Chapter 50: I don’t want a love rival!

Mo Tian, it turned out, was everywhere.

At breakfast, he sat near Zhao Lingxi and offered her first pick of the steamed buns. At lectures, he saved her a seat by the window where the light was best. At training, he lingered afterward to discuss technique with her, standing just close enough that their shoulders almost touched.

And every single time, he was perfectly polite to Lan Yue.

That was the worst part.

He wasn’t rude. He wasn’t dismissive. He didn’t ignore her or treat her like a servant. He treated her with this calm, measured respect that somehow made everything ten times more infuriating.

“Good morning, Lan Yue,” he said on Monday, nodding as she poured Zhao Lingxi’s tea.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” she replied through a smile that could have cracked glass.

“You look well. Have you been training? Your posture has improved.”

“Thank you for noticing.”

“Of course. Someone who protects Zhao Lingxi should be in top condition.”

Someone who protects Zhao Lingxi. As if he was acknowledging her role and simultaneously claiming a higher one. Like a general complimenting a foot soldier. Well done, little guard. Keep up the good work while I handle the important business.

Lan Yue poured his tea without spilling a single drop.

She considered this a tremendous act of self control.

—

On Tuesday, the comedy of errors continued.

Lan Yue arrived at the training courtyard to find Mo Tian already there, helping Zhao Lingxi practice energy suppression for the tournament. He stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, adjusting her posture.

“Relax your upper back,” he said. “The tension is creating resistance in your meridian flow. If you soften here…” His thumb pressed between her shoulder blades. “The energy will circulate more smoothly.”

“Like this?” Zhao Lingxi adjusted.

“Perfect.”

His hands remained on her shoulders for approximately three seconds longer than necessary.

Lan Yue walked over and inserted herself between them with the subtlety of a battering ram.

“I brought water,” she announced, holding up a flask she had grabbed from the nearest table. “Hydration is important during training. Very important. Critically important.”

Mo Tian stepped back with an expression of polite amusement. “Indeed it is.”

Zhao Lingxi took the flask. “Thank you, Lan Yue.”

“I also brought snacks.” She hadn’t. “They’re in my room. I’ll go get them.”

“We just ate breakfast.”

“Post breakfast snacks. For energy.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It’s a new thing. I invented it. Very popular in…” She grasped for a location. “The south.”

Mo Tian’s eyebrow rose exactly one centimeter. That tiny movement contained more knowing amusement than most people could fit into an entire speech.

“The south,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“Fascinating.”

Lan Yue wanted to evaporate.

Zhao Lingxi looked between them with an expression that was either confused or thoroughly entertained. Knowing her, it was the second one.

—

On Wednesday, Mo Tian found Lan Yue alone.

She was sitting on the eastern terrace, the quiet spot overlooking the valley where she came to think. He appeared without sound, which was alarming for a man of his build, and sat on the railing beside her as if they were old friends.

“You don’t like me,” he said.

No preamble. No small talk. Just a direct statement delivered with the confidence of someone stating that the sky was blue.

Lan Yue considered lying. Then decided against it. He was too smart for that.

“I don’t trust you,” she said.

“That’s fair. I haven’t given you reason to.” He looked out over the valley, his profile sharp against the afternoon sky. “But I think the real issue isn’t trust.”

“Oh?”

“You’re afraid I’m competition.”

The word landed between them like a stone dropped in still water.

“I’m a servant,” Lan Yue said carefully. “I don’t compete with Crown Princes.”

“And yet you inserted yourself between us this morning with a water flask and an imaginary snack tradition.”

Her ears burned. “The south has many unique customs.”

“I’m sure it does.” He turned to face her. His dark eyes were serious now, the casual charm stripped away. “Let me be clear about something. I respect Zhao Lingxi. I find her extraordinary. And yes, in another world, another circumstance, I might have pursued her.”

Lan Yue’s hands tightened on the railing.

“But I’m not blind,” Mo Tian continued. “I see how she looks at you. I see the pin in her hair that she touches when she thinks nobody is watching. I see the way her eyes find you across every room before they find anyone else.”

He paused.

“I may be a Crown Prince. But even I know when a battle is already lost.”

Lan Yue stared at him. Her brain was producing a strange combination of relief, confusion, and the lingering urge to push him off the terrace.

“So you’re giving up?” she asked.

“I’m choosing a different role. Ally instead of suitor.” He smiled, and for the first time, it looked genuine rather than calculated. “She needs powerful friends more than she needs another person complicating her heart. And frankly, watching you fumble through your jealousy has been the most entertaining thing I’ve witnessed in years.”

“I am not jealous.”

“You invented a snack tradition.”

“It could be real!”

“It isn’t.”

Lan Yue scowled at the valley. Mo Tian watched her with that infuriating almost smile.

“I’m going to be a good ally to her,” he said quietly. “A genuine one. Not because of romance, but because this empire needs people like Zhao Lingxi. People who stand up when everyone else kneels.”

He stood.

“But I’ll also enjoy watching you squirm whenever I stand too close to her. Consider it my entertainment tax.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I’m royalty. We’re all terrible.” He walked away, hands clasped behind his back. At the corridor entrance, he paused. “Oh, and Lan Yue?”

“What?”

“Tell her. Before someone less honorable than me comes along who won’t step aside.”

He disappeared around the corner.

Lan Yue sat on the terrace, staring at the spot where he had stood.

Had the Crown Prince of the entire empire just given her dating advice?

What was her life?

—

Thursday brought the real work.

With the tournament only ten days away, Zhao Lingxi trained with ferocious intensity. The challenge was clear. She had to fight at full strength without letting the golden energy surface. The Spirit Shield Pendant Mo Tian had given her would help mask minor leaks, but if the golden light erupted like it had during the overflow incident, no pendant could hide it.

“Control,” Bai Xuelan said during their morning session. “Not suppression. You’re not hiding the energy. You’re choosing where it goes.”

Zhao Lingxi stood in the center of the courtyard, eyes closed. Lan Yue sat nearby, ready to intervene if the energy destabilized.

“Route it through your bones,” Bai Xuelan instructed. “Deep tissue. Below the surface. Your muscles and organs can hold it without visual manifestation. Only the meridians and skin produce visible light.”

Zhao Lingxi inhaled. The air around her shimmered, heat rising from her body. But no golden glow appeared on her skin. The energy was moving, Lan Yue could sense it through the connection they had built during training, but it stayed deep. Hidden. Like a river flowing underground.

“Strike the training post,” Bai Xuelan said.

Zhao Lingxi opened her eyes and punched the wooden post.

It exploded.

Not cracked. Not splintered. Exploded into a shower of fragments that scattered across the courtyard. The impact crater in the ground was six inches deep.

Everyone stared.

“Sixth level power output,” Bai Xuelan said, checking her instruments. “No visible golden manifestation.” She looked up from her journal with rare approval. “It’s working.”

Zhao Lingxi looked at the destroyed training post. Then at her fist. Her knuckles weren’t even bruised.

“Again,” she said.

They brought another post.

She destroyed that one too.

And the next one.

By the fifth post, Master Jiang had wandered over from the main training yard to investigate the noise. He looked at the pile of wooden debris, then at Zhao Lingxi standing calmly in the center.

“I’m going to need to order more posts,” he said.

“Sorry,” Zhao Lingxi said, not looking sorry at all.

“Don’t apologize. That was beautiful.” His scarred face split into something resembling a grin. “Do it again at the tournament and I’ll buy you dinner.”

—

That evening, the whole group gathered in Zhao Lingxi’s room.

Bai Xuelan laid out tournament brackets she had obtained from the administrative office. Tang Xiaoli spread snacks across every available surface. Zhao Han sat on the floor with General Fluffbottom on his knee, studying the brackets with the seriousness of a military commander reviewing battle plans.

“First round opponents are assigned randomly,” Bai Xuelan explained. “But later rounds are seeded. The strongest fighters will inevitably face each other in the semifinals and finals.”

“Who’s the biggest threat?” Lan Yue asked.

“Chen Boyang. Third in the entrance exam. Seventh level Qi Condensation. Strong, fast, and smart.” Bai Xuelan tapped another name. “Fang Qingyue. Fourth rank. Ice element affinity. Defensive fighter, hard to break through.”

“What about Shen Zhiran?” Tang Xiaoli asked.

“Mediocre. He’ll be eliminated in the second round at most.”

“Good. I hope he cries.”

“Tang Xiaoli.”

“What? He’s awful.”

Zhao Lingxi studied the brackets in silence. Her finger traced possible paths through the tournament, calculating matchups, identifying threats.

“I can win this,” she said.

Not arrogance. Just fact. Spoken with the quiet certainty of someone who had spent a lifetime being underestimated and was thoroughly finished with it.

Lan Yue looked at her. The candlelight caught the pearl pin and made it shimmer. Zhao Lingxi’s jaw was set, her eyes sharp, her entire being radiating a quiet, devastating power that had nothing to do with cultivation and everything to do with who she was.

Mo Tian was right about one thing.

This empire needed people like Zhao Lingxi.

And Lan Yue was going to make damn sure she got the chance to prove it.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep