"You want to challenge me?" Qin Ning blinked, genuinely taken aback as if he hadn't heard correctly.
Jiang Ning smiled faintly. "I just want to test the progress of my skills, Uncle."
Qin narrowed his eyes, his expression unreadable for a heartbeat, and then he smirked. "Oh? So confident already? To think you'd challenge your own uncle…" He chuckled softly, though his eyes glinted with quiet disdain. "Very well. Let me see the product of your training."
This arrogant brat, Qin sneered inwardly. He's only just become a Knight, and already he thinks he can stand against me? Delusional.
Ren Ning laughed lightly. "Since you two are so eager, I'll come along. I could use a bit of entertainment."
And with that, the three of them headed toward the training grounds.
The sound of clashing steel and rhythmic shouts echoed across the yard as soldiers and knights sparred under the morning sun. When they saw Ren and Qin approaching, whispers rippled through the ranks, but when Jiang Ning followed behind them, calm and expressionless, the murmurs grew even louder.
"Lord Jiang Ning? Is he really going to spar with Lord Qin?"
"Lord Qin's one of the best marksmen in the north. I wouldn't want to be in his place!"
The chatter spread quickly, and soon the entire training field's attention was fixed on the trio.
Just as they stepped onto the field, a small figure darted through the crowd.
"My lord!"
Lina ran toward Jiang Ning, her face flushed with worry. The sight of her made Qin's eyes sharpen with interest, and something colder flickered behind that polite smile.
Jiang Ning noticed instantly. A flash of killing intent surged in his chest, but he masked it with ease.
He took Lina's hand and gently pulled her aside. "You should go back to the mansion, Little Lin," he said softly but firmly.
"Did I… do something wrong?" she asked in a small voice, her head lowering.
Jiang Ning smiled faintly, brushing her hair aside. "No. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I want to stay with you, my lord," she pleaded, eyes wide. "Please…"
He exhaled softly, unable to resist that look. "Alright. But you'll stay by Sir Ronan's side. Understood?"
Lina's face lit up immediately. "Yes, my lord! I'll stay with Sir Ronan!"
"Good." He smiled, patting her gently on the head.
From across the training field, Qin's voice rang out, a faint edge of impatience beneath the politeness. "Come now, Jiang Ning! Didn't you say you wanted to spar with me?"
Jiang Ning turned, his expression cooling again. "I'm coming, Uncle."
He walked over to the weapons rack, only to pause. The familiar gleam of steel caught his eye, but among the training swords, another type of weapon rested there, long-barreled rifles with blade attachments forged into their stocks.
They were hybrid weapons, the pride of the northern marksmen, designed for both ranged precision and close combat.
Qin's lips curved into a knowing smile as he picked one up, spinning it deftly in his hand. "How about we make this interesting?" he suggested smoothly. "A test of both sword and shot. After all, you carry both titles, don't you? Knight and gunman."
Jiang Ning's golden eyes glinted faintly. "Are you sure?"
"Of course," Qin said casually. "Don't worry, we'll use training rounds. They won't kill, though I can't promise they won't sting."
Perfect, Qin thought, hiding his amusement. The boy might've inherited his father's swordsmanship, but in marksmanship, he's nothing.
I'll humiliate him cleanly and remind everyone where the true power in this family lies.
Ren Ning raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "So be it. I'll officiate. No mana, no fatal strikes. Begin when you're ready."
The soldiers quickly cleared the field, forming a wide ring around them. Even the household knights stopped to watch. A duel between the heir of House Ning and his uncle was not something anyone wanted to miss.
Qin leveled his weapon lazily, one hand behind his back. "Show me your progress, nephew."
Jiang Ning adjusted his stance, his weapon held low and close, the posture of a duelist rather than a marksman. His gaze sharpened.
"Then I won't hold back, Uncle."
The moment his words ended, he moved.
Bang!
The first shot cracked through the air. Jiang's body blurred sideways, the bullet passing so close it brushed his sleeve. Before the echo had even faded, he was already dashing forward, returning fire from the hip.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Three quick shots, not aimed directly but at the ground, the pillar, the training rack.
The bullets ricocheted, tink-tink-tink, and came at Qin from three directions at once.
"What-!" Qin twisted, deflecting one bullet with the steel edge of his gunblade while side-stepping another. The third grazed his shoulder, spinning him halfway around.
He caught himself, eyes flashing in disbelief. Ricochets? In a live duel?
The crowd gasped.
"That's impossible!" one of the knights exclaimed. "He… he used the field's angles!"
"He predicted the rebounds," Henry muttered from the sideline, awe flickering in his eyes. "That's not instinct, that's battle sense."
Qin's jaw clenched. "Lucky shot," he growled, raising his rifle again.
He unleashed a barrage of fire, his weapon roaring as training rounds whizzed through the air. Jiang Ning darted and rolled, his movements fluid and efficient, the sword-edge of his weapon flashing as he deflected two shots mid-sprint.
Steel rang against steel. Sparks danced between them.
In the blink of an eye, Jiang Ning was upon him. Their gunblades clashed, steel biting steel, and the recoil of each blocked shot vibrated up their arms.
"You're faster than I expected," Qin grunted, pressing forward. "But speed isn't everything."
He twisted his weapon, bringing the barrel up to Jiang Ning's chest at point-blank range.
Bang!
The shot hit, but only air.
Jiang Ning had dropped low, the round whizzing over his shoulder, and before Qin could readjust, the younger man swept his leg out, striking his uncle's ankle.
Qin staggered, barely catching himself.
He read my timing perfectly.
The realization hit him like ice.
No… impossible. He can't have this much control already.
Jiang Ning rose smoothly, his stance poised. "You taught me something just now, Uncle," he said lightly, his tone respectful, but his eyes burned with quiet defiance. "Speed doesn't matter… if your aim can't find its mark."
Qin snarled inwardly. "Don't get cocky!"
He leaped backward, firing again and again, rounds ricocheting off walls, pillars, and training posts. The courtyard erupted in a storm of sound.
But Jiang Ning didn't dodge; he moved through the barrage. His weapon twirled, deflecting shots with pinpoint precision, using his blade to redirect bullets into the ground or wide into the air.
Each motion was seamless, like a dance of steel and smoke.
The soldiers couldn't breathe.
"He's countering live shots with his sword…?!"
Ren Ning watched silently, his expression unreadable, though a faint smile curved his lips. So that's your secret. You've been holding back even from me.
Qin growled and decided to end it.
He charged, both hands gripping his weapon as he swung in a downward arc, his barrel and blade forming a blur of motion.
Jiang Ning sidestepped, caught the strike with his own gunblade, sparks flared between them, then pushed upward, using the recoil to spin his weapon in a half-turn.
In that same motion, he pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The round ricocheted off Qin's weapon, striking the ground, then bounced upward, clipping the older man's knee and throwing him off balance.
Qin stumbled.
Before he could recover, Jiang Ning surged forward. His boot slammed into his uncle's chest, sending him sprawling backward.
The duel ended in silence.
When Qin looked up, gasping for breath, the cold barrel of Jiang Ning's gunblade was pressed against his throat. The younger man's golden eyes glowed faintly in the light.
"If this were a real fight," Jiang Ning said softly, "you'd be dead."
For a long, heavy moment, no one spoke.
Then, slowly, Jiang Ning lowered his weapon and stepped back.
"I surrender," Qin said stiffly, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "A fine display, nephew."
But behind that smile, humiliation burned hot.
He could still feel the ringing in his knee, the ache in his chest, and the gazes of every knight and soldier witnessing his defeat.
Ren Ning broke the silence first, his deep voice carrying across the courtyard. "Well fought, both of you. That's enough for today."
The crowd broke into murmurs, some still in disbelief, others full of admiration.
"Lord Jiang Ning defeated Lord Qin!"
"His sword and aim are both flawless. What kind of training produces that?"
"Truly his father's son…"