The scene unfolded so swiftly no one could react.
He'd struck without hesitation!
So unrestrained?
Only when they saw Zhao Yu slump, blood trickling from his mouth, did the daze lift.
"Brigade Commander!"
A cry rang from the tent. Someone bolted out to aid Zhao Yu.
"Didn't expect this polished commander to have such a fiery temper!"
"They say he's a famed cripple—how's he so strong? Brigade Commander Zhao's Eighth-Rank peak!"
"Pretty ruthless!"
…
Across the barracks, hushed murmurs rose from afar, faces stunned.
Some clocked Xia Chen's strength—one slash had felled Zhao Yu.
A marquis's son, trained in elite arts, Zhao Yu could spar a few rounds with Seventh-Rank camp veterans.
Even caught off-guard, he'd crumpled too neatly.
Li Xi, who'd ushered Xia Chen in, gaped in shock. He'd foreseen a clash but not Zhao Yu—the local tough—eating dirt so soon.
His view of Xia Chen shifted. This capital-notorious marquis cripple had real skill.
Not just him—even Xia Qian and the guards behind Xia Chen stirred. Xia Qian sensed his Young Master had changed lately, his mind inscrutable, his strength soaring.
After downing Zhao Yu in one move, Xia Chen's expression held steady. He sheathed his crimson blade slowly, lifting the tent flap. Sunlight slanted over him, bathing him in a golden sea—sacred, imposing, untouchable.
"What a striking face!"
Every onlooker thought it first. Though armored, not dolled up as a noble, Xia Chen's looks and aura stood out starkly.
He approached Zhao Yu.
"What do you want with our Young Master?"
Pale and listless, Zhao Yu tried raising his arms—shattered by Xia Chen's blow—as three soldiers leapt up, shielding him.
Zhao household guards!
"Zhao Yu defied his superior—I've subdued him. Where's Company A?"
Ignoring their challenge, Xia Chen scanned the crowd. His quiet voice rippled through the barracks.
Soldiers exchanged glances, then some snapped to, assembling on the open ground.
Wavering troops, seeing peers move and Zhao Yu still bleeding, gritted their teeth and joined.
In mere breaths, all 98 of Company A formed ranks.
"Where's the discipline squad?"
At Xia Chen's call, five stepped out briskly from Company A.
This parachuted commander cared nothing for the Zhao clan, striking a marquis heir without flinching—his authority peaked, and they dared not dawdle.
"Drag him off—100 lashes, then let the Marquis of Jinwu's household claim him. As of today, he's banished from the guard!"
Xia Chen glanced at Zhao Yu, then the squad, his flat tone chilling many across the camp.
"B-banished from the guard?"
Squad Captain Li Zheng stammered.
"Didn't hear me? Need it repeated?"
Xia Chen's gaze locked on. Li Zheng felt like prey under a primordial beast's stare—somehow, this new commander's presence dwarfed even court grandees' pressure.
"I-I heard clear!"
Li Zheng nodded hastily.
"What right do you have to banish me?"
Zhao Yu, breath faint but rallying, erupted at Xia Chen's words. Rage surged; another bloody cough sprayed. His eyes blazed red.
Banishment would shred his honor, exile him from the capital's elite circles, and turn the Marquis of Jinwu into a laughingstock over tea.
Xia Chen ignored him. This fool—gambling openly in camp, daring such blatant defiance—handed him the blade to kill the chicken and warn the monkeys.
The Marquis of Jinwu was sharp—how'd he sire such an idiot?
Xia Chen half-doubted Zhao Yu's lineage.
No trace of that brilliance.
"Still standing there? Execute it!"
He glared at Li Zheng, displeased. Li Zheng jolted, leading his four men to Zhao Yu without delay.
Zhao's guards moved to block, but Xia Qian's trio disarmed them swiftly, bored from idleness. They'd come to bolster Xia Chen's clout, yet he'd tamed the scene solo.
As Zhao Yu was hauled off, shrill screams soon pierced from afar, numbing scalps.
A marquis's legitimate son, yet this Zhendong heir struck without hesitation, heedless of rank.
Outclassed in role and lineage, who'd dare scorn Xia Chen now?
He'd seized full control!
…
"His strike was crisp and decisive, like autumn winds clearing fallen leaves. Leveraging his edge, he hit fast, true, and hard, cementing his authority in a flash."
At the barracks' heart, square-faced Qin Mu nodded slowly, impressed.
"Zhao Yu's tactics were crude, banking on his Jinwu roots, thinking Xia Chen might balk. But he smashed through with raw force—looks like he's studied strategy at Zhendong!"
Li Wenzhong, the guard's Leader of Court Gentlemen, sipped tea, eyes calm.
"He's your subordinate. Once he's strutted before his men and locked in control, bring him to me. Straight to the barracks without seeing me first—hmph, no manners!"
Li Wenzhong huffed, then, noting Qin Mu's stern look, added, "Be respectful!"
"Yes, sir!"
Qin Mu replied deferentially.
Li Wenzhong sighed. Their Feathered Forest was a small temple—housing this marquis heir and Imperial Son-in-Law, too lofty to treat lightly.
Who knew the aging, ever-enigmatic Emperor's stance on Xia Chen?
If his guard posting bore deeper intent, those imperial eyes might be watching still.