Finest Servant Chapter 598 (Patreon)

Chapter 598 Astonishing Archery Skills

The bustling grasslands suddenly turned as calm as a placid lake, punctuated only by the sound of countless hurried breaths. Every Turkic person focused intently on the radiant face of their Great Khan, their eyes unblinking, afraid to miss an extraordinary moment. Standing next to his sister, Young Khan Salmu clenched his hands in anxiety.

Yujia looked especially beautiful as she concentrated, slowly pulling the bowstring to its limit. Her golden arrow shimmered under the sunlight, glowing brilliantly.

With a soft twang, the bowstring vibrated. At that moment, everyone's breath seemed to stop.

The golden arrow drew a graceful arc in the air, breaking through the atmosphere, aimed straight for the rope suspending the sheep's body.

‘Is she going to sever the rope with a single arrow? Even Little Khan can do that; how can she surpass Tursun by repeating the same feat?’ Lin Wanrong shook his head, somewhat disappointed.

The sharp arrow flew past with a whistling sound. When it was about forty or fifty feet from the rope, it appeared to lose power and began to fall. A collective sigh swept over the grasslands. Neither the Turks nor the people of Great Hua could bear to watch; they lowered their heads, unwilling to witness this nearly cruel spectacle.

Yujia's face lit up with a smile as she pulled the bowstring again. This time it was quick and powerful; the string hummed resonantly. A piercing sound echoed as the second golden arrow shot forth from the bow. Like a meteor piercing the sky, it chased after the first arrow.

With a crisp clang, the sound of metal vibrating filled everyone's ears.

The second arrow spun at several times the speed of the first, perfectly hitting its tail. The first arrow, which had been losing its momentum, was suddenly infused with tremendous energy. The two arrows fused into one and hit the rope dead center, causing the suspended sheep to quiver and fall to the ground, splattering juices everywhere.

The grassland fell into an eerie silence. Even the most formidable Turkic warriors were dumbstruck.

Young Khan Salmu began to tremble uncontrollably, clutching his sister's hand and bursting into loud sobs. He was, after all, just a five or six-year-old child, unable to bear such intense, oppressive atmosphere. The fact that he didn't wet his pants was already remarkable.

Hearing Salmu's cries, Yujia was momentarily flustered. She quickly crouched down and whispered comforting words, her eyes filled with tenderness.

Only then did the surrounding nomads awaken from their daze. A tidal wave of applause erupted, and cheers reached for the skies.

"An incredible 'Two Stars Chasing the Moon' technique, Yujia, you're remarkable!" Even Hu Bugui and Gao Qiu couldn't help but clap their hands in celebration, their faces flushed with excitement. Cheering for an enemy woman was unimaginable in the past, but today it happened naturally.

If Yujia had previously won over her tribe with her beauty and wisdom, this moment proved her exceptional archery skills, a symbol of martial prowess. Her 'Two Stars Chasing the Moon' was even more difficult than Tursun's 'Arrow Through the Goose's Eye,' especially considering it came from the hands of a gentle woman. In light of these two arrows, the Right Prince paled in comparison.

Rising to her feet with Young Khan Salmu, Yujia waved to her subjects. The Turkic people kneeled in deep respect, wholeheartedly accepting the beautiful Great Khan.

‘So this young girl has been hiding so many secrets, pretending to be pitiable in front of me. Thankfully, I didn't fall for her tricks.’ Lin Wanrong snorted in indignation. His heart was a complex mix of both joy and sorrow. If Yueya’er had one flaw, it was that she was born a woman.

"I wonder how Yujia mastered her archery skills," Old Hu shook his head and sighed. "Legend has it that our Great Hua's founding general, Marshal Li Taiyuan, possessed an unparalleled skill—the ability to shoot three arrows in a rapid succession, each hitting the target. But that's just a legend; I've never seen it with my own eyes. Yet here, 'Two Stars Chasing the Moon' appeared right before me, executed by a Turkic woman, no less. It's truly humbling."

"Brother Lin, in the realm of archery, you've fallen behind Yujia," Old Gao chuckled.

"In underhanded techniques, I've never been outdone," Lin Wanrong smirked. "Besides, each has their own strengths and weaknesses. Yujia might be better than me at archery, but my skills with the spear are not to be underestimated. We're even, in that sense."

Hu Bugui nodded, "True, true. Arrows are effective at a distance, while spears excel in close combat. Each has its own merits."

"But you know, I've always been eager to learn," Lin Wanrong said earnestly. "In order to not be looked down upon by Yueya'er, when I return home, I'll practice archery diligently. A hundred arrows a day, shot left and right. Forget 'Two Stars Chasing the Moon' or 'Three Consecutive Arrows,' with my natural aptitude as a marksman, there's no way I'll miss!"

Old Gao and Hu Bugui couldn't help but burst into laughter at his bravado.

From the moment the Great Khan shot the rope and the fat sheep hit the ground, the competition had officially begun.

Tursun, proud of his 'Arrow Through the Goose's Eye' archery skill, found himself outclassed by Yujia's 'Two Stars Chasing the Moon' in front of everyone. All the Turkic people were buzzing with excitement about the Great Khan's miraculous archery. The face of Tursun turned sour; he was renowned for his courage and had planned to win over the Great Khan at this sheep snatching competition. But one careless move cost him the competition, and he lost to the very woman he admired. How would his people see him now? What would Yujia think? How could he now conquer the beautiful and prestigious Great Khan?

The more he thought, the angrier he became. Tursun let out a ferocious yell, spurred his horse into a meteoric gallop, and charged out. His heroic face was full of lethal intent; he was determined to vent all his pent-up frustration in the sheep snatching competition.

When the Right Prince charged, he was indeed extraordinary. He and his tribesmen were all seasoned warriors with exceptional riding skills. When the dozen of them charged together, they appeared like a loosed arrow, unmatched in speed.

The other two tribes were not to be outdone. Although slightly slower, they were prepared. Just as Tursun was about to grab the sheep, a tribesman from one of the competing tribes swiftly shot a barbed hook attached to a rope, embedding it into the sheep's body.

"Roar—" The warriors shouted in excitement, pulling hard on the rope to lift the sheep. But suddenly, they felt an immense force coming from the other end. Despite the strength of three men pulling together, the rope wouldn't budge an inch.

Tursun grasped the rope single-handedly and coiled it around his arm, sitting motionless atop his horse. In the tense standoff, he suddenly unleashed a ferocious roar. With a swift yank of his arm, he pulled the rope taut with immense force. The three nomads on the opposing side had no time to react before they were thrown off their horses.

"Truly extraordinary strength from the Right Prince!" The onlooking nomads cheered loudly, applauding Tursun.

Picking up the sheep with one hand, Tursun swung his broadsword and charged. His tribesmen followed closely, fast as lightning. Instead of heading toward the finish line, they aimed directly at the opponents in front of them. The surrounding nomads first paused, puzzled, then jumped up excitedly, shouting Tursun's name.

Running away with the sheep was not the Right Prince's style. He sought to defeat his opponents through sheer martial prowess before gallantly charging to the finish line. This way, he would redeem his earlier loss to Yujia. Such bravado and confidence were precisely what the Turkic people loved to see. The crowd erupted in cheers; everyone was hollering for Tursun.

The Right Prince's confidence was rooted in strength. Each of his warriors was formidable, ten times the match for any average opponent. Wielding their swords ruthlessly and with the fiercest of killing intent, they were like wolves among sheep, not caring who their opponents were.

For the other two tribes, the Right Prince's actions were nothing short of blatant provocation and insult. But in the grasslands, strength spoke loudest. Regardless of how fierce their resistance, the outcome would remain unchanged.

When all the opponents had been unhorsed, Tursun held the sheep in one hand and his sword aloft in the other, advancing slowly. At the finish line, countless Turkic people waited to cheer him on.

"Damn, this kid is too arrogant." The crowd of Turkic people swarmed towards the Right Prince, leaving the previously celebrated Yuezhi instantly ignored. The contrast was so drastic that Old Gao couldn't help but curse. Their earlier win had been a victory of tactics, but the Right Prince’s secret was simple and straightforward—bravery, ruthlessness, and victory through force. Clearly, the Turks preferred this direct and thrilling approach.

While soaking in the cheers, the Right Prince didn't forget to glance at the grandstand. The Great Khan waved at him with a subtle look of admiration and reverence in her eyes. Tursun felt invigorated, placing one hand on his chest as he bowed respectfully from a distance to Yujia.

"Surely Tursun won't be participating in the next round," said General Lin, waving his hand as if ready to send Old Hu to draw lots for another match. However, he saw the Right Prince and his cavalry slowly move to the center of the grasslands and take their places at the starting line again, looking around arrogantly.

"What's going on?!" Lin Wanrong hastily pulled Old Hu back.

Old Hu scanned the scene, astonished. "Are they going for back-to-back rounds? Has Tursun gone mad?"

Victors from previous rounds could choose to continue or take a rest to conserve energy. Given that a single loss meant elimination, nearly every winner opted for rest. To choose consecutive rounds, like Tursun, was virtually to challenge all the tribes on the grasslands—a clear sign of overconfidence.

Lin Wanrong nodded, smiling. "He's quite clear-headed, actually. He's planning to assert his martial prowess through continuous victories, thereby reclaiming his prestige in front of his tribespeople and Yujia."

Upon hearing this, everyone understood. Old Gao chuckled, "If he's so tough, let him stand in the arena and keep fighting. Let's see how long this kid can last."

Old Gao's joke made Hu Bugui suddenly tense. "Given Tursun's temperament, if he goes berserk, nobody can defeat him. If he decides to stay in the arena, and we still need one more victory—"

The more they thought about it, the more alarmed they became. Considering the great temptation laid out by Great Khan, and the Right Prince's desire to prove his strength in front of Yujia, there was no telling what he might do. What if he decided to dominate the arena until he secured three victories to enter Kyzil? Would they have to engage in a death match with Tursun?

Lin Wanrong was horrified.

The more he thought, the more plausible it seemed. Gao Qiu grew increasingly anxious and tugged on his sleeve, "Brother Lin, what should we do now?!"

Lin Wanrong pondered and shook his head, "If that really happens, I have no choice but to go head-to-head with him. But I feel that for Tursun to monopolize the arena, it won't be so easy."

"Why?!" both Hu Bugui and Gao Qiu asked in unison.

Lin Wanrong smiled, "Think about it, gentlemen. What would happen if Tursun truly won the sheep snatching competition and married Yujia?"

Old Gao chuckled, "He'd monopolize all the power and dominate the plains!"

"Exactly," Lin Wanrong said, relaxed. "In the current balanced landscape, if such equilibrium were shattered and an ambitious Tursun became dominant, would Batur and Lu Dongzan agree? Would Yujia agree?"

A lightbulb went off in Hu Bugui's head. "General, you're suggesting that both Yujia and the Left Prince would secretly hinder Tursun from winning?"

"It's mere speculation," General Lin shrugged with a smile. "Yujia is clever, as we all know. We'll just have to wait and see!"

Old Gao pointed and exclaimed, "Brother Lin, I am thoroughly impressed by you. When it comes to wit, probably only Yueya'er could match you!"

General Lin laughed, "She's not as devious as I am, and I'm not as cunning as she is. We each have our strengths and weaknesses."

Both Hu Bugui and Gao Qiu exchanged glances, concluding that the two were as sly as each other—birds of a feather.

When Tursun stepped into the arena, it triggered a chain reaction. Smaller tribes who hadn't yet participated cursed loudly. With the Right Prince obstructing their path, their chances of winning a single round were virtually nil.

This hero instantly sent countless young girls into a screaming frenzy. They swarmed forward, offering baskets of carefully woven flowers. However, the Right Prince's heart was set on someone else, and under Yujia's watchful gaze, he unceremoniously pushed these girls aside.

Disheartened, the young girls opted for the next best thing, offering flower wreaths to the warriors beside the Right Prince.

These nomadic warriors had far fewer reservations. They accepted all gifts, hanging exquisite flower wreaths around their necks. Those who arrived later, the young Turkic girls, had no choice but to hang their flower wreaths on the warriors' horses' necks as a mark of respect.

The horses of Tursun's team were adorned in a riot of colors, garlands of vivid flowers hanging from their manes and drawing envious glances from all around. It seemed less like they were here for a competition and more like they were participating in a flower show. Some of the warhorses appeared unaccustomed to the garlands, pacing restlessly and even sneezing occasionally.

Lin Wanrong chuckled and shook his head. Scanning the crowd, he gradually grew surprised. The flower garlands presented by the young women varied in types and colors but shared the same delicate beauty. The weaving technique felt oddly familiar. How strange!

The proceedings unfolded just as he had imagined. Relying on his overpowering strength and ferocity, Tursun clinched four consecutive victories. The tribes daring to challenge the Right Prince had their own set of tricks, managing to gain an upper hand here and there, but ultimately, they all fell before Tursun's might.

Yujia maintained a calm expression, occasionally flashing smiles and waving at the Right Prince and his warriors. Encouraged, Tursun's spirit soared, and he seemed invincible, felling almost every opponent with ease.

"It's already the fifth match! Look at the eagle flag; these are the Turkic people from Left Prince Batur's tribe!" Old Gao pointed at the Turkic people engaged in a fierce battle at the center of the arena, excitement tinged with tension in his voice.

The dust swirled as twenty-plus riders chased each other across the plains. The clear clang of metal meeting metal was incessant. This time, the match wasn't as one-sided as imagined. The Turkic fighters were all fierce combatants, trading blows and pursuing each other relentlessly.

True to their reputation, the warriors of the Batur tribe could hold their own against the Right Prince's team, even in the absence of Left Prince Batur himself. Their annual sheep snatching contest always featured these two tribes as the main event. Although this year lacked the usual luster without Left Prince Batur leading in person, the tradition of a fierce contest continued.

Both tribes were among the top ranks in the Turkic world, and neither was willing to yield. The clash between them immediately set sparks flying. From the start, they were locked in a deadlock.

The surrounding Turkic crowd was filled with fervor, cheering and holling for their brave warriors. The plains were awash with an upswell of heat and enthusiasm.

If it came down to individual skills, both tribes were almost evenly matched. Unfortunately, with Batur absent, his stand-in, though a formidable warrior, fell short when compared to Tursun. Had it not been for him taking risky measures to stall Tursun several times, the prized sheep would have been captured by the Right Prince long ago.

"Without Batur, they are no match for Tursun!" The Right Prince's speed was like the wind, every strike freezing his opponents in their tracks. Despite having fought five matches consecutively, he showed no signs of fatigue. He nearly unseated the chief of Batur's tribe multiple times. Hu Bugui watched the battle, his face tightening in anxiety.

On these plains, the only one who could counter Tursun through martial prowess was Batur. If the Left Prince was defeated, the sheep snatching contest would undoubtedly become the exclusive domain of the Right Prince. From the looks of it, events were unfolding in that direction. When would Yujia make her move?

He glanced anxiously toward the long pavilion. Yujia sat on the throne, her eyes half-closed and her face expressionless. A cold light flickered in her eyes, making it unclear what she was pondering.

"Quick, someone has fallen off their horse!" Hu Bugui's urgent cry snapped Lin Wanrong back to reality. Looking up, he saw that a warrior serving the Right Prince had raised his curved blade to block an opponent's strike, but somehow his steed tripped. Its front legs collapsed, sending the rider hurtling through the air before crashing heavily onto the ground.

The tribesmen of Tursun were the cream of the crop, skilled in horsemanship. How could they have fallen so unexpectedly? Before the surrounding Turkic people could even react, there were several loud thuds. Four or five of Tursun's warhorses toppled, flinging their riders. The Right Prince's own majestic steed staggered, almost falling but managed to steady itself, thanks to Tursun's excellent riding skills. He loosened the reins, and the horse slowed down considerably.

"Tursun's horses are exhausted! Warriors, charge with me!" The beleaguered leader of the Batur tribe was elated at the sight. He howled and brandished his blade, leading his men into the fray.

Screams erupted as the fallen warriors of the Right Prince had not even managed to rise before they were viciously cut down by their opponents.

"A clever move, Batur, poisoning my steeds! Tursun will not spare you!" The Right Prince of the Turkic tribes fumed. He hung the sheep's body on his horse and, with a snap of his whip, dashed toward the finish line like the wind.

This was the first time Tursun had headed straight for the finish line without achieving victory. Despite being at a disadvantage, he could drop his ego and change his tactics on the fly—a man of some capability, indeed.

Watching Tursun's desperate retreat, Gao Qiu chuckled, "Serves the kid right for overexerting his horses. Now they're exhausted and stumbling. It's poetic justice."

Hu Bugui, an expert in horse breeding, frowned and shook his head, "Strange, Tursun's horses are some of the finest on the plains. How could they stumble inexplicably, and all at the same time? There must be something fishy going on. Tursun is right to curse; someone from the Left Prince's tribe must have tampered with things!"

Tampered with things? Lin Wanrong clapped his hands and laughed, "Brilliant! Killing two birds with one stone. This girl is as clever as I am!"

Gao Qiu widened his eyes, "Brother Lin, are you saying Yujia had a hand in this? How is that possible? She never even touched those horses. How could she have tampered with them? What did she use?"

Hu Bugui was also perplexed. To act under the watchful eyes of someone like Tursun required not just courage and wisdom, but also exceptional skills.

"Clever people never need to get their own hands dirty," Lin Wanrong patted Gao Qiu's shoulder and smiled faintly, "And I guarantee you, no matter how smart Tursun is, he won't know how anyone managed to meddle. That's what makes it brilliant."

A warm feeling suddenly filled his heart, not for any particular reason but for the familiarity of such craftiness.

In days past, he had used similar tactics during his confrontations in Jinling—with Scholar Mei Yanqiu in a war of words, and with Prince Zhao Kangning in a martial duel. One time it was perfume, another time a floral wreath. Recalling the words of Old Gao, "Yueya’er and Brother Lin are a perfect match," he felt a certain sense of vindication.

The situation on the field abruptly shifted. The Right Prince of the Turkic tribes, who had been dominating just moments ago, found himself now scrambling to retreat. All the Turkic warriors widened their eyes, eager to understand what had just occurred. Even the Great Khan couldn't help but watch closely, concern filling her gaze.

The battle had become a one-sided affair. Tursun, riding a failing horse, galloped ahead, with Batur’s elite warriors desperately pursuing him. The gap between the two sides gradually closed. The horse beneath the Right Prince remained spirited, maintaining its speed even under great strain, compelling Hu Bugui to watch with unwavering attention.

Tursun, burdened and clearly at the end of his rope, looked increasingly anxious. The warriors of the Left Prince's tribe were closing in, laughter breaking out among them. The leading warrior, riding ahead of the others, charged forward, drawing his curved blade and bringing it down toward Tursun’s head.

This was the moment the Right Prince had been waiting for. Before the blade could fall, he sprang up from his saddle, forcefully kicking off his horse, which collapsed beneath him. Yet he soared into the air, traversing a distance of more than five feet, landing squarely behind the leading Turkic warrior. His fist, quick as lightning, struck the warrior's temple before anyone could react. The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

This series of events happened in the blink of an eye. The Turkic warriors hadn't even had a chance to blink before the situation had entirely flipped.

The face of the Great Khan fleetingly displayed a trace of astonishment, which quickly gave way to composure. She bit her rosy lips and was the first to applaud Tursun.

The Turkic crowd snapped back to reality, their cheers and screams erupting without end. No matter the tribe, all were in awe of Tursun’s superb skills. To lose their leader in such a favorable situation left the people of the Left Prince’s tribe at a loss. The Right Prince mounted another horse, and like a dragon entering the sea, grabbed the fat sheep and disappeared into the distance, giving his opponents no further chances.

Lin Wanrong let out a long sigh: "So close to victory, and yet—Tursun is indeed formidable! Brother Hu, quickly go draw lots. Our golden opportunity is coming up next! One more win, and we can wash our hands of this whole affair."

"Ah? You’re not worried that Tursun might make a comeback?" Old Gao hurriedly asked.

Lin Wanrong grinned: "Given the current situation, if Tursun doesn't learn from this, he’s not fit to be the Right Prince of the Turkic tribes. He won’t risk re-entering the field until he figures out what went wrong."

Hu Bugui soon returned, waving the drawn lot and wiping the sweat from his forehead: "Geez, it’s chaos over there. Everyone wants to seize the opportunity to win now that Tursun has retreated to rest. Thanks to General Lin’s timely reminder, we were able to draw lots just in time. Otherwise, who knows how long we would've had to wait!"

Tursun had already claimed six victories; he could return to the arena at any moment. In other words, whoever sought ultimate triumph would have to get past the formidable Right Prince. After the narrow victory over the Batur tribe, who would dare challenge this ferocious Turkic warrior?

Fortunately, General Lin had set his sights low. Winning just one more match to secure the right to enter the city would be sufficient; there was no need to aim for the championship.

The third match was unremarkable, even forgettable. Clearly, the two opposing tribes were still recovering from their previous bouts with the Right and Left Princes. Having also witnessed the Yuezhi Tribe's vicious wolf pack tactics, they approached the contest cautiously.

General Lin left nothing to chance. He simply had Hu Bugui snatch a sheep and run ahead, while he and his men formed a protective circle around him. With the formidable Old Gao at the rear, they used this rather dishonorable tactic to effectively keep their opponents at bay.

It was quite astonishing that the smallest tribe on the grassland could achieve three consecutive victories at a sheep-snatching competition. However, in the shadow of the spectacular contests between the Right and Left Princes, the Turks had lost much interest in them, and not many people paid attention.

"We're in a good place now. Who wins the championship doesn't matter to us; we're just waiting to enter the city!" Hu Bugui chuckled. It was already mid-afternoon, and the arena was still buzzing with fierce competition. The Right Prince had returned to his tribe and was discussing something with his people, seemingly reorganizing his lineup for the contest. Among the remaining tribes, there were only a few that could potentially threaten the Right Prince. If nothing went awry, Tursun would surely be the champion.

But none of this mattered to them anymore. Their goal was achieved, and who would become the winner of the golden blade was irrelevant.

It wasn't until sunset that Tursun re-entered the arena, his face adorned with a proud smile. Few tribes remained on the grasslands, and even fewer had managed three consecutive wins.

This time, the Right Prince was entirely different. His victory over the Batur had restored his reputation, and combined with his previous six consecutive wins, he was unstoppable. The Turks admired and respected him unanimously.

Only those with three consecutive wins had the qualification to challenge Tursun. The Left Prince's tribe had almost entirely been defeated by Tursun alone; who else could stand against such power?

In less than an hour, the Right Prince had swept the field. All the winners had become his defeated opponents.

"Who dares to challenge Tursun?!" The Right Prince stood in the center of the grasslands, proudly erect, his laughter resonating in every corner.

The plains fell silent, save for the soft snorts of the horses. No one dared to answer him.

Tursun called out several times, only to be met with silence. He nodded in satisfaction, about to head toward the high-hung golden blade, when he noticed that the gentle and beautiful Great Khan slowly stood up.