The expected sharp pain never came.
The fierce force, strong enough to cut a person in half, stopped abruptly less than an inch from her waist.
Faluehir slowly opened her eyes.
What she saw was Zhao Yingyue’s pretty face, wearing a smug smile, and the red spear tip hovering a finger’s breadth from her chest.
“I lost.”
Faluehir admitted frankly, without a trace of frustration on her face.
Instead, a relieved smile appeared.
That smile, like the first thaw of ice and snow, instantly brought a breathtaking radiance to her originally cold and beautiful face.
Zhao Yingyue withdrew her spear with a flourish, striking it behind her with a dull “thud”.
She walked up to Faluehir, reached out, and lightly wiped a drop of sweat from the tip of her nose, grinning like a cat that had stolen cream.
“So, my esteemed Divine Chosen, do you admit it now? That soft Swordsmanship of Arslan of yours is no match for my Six Harmonies Spear.”
“Yes, yes, I admit it.”
Faluehir rolled her eyes at her, exasperated, looking just like a girl bullied by her classmate—nowhere near the dignity of a Divine Chosen.
She fanned herself with her hand as she walked to the stone bench at the edge of the field.
“No more, no more. I haven’t won since military school.”
“HAHAHAHA!”
Zhao Yingyue burst out with a silver bell-like laughter.
The two sat on the stone bench as maids brought iced sour plum soup.
Faluehir picked up the bowl and drank it down in one go, paying no heed to her image.
The cold liquid slid down her throat, driving away the heat from her body and making her let out a long, comfortable sigh.
This brief peace and relaxation were a luxury for her.
Only here, in front of her best—and only—friend, could she shed her heavy mask and become once again the girl named Faluehir, who could laugh, get angry, and feel tired.
“Speak.”
Zhao Yingyue took a sip of the sour plum soup as well, her smile fading and replaced by a rare seriousness.
“We’ve fooled around enough, fought enough. Now you can talk, right?”
Her bright eyes locked onto Faluehir.
“What kind of trouble is so big it makes the great Divine Chosen, who never leaves Arslan, come all the way to this remote place?”
Faluehir’s hand paused, still holding the bowl.
The relaxed ease on her face faded, replaced in her pale blue eyes by a heavy worry far beyond her years.
She was silent for a moment before speaking in a near whisper, her voice filled with deep exhaustion.
“Yingyue…”
—
When Faluehir finished her story, a long silence fell over the training ground, broken only by the rustle of bamboo leaves in the wind.
The cheerful smile on Zhao Yingyue’s face had long since vanished, replaced by shock and anger.
The deaths of eleven magic girls, Barto’s corruption and the king’s foolishness, the involvement of the church and player forces—each event pressed down like a heavy stone.
Zhao Yingyue gripped the porcelain bowl in her hand so tightly her knuckles turned white.
She could imagine how desperate Faluehir must have felt, standing alone at that empty supply point, surrounded by monsters with her exhausted subordinates.
She could also feel the humiliation of enduring injustice and bitterness in the palace for the sake of the greater good.
“Those bastards!”
Zhao Yingyue finally couldn’t hold back, slamming the bowl to the ground with a sharp crash.
“Dulannil, that fat pig! Barto, that parasite! And Feiyinke, that old fraud! How dare they!”
She jumped to her feet, chest heaving.
“No! Fani, come with me! Let’s go find my master right now! I’ll muster the Night Dragon Nation’s troops and storm the capital of Arslan myself! I want to see whose guards are tougher—Dulannil’s or the Six Harmonies Spear of the Night Dragon Nation!”
Seeing Zhao Yingyue’s righteous fury on her behalf, Faluehir couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions.
She reached out and gently took Zhao Yingyue’s wrist.
“Yingyue, sit.”
Her voice remained calm.
Zhao Yingyue turned back, meeting Faluehir’s pale blue gaze.
In those eyes, she saw no anger or sorrow—only a calm, bottomless lake.
“Arslan is already on the brink… For the sake of the people, as a Divine Chosen, I cannot—and should not—start a national war… Besides, Feiyinke would never let the Night Dragon Nation interfere in Arslan’s affairs.”
“Then what should we do? Just watch?”
Zhao Yingyue said urgently.
“I didn’t come to you to seek justice.”
Faluehir looked at her and spoke each word clearly.
“I came… to request reinforcements.”
She paused, then continued.
“I need an elite squad—a force not controlled by the kingdom or the church. My magic girl unit has suffered heavy losses, the king does nothing, and the players are completely unreliable… I need this force to enter the Forbidden Swamp and uncover what’s behind the monster outbreak.”
Zhao Yingyue was silent.
She understood Faluehir’s meaning.
The disturbance of the Demon Lord was not just a border skirmish between the Forbidden Swamp and Arslan—it might engulf the entire continent.
“You mentioned those players…”
Zhao Yingyue sat down again, frowning.
“We have some here in the Night Dragon Nation too—not many, mostly around the Starfall Tower. I’ve dealt with them a few times. How to say… Just like you said, they’re strong and fearless, but act on whims, with no sense of honor or loyalty.
I once tried recruiting some as sparring partners, but the next day they complained the experience was too low and went to the Extreme Ice Sea to catch Shining Bramble Polar Bears as pets.”
Her tone was full of confusion and disdain.
On this, she and Faluehir were in total agreement about these foreigners who treated life and death as a game.
“Entrusting the fate of a kingdom to people like that… Dulannil is insane.”
“He’s not insane. He just doesn’t care.”
Faluehir’s tone was calm.
The two sat in silence, and the atmosphere in the training ground grew heavy once more.
After a long while, Zhao Yingyue looked up, eyes full of resolve.
“Fine! I’ll help you!”
She declared.
“Master had me recruit a batch of Aolong Guard in secret. I personally selected them from martial halls across the Night Dragon Nation. They aren’t part of the royal ranks—they only take my orders. In single combat, each one is as strong as your magic girls. I’ll give them to you!”
“Let’s go find Master! She loves me the most. As long as I ask, she’ll definitely agree!”
—
The residence of the Qinglong King was not within the heavily guarded palace of the Night Dragon Nation, but in an elegant manor called Tingtao Retreat on the outskirts of the capital.
Blue tiles and white walls, streams flowing, gardens filled with rare flowers and herbs, and the air scented with medicine and tea.
A breathtakingly beautiful woman, dressed in a jade green qipao and sporting a pair of delicate dragon horns, sat at a stone table in the garden, gracefully handling a set of purple clay tea ware.
She was the only surviving guardian among the Four Dragon Kings of the Night Dragon Nation—the Qinglong King.
Also, Zhao Yingyue’s master.
Seeing Zhao Yingyue dragging Faluehir inside, the Qinglong King smiled indulgently.
“Yue’er, when will you ever learn to be less reckless?”
Her voice was like a mountain spring, warm and pleasant.
“Guests have arrived, but you don’t even let them rest or have tea.”
She said, pushing a cup of fragrant, steaming tea toward Faluehir.
“Divine Chosen, you’ve come a long way. Thank you for your effort.”
“Your Majesty Qinglong King.”
Faluehir bowed respectfully in the knight’s salute.
“Forgive me for the abrupt visit.”
“Sit.”
The Qinglong King gestured for them to sit.
Her jade green eyes, as if seeing through everything, swept over Faluehir’s weary face, then lingered on her beloved disciple with a hint of helplessness.
As soon as Zhao Yingyue sat down, she impatiently recounted Faluehir’s plight and their plan in full.
The Qinglong King listened quietly without interrupting, her expression calm as water.
When Zhao Yingyue finished and looked at her expectantly, she finally put down her teacup.
“So,”
She looked at Zhao Yingyue.
“You want to take the Aolong Guard, follow the Divine Chosen, and wade into that muddy water in Arslan?”
“Master! This isn’t muddy water!”
Zhao Yingyue protested anxiously.
“Arslan and our Night Dragon Nation are bound together! If the demon domain’s defenses fall, we’ll be affected too! We’re preventing disaster before it happens!”
“Preventing disaster?”
The Qinglong King gave a bitter smile, her tone tinged with a chill.
“Yue’er, you still see things too simply.”
She turned her gaze to the window, where the bustling capital of the Night Dragon Nation lay.
“You only see Arslan’s external threats, but not our internal troubles.”
Zhao Yingyue was stunned.
“Internal troubles? The Night Dragon Nation is peaceful—what troubles?”
The Qinglong King sighed.
“The old emperor is aged. The princes are fighting for the throne, tearing the court apart. The First Prince has the military, the Third Prince has the civil officials, and even the Fifth Prince on the frontier is raising troops. If you remove the only Aolong Guard loyal solely to you, who will stabilize the capital if chaos breaks out?”
Her words were like a bucket of cold water, instantly dousing Zhao Yingyue’s passion.
As one of the Night Dragon Nation’s top warriors and the Qinglong King’s sole heir, she was a key force balancing all factions.
If she left with her core strength, the balance could collapse.
Faluehir’s heart sank.
She knew the Qinglong King was right.
“But… Master…”
Zhao Yingyue still resisted, biting her lip, eyes full of struggle.
Seeing her, the Qinglong King felt a pang of pity.
She reached out and patted Zhao Yingyue’s hand.
“Yue’er, I know you value loyalty and emotion. But as the future general of the Night Dragon Nation, you also carry the country’s fate. You must put the greater good first.”
It was almost a death sentence.
Faluehir stood and bowed deeply to the Qinglong King.
“Your Majesty Qinglong King speaks the truth. I failed to consider everything. Then I will—”
Before she could finish, Zhao Yingyue suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud.
“Master!”
She looked up, her beautiful face full of stubbornness and determination, eyes red.
“The greater good—I understand! Responsibility—I understand too!”
“But Master, you taught me the meaning of shared fate. Arslan faces the threat of monsters and is struggling alone. The Night Dragon Nation relies on fortune to survive this chaos. If Arslan falls, who can say the monsters won’t come for us?”
“Today, my friend—my sister—is in desperate straits, alone and seeking help from me! If I let things worsen, how can I call myself a warrior of the Night Dragon Nation?”
“Master, I know our nation has its troubles. But the greater good in my heart is the continent’s, not just the Night Dragon Nation’s. The responsibility I feel is not just as a subject of the Night Dragon Nation!”