Chapter Fourteen: Princess Taiping

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Yesterday, during the royal banquet, a young maiden secretly watched from behind the palace screens. Her father, the emperor, had often said, “There is a talented youth, already the Sima of Youzhou at such a young age. If only he were born into the royal family!” At fifteen or sixteen, curiosity filled her heart, and her father’s words made her feel indignant. Girls were not allowed to attend royal feasts, so she could only sneak a peek from behind the screens.

Curious as she was, living in the palace meant she could only harbor her hazy dreams of love in her heart. Zifan’s bold ambitions, and the verses he composed about flickering candle tears and the chill of dawn through gauzy curtains, awakened her yearning for this forbidden world.

The next day,

With the golden token in hand, Zifan was eager to explore the vast palace. He hadn’t had the chance to properly tour it in modern times—how could he let this opportunity slip by now? Childlike wonder still lingered in him; he looked left and right, marveling at the palace’s endless wonders.

“Stop, you little thief over there!”

Zifan turned around, his eyes lighting up. What a charming girl! Her robes fluttered, her movements graceful; she was beautiful, refined, and about fifteen or sixteen years old. Her eyes shone with spirit, her brows were arched, her nose was straight, and dimples appeared on her cheeks, making her exceptionally lovely. The sunlight reflected off the snow, illuminating her face, rendering her skin translucent and delicate as jade. Her complexion was unusually fair, her nose higher than most girls’, and her eyes held a hint of deep blue, like the sea.

Truly, with one smile she outshone all the beauties of the palace—a stunning maiden.

Behind her stood a young servant girl dressed in green. Though not extraordinarily beautiful, she was decent enough. Judging by her attire and hair ornaments, she was likely the maid of the elegant girl in front.

“You little thief, how dare you!”

He did not bow upon seeing a member of the imperial family. The beautiful girl was a princess! Zifan smiled foolishly; if only such a companion could stay by his side, life would hold no regrets.

Snap... The princess, perhaps embarrassed by Zifan’s gaze, stomped her foot.

What’s there to look at? Really, he’s just a lecher, hmph...

The weather was perfect. The princess had just wanted to practice fencing, and now, she challenged Zifan. “You, little thief, spar with me. If you please me, I’ll let you go.”

Zifan was intrigued. He decided to play along and tease her.

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A sly glimmer flashed in the princess’s eyes as she stood firmly in place, upright as a lone pine in the snow—proud and aloof. Truly a child of the palace; her sword stance was nearly perfect, lacking only a trace of murderous intent.

Zifan’s smile faded. He grew serious and thrust his sword forward. The blade flickered like a white snake spitting venom, hissing through the air, weaving like a dragon, fluid and swift. Sometimes it was light as a swallow, leaping and darting; sometimes it struck like lightning, scattering leaves.

Clang...

“You little thief, how are you so strong? That doesn’t count, let’s go again!”

Before the words finished, the princess gripped her longsword, moving as lightly as a fledgling swallow. Her wrist twisted, and the green blade flashed like lightning, its brilliance blending with her delicate silhouette.

Zifan leapt into the air, wasted no words, and swung his sword, creating a dazzling curtain of light. The two fought fiercely.

Zifan’s swordplay grew faster, his movements agile, his murderous aura gradually surfacing. Sword energy sliced through the air, filling the world with a chilling, bleak atmosphere—a swordsman capable of slaying a man in ten steps, traversing a thousand miles without stopping.

Zifan’s mind became calmer and his technique sharper; he even managed to unleash sword energy, and with a sudden flick, knocked the princess’s sword from her hand. As he regained his senses, he realized he was too late—tears welled in the princess’s eyes.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry...” Zifan was skilled at fighting and killing, but comforting a goddess—this was beyond him. Blame his own concentration; he forgot his opponent was a young girl.

“How could you be so heartless? Don’t you know what it means to cherish beauty?” she sobbed, running away in tears.

This, this...

The little maid could only shake her head and chase after her mistress.

Perhaps muddled by anger or confusion, the princess ran toward the royal garden.

This was dangerous. The royal gardens housed many rare animals, and it was possible to encounter fierce beasts. Worse still, neither of them carried any weapons. Zifan understood the seriousness and hurried after them, anxious; if anything happened to these two, he’d pay with his life.

Following their footprints, Zifan searched swiftly. The surroundings were eerily silent; the chirping birds had suddenly stopped, small animals vanished, the whole world fell quiet.

Not good—the quieter it was, the closer danger lurked. The silence was terrifying. Zifan steadied himself, clenched his fists, and advanced cautiously.

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Roar... Roar... Roar! A tiger’s cry sliced through the sky, thunderous and awe-inspiring, darkening the heavens. Birds fled from the trees in panic, the beast’s dominance evident.

This was bad—her and her maid must have encountered a wild beast. Zifan rushed forward, running at full speed toward the sound. In the distance, he glimpsed a maiden poised defensively, clutching a golden dagger in her hand. Her robe was torn, her face glistening with sweat and determination. The green-clad maid stood protectively by her side.

Not far from them, a massive white-browed tiger leaped onto a boulder. The beast was as tall and sturdy as an ox, with a bold white mark shaped like “King” on its forehead, its body striped in black and gold, white patches on its chest, belly, and the inside of its limbs. Its fierce eyes radiated sharpness; clearly, this tiger was hungry, ready to eat, and now prey had arrived right by its mouth.

Zifan instinctively reached for his waist, only to realize—he hadn’t brought any weapons this time. Heroically rescuing beauties was his lot, but fighting a tiger barehanded was no easy task. Still, he couldn’t let such a beautiful maiden fall into a tiger’s jaws. The thought unsettled him.

The white-browed tiger roared and lunged at Princess Taiping. Zifan, without hesitation, darted forward and stood between her and the beast.

In the face of danger, Princess Taiping was overjoyed at his arrival. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground; she had never been so close to the edge of life and death. Though she appeared calm, her heart was taut with fear. The two girls clung to each other, tears streaming down their faces.

Zifan shed his long robe, revealing a sharply sculpted face, strikingly handsome, with eyes that gleamed with fierce intelligence. His gaze was piercing, his painted brows bold, his chest broad and imposing—a man with the aura of a hero. Standing there, he seemed more beastly than the tiger itself.

The two circled each other, Zifan sizing up the massive white-browed tiger. Its blood-stained mouth gaped as it scanned the area, hungry and thirsty, its body larger than any ordinary tiger—a rare specimen. Its black stripes lay still, solitary and menacing.

The tiger, driven by hunger, pressed its forepaws to the ground and pounced, leaping from mid-air with a mighty stride. Emerging from its den, it strode forward with its cruel eyes darting greedily around, its tail swinging restlessly.

The white-browed tiger lunged through the air, jaws wide, the stench hitting Zifan. He leaned back, gathering his strength, and struck at the tiger’s head. The beast twisted in mid-air, dodged, and pounced again. Zifan couldn’t evade in time; victory or defeat hung in the balance. The tiger tore a gash in his side, a burning pain flaring at his left rib.

Yet the tiger didn’t emerge unscathed; blood streamed from its head. Having learned its lesson, the beast held back, waiting for the right moment. Suddenly, it attacked—Zifan steeled himself, his heart ablaze. He seized the tiger’s head with one hand, grabbed its tail with the other, and with a burst of strength—crack!—the tiger’s spine, throat, and neck snapped almost simultaneously, blood pouring out...

Breathing heavily, Zifan’s eyes still shone fiercely. He threw his head back and roared at the heavens, as if proclaiming his supremacy.