From Zhuge Yu Jin's Perspective
The Wu Dynasty, as Yu Jin quickly realized, had a curious habit — solving problems through battle.
He came to that conclusion just a few minutes after Miss Yue accepted his terms for the duel.
Everything — absolutely everything — was reorganized with a kind of military efficiency that genuinely impressed him.
In less than fifteen minutes, the throne room was cleared, guards moved like well-oiled gears, and the grand audience was relocated to an inner arena beside the main hall.
No bureaucracy, no speeches, no tedious ceremony.
The Wu Dynasty didn't waste time.
If someone wanted to fight, the whole empire would know before sunset.
Yu Jin found that admirable — and dangerously entertaining.
The arena itself was simple, yet carried the same air of grandeur as the rest of the palace.
A circular space surrounded by black columns etched with ancient inscriptions and spiritual sealing runes — the kind of formation that allowed serious fights without collapsing the roof over the spectators' heads.
The stone floor bore scars of past duels — sword marks, burn traces, and cracked tiles.
From the raised stands, the emperor's sons, generals, and martial masters watched in silence.
And at the center stood her.
Wu Xian Yue.
The girl who had challenged him before the entire court now waited, calm and focused, like someone about to face a mortal enemy.
There wasn't a hint of hesitation in her.
No nervous gestures. No sign of fear.
She held her sword firmly, blade lowered toward the ground — the posture of someone who knew how to control her own rhythm.
Her red hair, tied only by a white jade ring, swayed lightly with each gust of wind, and the metallic gleam of her blade reflected the grayish blue of her eyes.
She still wore her training clothes.
No ornaments, no veils, no ribbons.
The same practical outfit from the earlier meeting.
It was almost poetic — and slightly intimidating — how ready she seemed from the very beginning.
Yu Jin couldn't help but smile.
Interesting.
The truth was, he wasn't even sure he wanted to marry her.
Not yet.
She was intriguing, no doubt about that — but marriage was too heavy a commitment, even for someone who treated life with the same lightheartedness he reserved for a good fight.
His reason for accepting the duel and keeping the contract wasn't romantic at all.
It was pure instinct.
Fun.
Under different circumstances, he would've simply walked away.
That would've been easy.
A sudden trip, some flimsy excuse — and done. Contract broken, reputation damaged, problem solved.
Best of all, he'd even have the perfect argument to throw at his family.
He could already picture the scene.
"I tried, but my dignity was crushed in that militarized court..."
A perfect excuse.
Dramatic enough to fool his mother, absurd enough to irritate Su Yeon.
But this time, he decided to stay.
Not because he was in love.
Not because he believed in fate.
But because Wu Xian Yue amused him.
And, more than that — she intrigued him.
She wasn't gentle.
She wasn't submissive.
And, honestly, she didn't seem afraid to die.
A temperament like that would be a refreshing change from the glacial boredom of Zhuge Island.
If he took her with him, maybe things would finally become less predictable.
Maybe, with her around, even calm days could feel bearable again.
And when the time came, he'd have the perfect excuse to disappear once more.
"I have to take her back home..."
A convenient pretext to flee the empire and his duties — just as he always did.
Yes. It was an excellent plan.
Simple, chaotic, and above all, fun.
But to make it work, he had to win.
Yu Jin lifted his gaze again.
The girl was still watching him intently.
Her face calm, but her eyes… her eyes studied him with unnerving precision.
It wasn't just the kind of gaze that saw — it read.
As if she were calculating every possible movement before he even decided to move.
The way she held her sword, adjusted her breathing, how her body stayed relaxed yet ready to strike — everything about her screamed discipline.
Yu Jin knew how to recognize a dangerous opponent.
And standing before her, he felt a sharp certainty — underestimating her would be a fatal mistake.
Curiously, that thought only made his grin widen.
Because nothing thrilled him more than a fight that could truly burn.
He rolled his shoulders, stretched his neck, the smile growing into something playful.
The faint clang of metal rang as his hand brushed against the empty sheath at his belt — he carried no sword. He didn't need one.
Her eyes narrowed.
He raised an eyebrow.
The girl's brother — a man with a stern expression and a commanding voice — stepped forward and raised his arm.
Silence fell.
Only the cold wind that whistled through the columns seemed to move.
"Begin!"
The word cracked like the snap of a blade.
Yue didn't wait a single heartbeat.
The instant the judge lowered his arm, she surged forward — fast, precise, fierce.
No hesitation, no taunts, no testing moves.
The Wu girl attacked like someone who had trained her entire life for this.
The spiritual sword flared in her hand, tracing a clean arc of silver and wind, the strike coming from the left — straight and merciless.
Yu Jin didn't move his feet.
He merely tilted his body aside, letting the blade sweep past him as lightly as a falling leaf.
The strike missed.
But she didn't stop.
The follow-up came instantly — a second slash, then a third, each movement flowing with the grace of a river of steel.
She twisted her wrist, changed direction, slid her right foot forward, and cut diagonally, adjusting her rhythm with every breath.
It was a dance of precision.
Each strike carried purpose, technique, and deadly intent — any one of them enough to defeat an ordinary opponent.
But Yu Jin was far from ordinary.
He didn't counter.
Didn't raise a fist or retreat.
He simply moved.
Dodging.
Turning.
Tilting.
A step back, a half-step to the side — her blade sliced the air, fast enough to blur, yet always missing him by mere inches.
She fought like a blade forged in discipline.
He moved like fire slipping through fingers.
The contrast was almost poetic.
And every time her sword came close enough to slice a strand of his hair, Yu Jin smiled a little more.
Not out of mockery — but pure delight.
She's good, he thought. But she still doesn't know what she's up against.
Her eyes burned with focus.
The serenity of her face gave way to intensity — brows drawn, lips tight, breath quickening.
She wasn't tired, only frustrated.
Yu Jin spun again, dodging another slash, the metallic echo of her blade trailing behind him.
"Fast," he murmured under his breath, "but still predictable."
She moved again — a vertical strike aimed at his shoulder.
He simply turned on his heel and stepped aside, feeling the cold wind of her blade brush against his skin.
Then, when she drew back to adjust her stance, Yu Jin stopped.
He just stood there, watching her.
Their eyes met.
The sounds of the crowd, the murmurs, the wind — all seemed to fade away.
The girl's chest rose and fell with sharp breaths, her body still poised to attack, eyes cold and unwavering, searching for any sign of weakness in him.
But Yu Jin said nothing.
He only smiled.
A calm, confident, teasing smile.
And that alone was enough to ignite something inside her.
Yue tightened her grip on the sword.
The floor cracked beneath her step as she lunged again — the blade flashing diagonally, fast and sure —
and Yu Jin, once more, danced around her as if gravity itself had no claim over him.
It was like watching a duel between the rigidity of steel and the weightlessness of flame.
And so far, the flame remained untouched.