Chapter 13: Farewell to Alva

The next morning, golden sunlight pierced through the mist.

In a farmhouse courtyard, soldiers sat in small groups, munching on flatbreads and dipping them into the broth in earthenware bowls.

The door to the house in the middle of the courtyard opened, and a young woman stepped out.

She stood on the lawn of the courtyard, as if she had stepped out of an ancient mural. Her high, straight nose resembled that of an eagle sculpted by the wind, and beneath her distinct eyebrows were eyes as deep as the night. Her entire body radiated an amber-like copper glow. Her cascading black hair fell to her waist, each strand tinged with the golden glow of the desert. She wore a flowing indigo-blue robe, and when the hem fluttered in the wind, it revealed her sculpted, muscular calves. The silver scabbard of the sword at her waist glinted in the sunlight, while she kept one hand behind her back and gently lifted her veil with the other, revealing a smile sharper than a dagger, as if she could tame the swirling sandstorms under the edge of her sword. The silver bells wrapped around her ankles trembled with each step, each stride exuding the majesty of a warrior. Her towering figure seemed even more imposing in the morning breeze.

Wahan stared at her blankly, as if he had forgotten the piece of bread still in his mouth. Suddenly, as if remembering something, Wahan coughed uncontrollably.

Lamtuo patted his back repeatedly with his left hand, but kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.

Lada shook her head, glancing back and forth between the woman and Wahan.

"Oh no, oh no, this is bad..." Zana muttered incessantly.

Zayan had already put down the pancake in his hand, holding the sword scabbard in his right hand, and slowly pulling out a long spear with his left hand from the dilapidated cart.

Boge held a long sword in his right hand, and his left hand reached out as if to hand another long sword to Wahan.

Before the others could react, the woman had already approached them.

Wahan quickly spit out the flatbread in his mouth and took the sword. Lamtuo, Rada, and Zana stood on either side, each holding a weapon.

"What?! Am I more terrifying than the soldiers of the Southern Empire? More ruthless than bandits and outlaws?" The woman placed her right hand on the hilt of her knife at her waist and spoke calmly, "Are all of you planning to rebel?!"

The soldiers eating in the courtyard watched the scene in silence. Upon hearing the word "rebellion," they all quickly grabbed their weapons. The veteran soldiers advanced with their swords, surrounding the group.

"What are you panicking for? Step back!" Alva shouted harshly.

The soldiers stopped advancing, took a few steps back, but kept their weapons raised.

Wahan glanced at the woman and the surrounding soldiers, then immediately knelt on one knee, thrusting his long sword into the ground and resting his hands on the hilt.

"Put down your weapons at once!" Wahan said calmly, tilting his head.

Ramtu and the others exchanged glances before slowly lowering their weapons and kneeling on one knee.

"Sir, we were disrespectful earlier. Please forgive us."

"Was it you who were disrespectful, or all of you?"

"It was me. I am willing to accept punishment."

"Very well. But what about my men drawing their swords at me? How should that be handled?!"

"I will take full responsibility."

Those around him watched as Wahan extended his left hand and pressed it downward.

"You must die," the woman said.

Lam Tuo and the others gripped their weapons tightly, glancing around with the corners of their eyes.

"I can die, but please spare them, my lord."

"Do you know why you must die?"

"You were disrespectful to your superior, and then you drew your sword."

"Wrong. The soldiers under my command do not listen to me, but are always ready to fight to the death for you. Do you think you deserve to die?"

"You deserve to die," said Wahan, raising his long sword above his head and looking down at the woman pacing back and forth in front of him.

"You wanted to fight, didn't you? If you beat me, I'll spare them," the woman said, drawing her dagger.

Wahan and the others stood up and stepped back.

Wahan turned to look at the others, but just as he was about to turn away, Ramto grabbed his arm. Ramto took a chain-link glove from his pocket and slipped it onto Wahan's left hand. The glove had been taken from the body of a tall soldier from the Southern Empire. It was made of small iron rings linked together in a chain.

Wahan walked toward the center of the courtyard with his sword in his right hand.

"Let the betting begin. Who do you think will win?" Nadim shouted to the surrounding soldiers from outside the mud-brick wall, then drew two circles on the ground, with "Woman Wins" and "Man Wins" written inside each circle.

The soldiers beside him heard this and began pulling out dinars from inside their clothes.

"Of course the lady will win," an old soldier said, placing all his dinars in the circle marked "woman wins."

The soldiers around him also placed their dinars in the circle marked "woman wins," whispering about the battle situation.

"What, aren't you going to bet?" Nadim said to Parla, who was standing beside him.

" Watch out for the whip," Parla said without turning his head, watching the situation in the courtyard.

Rada no longer stared at the courtyard but rushed toward the mud-brick wall.

Upon seeing that there were only a few dinars in the "Men Win" circle, Rada angrily said, "Forget it! If I'm going to die anyway, what's the point of keeping the dinars? Let's bet big."

Immediately, Rada decisively placed all the dinars on his body in the "Men Win" circle.

"Good lad, for that bold statement, I'll follow you too," Nadim said, pulling out the dinars from his body and placing them in the men's winning circle.

A group of people gathered around the mud-brick wall, watching the two armed combatants.

Wahan wielded a sword, and the woman wielded a knife, both slashing at each other.

Swords and knives clashed, sparks flying.

Wahan repeatedly raised his long sword above his head and swung it down, but the woman blocked each strike with her dagger.

When the long sword swung horizontally, the curved knife blocked sideways, then slid forward along the long sword, as if to sever the sword-wielding hands. At that moment, the sword-wielding arms quickly retracted, and the sword hilt was raised to block in the opposite direction.

The curved sword plunged downward with force, then swiftly raised again, delivering a heavy strike.

Wahan sidestepped to avoid it, immediately retreating to create distance, his long sword pointing directly at the opponent's waist.

The woman paced back and forth.

The long sword thrust forward with force. The curved blade struck the sword tip, causing the blade to tilt to one side. Before the long sword could be pulled back, a kick struck Wahan's right hipbone.

Wahan stumbled backward, retreating several steps before regaining his balance. The woman swiftly ran forward, swinging the curved blade downward in a straight strike.

In an instant, Wahan's back was pressed against the dilapidated cart, his left hand curled up against his chest, tightly gripping the curved blade's shaft. The chain-link gloves wrapped around the blade's shaft, the friction between the metal parts sending a chill down one's spine. Though he had blocked the strike, the curved blade's force was too great, and it still struck his shoulder, blood seeping through the torn clothing.

In the blink of an eye, Wahan grabbed the curved blade with his left hand, twisted it to the left, and swiftly raised his right foot to kick the woman in the abdomen with all his might.

Whether it was because the chain mail had jammed the curved blade or because she couldn't dodge the kick in time, the woman couldn't pull the curved blade back and stumbled backward. At that moment, Wahan dropped the sword with his right hand, thrust his back against the dilapidated cart, used the momentum to sprint forward, and grabbed the woman's arm with his right hand, pulling her back in front of him. The black veil fell before him.

Wahan grabbed the woman's right arm with his right hand and pressed her right hand against her abdomen, holding her in front of him; with his left hand, he raised the curved blade horizontally, placing it against her neck.

Her delicate features were exposed before his eyes. He stared at the woman in disbelief, unable to comprehend how such a beautiful woman could be so ruthless. If it weren't for her relentless attacks, he wouldn't have considered taking her hostage.