Chapter 155

First Volume, Chapter 155: Prisoner at the Foot of the Throne

This hard-won victory meant everything to Xu Mo.

He had secured his place in the northern campaign against Di, and proven to everyone in Jingdu that official descendants were not all idle gluttons—some were willing to risk everything for glory and achievement; from now on, Xu Mo could face anyone with his head held high.

And all of this was thanks to Qin Feng.

Xu Mo gazed at the wall with burning eyes and saw Qin Feng lounging comfortably on a Tengyi Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair, one leg crossed over the other, smirking as he studied Ning Hu, bound and sprawled before him.

Ning Hu's face burned crimson, an unprecedented shame flooding his heart.

Losing was bad enough, but to be captured alive and become Qin Feng's prisoner?

At this moment, Ning Hu wished he could crawl into a crack in the earth.

"Qin Feng, what do you intend? This is a Yusheng contest—do you really treat me as a prisoner? How dare you humiliate me like this?"

Ning Hu's emotions were twisted: he was grateful Qin Feng had spared him at the Wine House yesterday, yet furious at Qin Feng's outrageous cruelty now.

Lin Quqi, temporarily serving as "broadcaster," had just returned to Qin Feng's side.

Seeing Ning Hu bound and kneeling on the ground, Lin Quqi's face tightened with anxiety; he hurriedly whispered to Qin Feng: "Brother Qin, hurry and untie the Little Marquis! This battlefield trial is just a contest—it's not a real Battlefield. Brother Qin, stop while you're ahead, or Yong'an Hou will hold a grudge."

Qin Feng waved his hand, signaling Lin Quqi not to worry, then dismissed the nearby guards.

Once no outsiders remained on the wall, Qin Feng finally got to the point, studying Ning Hu with a half-smile: "Little Marquis, you led a thousand Elite Troops of the Imperial Guard, yet were annihilated by Xu Mo's three hundred guards—what are your thoughts now?"

As a Wu Jiang Hou Ren, raised at great cost by the Ning Family to become a future general, to be humiliated like this by Qin Feng despite overwhelming numbers and equipment was nothing short of a Disgrace to Ning Hu.

Ning Hu's face paled, teeth clenched: "I'm outclassed—nothing to say!"

Qin Feng picked up the half-eaten Raw Sugarcane and tapped it against Ning Hu's shoulder, grinning like an elder scolding a child: "They say shame breeds courage! I asked you to reflect on your defeat, and you give me a sour face? Boy, are you asking for a beating?"

Beside him, Lin Quqi couldn't help but shake his head with a bitter smile.

That tone, that expression, that attitude…

Those who knew would think Qin Feng and Ning Hu were both Noble Youth; those who didn't would swear Qin Feng was Ning Hu's father!

Ning Hu, seething with shame and rage, bared his teeth at Qin Feng: "Who the hell are you? Why should I give you a lesson? Even if I did, I'd give it to my father!"

Qin Feng spread his hands, feigning helplessness: "If you really can't manage it, just adopt me as your foster father—I'll take the loss."

Ning Hu, already simmering with anger, exploded: "Qin! Don't push too far! I remember your favor at the Wine House yesterday—but that's not your license to humiliate me! If you drive me too far, I'll make you bleed five steps!"

Facing Ning Hu's fury, Qin Feng showed no concern; instead, he lazily stood up, stretched his back, then swung the Raw Sugarcane straight into Ning Hu's forehead.

Crack!

A sharp crack.

Sugarcane pulp flew everywhere.

Ning Hu felt his head whirring—thankfully it was sugarcane; had it been a wooden stick, his skull would've split open.

Lin Quqi jumped back, snatching the remaining half of the sugarcane from Qin Feng's hand: "Brother Qin, what are you doing? He's still the Little Marquis—how can you just hit him? And…"

Lin Quqi glanced at the Manchu Civil and Military on the field, and the Liang Emperor in the distance—luckily, no one was watching the wall; otherwise, this blow would've sparked disaster.

In a flash, Lin Quqi seized every object nearby that could be used as a Weapon.

Ignoring the flustered Lin Quqi, Qin Feng, under Ning Hu's furious stare, kicked off one shoe and snatched it up: "Go on—yell again. I'll show you who's in charge! Threaten me? Let's see how many shoe soles you can take."

Ning Hu's face flushed crimson then drained white, his eyes blazing with murderous rage—he wanted to devour Qin Feng alive: "Unbind me if you have the guts!"

Before he finished speaking, Qin Feng swung the shoe straight down.

Slap!

Minimal damage, maximum humiliation.

Ning Hu's eyes turned bloodshot, his molars grinding out a chilling "grind-grind"—if he broke free, he was certain he could kill Qin Feng in an instant.

Sensing Ning Hu's burning hatred, Qin Feng didn't flinch—he grinned wickedly: "You're a prisoner at the foot of the throne, and you're still snarling? I'll make you snarl! This Young Master specializes in curing stubbornness!"

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Qin Feng struck Ning Hu's forehead again and again—each blow weak, but relentless; soon, Ning Hu was dazed and reeling.

Just as Qin Feng prepared to press on and break this furious little tiger once and for all, Lin Quqi snatched the shoe and hurled it over the wall.

Helpless, Qin Feng reached for the other shoe—when Lin Quqi, voice cracking with tears, begged: "Brother Qin, no… no, Ancestor, stop your magic! If the Manchu Civil and Military see this, it'll become a scandal!"

Worried he'd scare Lin Quqi into a fit, Qin Feng sighed, stopped, and sat back down on the Tengyi Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair Chair, coldly eyeing the furious Ning Hu: "If not for Lin Quqi, I'd have given you enough shoe soles to last a lifetime."

"In personal martial prowess, no Noble Youth in Jingdu can match you. As Yong'an Hou's Son, you've studied Military Strategy since childhood, mastered the art of war— even the Liang Emperor held you in high regard; otherwise, how could he have allowed you to attend the Qingyi Ceremony after you lost so much face at Ji Wang's birthday banquet?"

"So if you're so great, how did you end up a prisoner at the foot of the throne?"

Facing Qin Feng's cruel question, Ning Hu felt like dying of shame; teeth gritted, he hissed: "Victory and defeat are common in war! I lost—I accept it. When did it become your place to lecture me?"

As Qin Feng expected, the boy was stubborn—even his eyes reddened as if he might cry, he still Just Won't Submit.

Qin Feng had planned to simply beat him into submission with shoe soles.

But Lin Quqi stood guard like a tiger, so Qin Feng changed tactics, narrowing his eyes: "The Great Axe Xu Mo used was specially lightened—it won't kill you. But your Gold Mace? You've already crushed several City Patrol Bureau guards into serious injury. Forget the northern campaign—you might lose your City Patrol Bureau post entirely."

Hearing this, Ning Hu's brow furrowed; his voice lost its earlier frenzy, growing colder: "So… you were just settling personal scores? Avenging those guards?"