see Lana narrowly evade.

This duel was lethal, both combatants fighting as if to kill, not just compete. Lina watched with mounting anxiety. Eventually, Lana's heavy blade cleaved Winifred's sword in two and hovered at her throat, deciding the outcome.

Lina finally exhaled in relief. Both warriors were wounded, pale, and breathing heavily. Winifred picked up her broken blade, clutching a numb arm, while Lana's garment was slashed in several places, blood seeping through. Lina's feelings were mixed. From her sleeve, she withdrew a bottle of salve provided by Sophia and offered it to Winifred.

Winifred was surprised, managing a grateful smile. "You're kind, Miss Lina."

Lina nodded, then stepped over to Lana. Holding out the same remedy, she met Lana's fierce glare. Unexpectedly, Lana slapped the vial away, sending it rolling across the ground.

"Don't pretend to be kind!" Lana snapped.

Undeterred, Lina retrieved the bottle and placed it near Lana's feet before walking off. Lana was in pain, sweat stinging her wounds. Refusing to accept help from a Riley irked her pride; in frustration, she kicked the vial away. The competition would continue regardless.

Lina tested her spear's balance calmly as she took the platform for the final round. Opposite her, Lana glared murderously, but Lina noticed a tremor in the hand gripping Lana's sword. Wanting to make things fair, Lina decided to use her weaker right hand. If no other factors were involved, she wouldn't mind losing to Lana. But…

Catching Lucille's gaze, Lina lowered her eyes. She couldn't afford to lose. How else would she repay that ten thousand tael debt?

A surge of resolve flared within. At the signal, Lina attacked first. She knew Lana's style intimately. Attacking low, Lana blocked and tried using brute force to knock Lina off balance, exposing a flaw. Lina capitalized, forcing Lana back with a swift kick. Lana's face turned pale. Lina hesitated, her conscience urging mercy.

To Lana, this hesitation was humiliation. Furious, she flailed her sword recklessly despite her injuries, forcing Lina onto the defensive. Observers might not understand, but Lucille did. Lina was holding back. Why? Lucille couldn't fathom it. Did Lina's kindness mask a dangerous flaw? On the battlefield, kindness was a weakness; Lucille needed a general, not a gentle soul.

Back in the ring, Lina's cautious stance dragged out the match. Eventually, Lana's strength failed, and her blade clattered to the floor. She trembled, no longer able to continue. Lina lowered her weapon and said calmly, "You fought well."

To onlookers, it seemed Lina's win was a fluke, exploiting Lana's prior injuries. Lina maintained a low profile, neither humiliating her opponent nor revealing her full power.

But Lana wouldn't accept it. She shouted hoarsely, "I'm not convinced! This isn't fair!" The crowd fell silent, all eyes flicking toward the Crown Princess. Did this reckless girl know what she was doing?

The Emperor tensed, hoping to spare Lana's life. She barked, "Insolence! Guards, take her away!" Soldiers rushed forward. Though exhausted, Lana struggled free and knelt, pleading, "It's not fair! Your Majesty, please choose another day for a rematch!"

The Emperor's heart sank. Ignoring the Crown Princess's authority was suicidal. Casting a panicked glance at Lucille, the Emperor saw the princess's smiling face—yet sensed hidden fury.

Lina's heart pounded. Was Lana's death about to occur even earlier than in her previous life? Desperate, Lina knelt too. "Your Highness, my victory was undeserved. I'm willing to yield the honor to Miss Lana."

If necessary, Lina would find another way to pay that ten thousand taels!

Lucille watched these two kneeling figures, anger smoldering. Lana despised Lina, yet Lina would sacrifice riches and glory for her? This realization irritated Lucille even more.

Standing abruptly, Lucille took a guard's sword, wiping its blade thoughtfully. Each wipe felt like a countdown to doom. The Emperor dared not speak. Everyone expected Lana's head to roll, painting the snow red.

At last, Lucille lowered the sword and sneered, "If it's a martial contest, fairness must prevail."

Lana brightened with hope, Lina smiled in relief, and everyone thought the crisis resolved.

Until Lucille added lightly, "But no postponements. Since you're injured, we'll try something else." Before Lina could react, a surge of killing intent fell upon her. Years of battlefield reflexes kicked in, and Lina raised her spear just in time. Steel met wood with a resounding clang. Lina, straining to hold the spear steady, looked up to see Lucille Everard's smiling face just inches away.

Lucille's voice was a whisper on the wind: "Let me see if she's truly worthy."

Lina's mind raced. Why had Lucille's anger shifted onto her? As they struggled, Lucille leaned in, murmuring in Lina's ear, "If I've chosen you, how can it be mere luck?"