Chapter 17: The Disgrace of Hu Bai

Chapter 17: The Disgrace of Hu Bai

The drums of war thundered across the arena in heavy, solemn beats, their echoes reverberating through the air. Nobles and commoners from both kingdoms fixed their eyes on the tall figure clad in full armor, who strode toward the center of the dueling stage with unshakable resolve.

It was General Yao Lijun, the representative of the Qi Kingdom—a seasoned warrior with countless battles behind him. His jet-black armor glinted coldly under the sun, his broad chest and imposing stature reminiscent of a war god of old. His scar-laced visage bore testimony to decades of warfare. Yet it was his deep, dark eyes—brimming with unwavering will—that truly conveyed his strength.

In his hands, he held his weapon of choice: a glaive, which had tasted blood on many a battlefield. The blade shimmered ominously, as though imbued with the ghosts of wars past. The crowd knew—this glaive in General Yao's grasp was a harbinger of death.

Opposite him emerged the warrior of Chu—Hu Bai, stepping into the arena with thunderous, deliberate strides.

Hu Bai was the mightiest warrior of the Chu Kingdom—towering, muscular, a man whose physique seemed carved from stone. His thick arms bulged with raw power, his dark bronze skin a testament to relentless training. His deep brown eyes burned with aggression.

"Hu Bai of Chu, ready to duel!"

he bellowed, brandishing his massive battle axe—an enormous weapon far heavier than Yao's glaive. In terms of sheer strength, Hu Bai held the advantage.

But war, after all, is not waged on strength alone.

"General Yao, are you truly certain you wish to fight me?"Hu Bai asked, his low laugh echoing.

Yao Lijun merely smirked and replied with steel in his voice:

"In war, there is no certainty—only victory or death."

His grip on the glaive tightened. Despite Hu Bai's formidable presence, the general stood calm and confident, as though already seeing the path to triumph before him.

The drums sounded again.

A duel of honor was about to begin.

A hush swept the wide arena, the wind brushing across the stone floor. Thousands of eyes watched Hu Bai—the famed brute of Chu. He was like a mountain, his axe smeared with the blood of countless fallen foes, his gaze dripping with contempt.

"Yao Lijun, do you truly think you stand a chance?"He laughed again."I recall you retreating time and again in our last border skirmish. Your soldiers surrendered before I even lifted my hand!"

The laughter stirred whispers among the spectators. But General Yao's cold smile never wavered. He gripped his glaive with quiet fury and replied evenly:

"This is a contest of skill, not slander. War in the field is not the same as man-to-man combat."

His eyes gleamed like a honed blade.

"That battle… was crippled by internal politics. My soldiers were starved of supplies. We were not given the chance to fight at full strength. But today…"

He stepped forward, glaive raised into a ready stance.

"…I will show you the true strength of General Yao."

Hu Bai narrowed his eyes. His smirk faded.

Tension gripped the arena. Both sides clutched their weapons, bracing for the battle to explode at any moment.

But then—a calm, resonant voice broke through the tension:

"A true warrior knows the worth of his blade."

All eyes turned.

Qi Dongyang, or Li Feitian, stepped gracefully onto the dueling platform. Clad in flowing white, he exuded calm and cunning. In one hand, he held a wine jar. In the other, a calligraphy brush.

"A hero is not merely the victor—but one remembered in legend."

He paused—then recited in a clear, sonorous voice:

In snowbound wilds, a tiger prowls—mighty and unshaken,Its eyes, twin flames, burn with undying fire.Ivory fangs gleam beneath moon-kissed sky,Let none who dare challenge it hope to escape its claws.

The tiger fears not the eagle's dive,For its roar shakes forest, mountain, sky alike.Not even dragons command such beasts,True warriors fight with spirit pure and pride unbowed.

The snow-born tiger is no fleeting shadow,But a beast that carves its fate alone.It needs no spring to bloom anew—Each step it takes is a stride toward legend.

A general, like the tiger, is not defined by steel,But by the heart that never yields.He who stands firm—He alone is the true tiger of war!

As the final verse rang out, silence fell. No one dared speak, waiting to see if more would follow. Then—thunderous applause rippled through the crowd.

General Yao's head lifted high, his cheeks flushed with passion, his eyes alight with purpose. His boots struck the stone like the drumbeat of a warrior's heart.

"An excellent poem,"he said, gripping his glaive tighter.

Qi Dongyang's smile was slight, deliberate.

"General Yao… you have not forgotten the tiger's path, have you?"

Yao laughed aloud, his spirit rekindled.

"Of course not! I—Yao Lijun—am the tiger of Qi!"

His voice rang through the courtyard.

Hu Bai clenched his jaw, a growl rising in his throat.

"Do you think your flowery verse will shake me?"

Qi Dongyang took a sip of wine, his voice light and teasing.

"Not at all. I merely wanted to remind you… who the real tiger is."

Hu Bai's teeth ground together. His knuckles whitened around his axe.

The tension peaked.

General Yao readied his stance.

The true duel was moments away.

But then—

"Wait."

The deep voice of Li Feitian rang once more. He had not yet left the platform, and the crowd froze in suspense. Hu Bai, about to charge, turned toward him with a glare.

The people of Qi leaned forward, hoping for another poetic blow from their prince.

"Prince Qi! How long will you keep provoking me?"Hu Bai barked.

But Li Feitian did not reply. Instead, he glanced sideways—at Yao Ningjian, the elder Yao daughter. She made a subtle hand gesture.

His smile grew.

He took a long swig of wine, then laughed heartily, stepping forward again and saluting the Chu warrior.

"This duel is a matter of warrior's pride. I've praised General Yao in verse—should I not now honor Hu Bai as well?"

Hu Bai raised an eyebrow.

"Is this mockery?"

"Heavens, no."Li Feitian's grin deepened, unsettling.

And then—with a flourish of his brush, he began his next poem:

Deep within the forest's shrouded veil,A tiger claims the mountain throne.Though storms may rage, it stands alone,Unbending as the stone beneath its paws.

Yet in the shade, a shadow lurks—A cunning fox with silent tread,Lurking for weakness, a sliver of chance,To strike when the mighty falter.

Fox, you are no dragon, no noble beast,You bite when backs are turned.You slink in dirt, you prey on frailty,And pounce when blood has dried.

Courage is not measured by your roar,But by the truths you face.The fox will never match the tiger's climb—It writes no legend, only cowardice.

If you are bold, then leave your shadowed hole,And fight with blade, not trickery.A fox remains a fox—stripped of illusion,Would you still believe yourself the hunter?

As the final word faded, silence enveloped the arena.

Hu Bai's face flushed scarlet. A vein pulsed at his temple.

Everyone understood—Prince Qi had just likened him to a sly fox: opportunistic, dishonorable.

"Prince Qi!"Hu Bai roared, fists trembling around his axe."You…!"

Li Feitian laughed softly, feigning innocence.

"What? You didn't like it? I only meant to honor you…"

He turned to the Chu ministers, sighing.

"How unfortunate. I composed that poem to celebrate Chu's great warrior."

The ministers shifted uncomfortably. Even the soldiers whispered—had Hu Bai truly earned this rebuke?

Enraged, Hu Bai slammed his axe against the stone floor.

"I'll crush that man!"

He stomped toward Li Feitian, blind with fury—but General Yao stepped in, glaive at the ready.

"Calm yourself, Hu Bai. Your opponent is me."

Li Feitian waved breezily as he descended the stage.

"Don't waste your strength on me. Save it for your true match—General Yao."

His cryptic smile lingered in the minds of all present.

Hu Bai seethed. Yao Lijun stood poised. Yet no one knew what game Prince Qi had just played.

From the sidelines, Yao Ningjian and Yao Ninghe exchanged knowing smiles.

"Qi Dongyang is as cunning as ever,"Ninghe whispered.

"He is, after all, the Ninth Prince,"Ningjian replied—calm, but filled with admiration.

As for Li Feitian, he sat back, wine in hand, eyes gleaming like blades in the sun.

He knew: the battle had already begun—long before any blades were crossed.

This duel was never merely about martial prowess—

It was a war of wits, a contest of cunning designed to shatter an opponent's will before the first blow was struck.

And Li Feitian—had already made his move.

"Hu Bai! Strike now! Do not give them the chance to gain the upper hand!"

The voice of Princess Chu Xiuying thundered across the arena.

She gritted her teeth, her eyes aflame with fury she could no longer contain. Since the humiliating defeat of her royal preceptor at Qi Dongyang's hands, she had come to understand the truth—this man was no mere scholar with a silver tongue. He was a master manipulator who could throw an entire battlefield into disarray with but a few words.

Letting him continue would only worsen the situation.

Hu Bai clenched his axe, teeth grinding. His face twisted with rage—so intense it seemed it might consume him from within.

"I'll tear you apart!"

he roared, preparing to charge General Yao.

But then—

"Urgh..."

His expression suddenly shifted. His breath caught in his throat. A strange, churning sensation rose from within his gut. The man, who had once stood like an unshakable mountain, now quivered like a leaf in a storm.

What… what is this?!

Sweat beaded on his hands, slicking the axe's grip. His powerful frame seized in discomfort.

No—this wasn't fear.

It was...

"Ugh! UGH!"

His eyes widened in horror. The anger that had moments ago contorted his face now drained into a ghostly pallor. His bowels twisted like a storm-swept sea. A pressure rose—urgent, unstoppable.

No… not now. Not here!

He froze, unable to lift a foot. One step—just half a step—and disaster would erupt for all the world to witness.

From below the stage, Li Feitian sipped his wine lazily, eyes fixed on Hu Bai with an unreadable gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"Hmm? Did I say something wrong?"

His voice was soft—but somehow loud enough for the entire arena to hear. The Yao sisters stepped beside him, silent witnesses to the unfolding spectacle.

Whispers stirred in the crowd:

"What's wrong with Hu Bai?""Why isn't he attacking?""Is… is he afraid?"

The murmurs were daggers to the pride of the Chu warrior.

"Hu Bai! Attack him!"

Princess Chu's voice rang out again. Her brow was tightly knit in confusion.

"...Or are you afraid?"

Rage flared anew in Hu Bai. The shame and fury made him forget the chaos inside his body.

"I am NOT afraid!"

he bellowed, forcing his leg to move forward.

But—

"Urgh!!"

The moment he moved, it hit him like a tidal wave.

His body locked. His intestines twisted as though wrung by an invisible hand. Sweat poured down his face.

No! Not now!

He clenched every muscle.

"Ugh…"

His eyes widened, his face contorted—like a man forced to swallow poison.

Now he knew—

This was no fear. This was poison.

He had been struck.

"What troubles you, Lord Hu Bai?"Li Feitian's voice floated gently.

"...Or are you withdrawing from the duel?"

The arena fell into stunned silence.

Even General Yao cast a sidelong glance at the prince, clearly perplexed.

Princess Chu's hands clenched into fists. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What is happening...?"

Under the bright sun, murmurs began to rise again.

This—this was the worst humiliation imaginable for a warrior like Hu Bai.

He tried desperately to resist, to suppress the storm within him—but the pressure only built, relentless.

"Ah! Look!"

"His… his backside!"

Before Hu Bai could react, cries of disbelief erupted from the stands.

"Gods! That smell—!"

And then—

PPRRRTTT!!

"AAARGH!!"

A foul torrent erupted from him—unstoppable, unforgiving. His dark trousers became soaked in an expanding stain. Brown liquid trickled from his pants down to the polished stones of the dueling floor.

The stench—a deathly rot like decaying corpses—swept across the arena. Nobles gagged, covering their faces. Some turned away in revulsion. Others doubled over, retching violently.

"He… he really did it!"

"Hu Bai… soiled himself!"

"He SHAT HIMSELF!"

"The mighty warrior of Chu—defecating on the dueling stage!!"

Laughter, gasps, and cries of disbelief exploded through the crowd. Some were paralyzed by shock. Others clutched their sides, tears streaming from their eyes.

The stain on the dueling ground was now permanent—etched not in blood, but in disgrace.

General Yao stepped back instinctively, face frozen in disbelief. He had seen men dismembered on the battlefield—but never this.

"Hu Bai… you…"

He opened his mouth, but no words came. He merely held his breath, stunned.

There stood the famed strongman of Chu—trembling, his expression twisted in shame. His massive axe slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground.

Princess Chu Xiuying stood up in horror, unable to believe her own eyes.

"No! This is madness!"

Her face turned pale. She had braced for defeat—but never imagined this.

Her fists clenched so tightly her nails drew blood. Her eyes quivered with a storm of emotions—rage, shame, despair.

"How… how can this be?"

"Hu Bai! What have you done?!"

She screamed—but Hu Bai had no answer.

He knew this shame would follow him for the rest of his life.

From the sidelines, Li Feitian watched it all unfold with a slight smile. His eyes glinted with quiet amusement—and cruel satisfaction.

He lifted his wine jar and sipped slowly before speaking in a smooth, razor-edged tone:

"Ah… and I had thought you a ferocious tiger of the battlefield. Turns out… you're just a cowardly little cat."

He folded his arms, smiling.

"To think… the mighty warrior of Chu would tremble so before our old General Yao."

His words were calm—but each one stabbed at Chu's pride like a dagger.

"Defeat is not shameful…"

he continued.

"...but I've never in my life heard of a warrior who lost control of his bowels in the middle of a duel."

More laughter erupted from the crowd. Some tried to hold back—but many failed.

"Hahaha!"

Laughter rang out, some chortling till tears fell, some pounding tables as they wheezed.

Even General Yao had to cover his mouth, though his shoulders shook visibly.

Whispers spread like wildfire. Princess Chu's knuckles turned white as she glared at Prince Qi.

"What trickery is this, Qi Dongyang?!"

He glanced at her briefly, his smile deepening.

Then, in a slow, measured voice:

"I did nothing…"

He paused.

"…But perhaps you should speak with the Chu army's head chef. How unfortunate—this may be his final day in the kitchens."

Chu Xiuying's eyes widened. She tried to hold her composure, but one glance at her prized warrior—collapsed, reeking, humiliated—shattered all her defenses.

"Enough!"

she roared.

Her fists trembled with fury.

"The martial duel… is lost. Qi Kingdom is the victor."

Her voice was choked with fury and humiliation.

Qi Dongyang feigned a regretful smile.

"My apologies if we caused you any… discomfort."

And thus—the duel that all had anticipated… ended without a single blow exchanged.

And the Kingdom of Chu—

Was utterly, irreparably defeated.

To be continued...