Li Da-ge stood beside the woman, holding a stool, and as the focal point of the scene, he naturally felt the shift in atmosphere.

He couldn't help but straighten his posture again, gripping the stool tightly, and stared at the guards gradually surrounding him.

He suddenly recalled listening to stories at the teahouse, tales where a great general single-handedly held the pass against ten thousand men in a tragic and magnificent battle. Back then, everyone listening had felt their blood boil with longing. Of course, he knew someone like him would never experience such a thing, not in a thousand lifetimes—at best, he’d just grin foolishly in his sleep.

But in this very moment, looking at the overwhelming number of opponents and only a woman and a youth on his side, the entire burden rested on his shoulders. A hot, surging feeling rose within his chest.

Holding the pass against ten thousand men—a tragic, glorious battle to the death. This must be the feeling!

But soon, Li Da-ge froze, because movement erupted all around him.

Liu Pucheng was the first to step forward, positioning himself in front of Qi Yue.

“Sir, please do not harm Mistress Qi,” he said, bowing deeply to the steward and the others.

“Get out of the way, old man,” the steward snarled.

Liu Pucheng didn't budge. One by one, the disciples stepped forward, placing themselves in front of him. Though tinged with fear, they still stood their ground.

“What are you doing?” the steward glared and shouted. “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know who we are? You’ve turned rebellious! Move aside quickly!”

Not a single disciple moved.

The scene settled into a tense stalemate.

The onlookers began to chatter amongst themselves.

“Fight already! What are you waiting for! Are you cowards!” the loafers taunted.

Cowards! Were a few skinny scarecrows enough to frighten them? If this got out, they might as well give up!

The steward pointed a finger.

“Move aside or don’t blame us if our cudgels don’t recognize faces!” he roared. “Daring to oppose our Dingxi Marquisate! You must be tired of living! Put some spirit into it, don’t let people look down on us!”

The last sentence was clearly directed at the guards of the Dingxi Marquisate.

Accompanied by this command, the guards swung their cudgels in unison, letting out a coordinated shout.

Indeed, their spirit was imposing. The disciples at the very front couldn't help but tremble. They grabbed the nearest neighbors, squeezed their eyes shut, and though there was a flurry of confusion, no one retreated.

“Teachers, please stand back, this doesn't concern you,” Qi Yue said, clutching the door bolt in her hand.

Just then, a clamor sounded from the distance, along with the messy thud of running feet.

“Make way, make way,” a loud voice bellowed.

Everyone turned to look. A crowd surged down the street—some on horseback, some running—waving clubs wildly as they approached. The masses erupted into chaos.

What was happening? Who were these people? Was it a street riot?

“Fighting?” Huang Ziqiao, on the lead horse, whipped his riding crop down hard. “Clear the way for me!”

The whip lashed out carelessly, and people shrieked curses while dodging, quickly clearing a path. Huang Ziqiao’s men poured through and surrounded the Dingxi Marquisate guards.

Things looked grim…

“Young Master Huang, what is this…” The steward, naturally recognizing Huang Ziqiao, rushed forward to salute. “Look, this is our Dingxi Marquisate taking possession of a property…”

He didn't finish before a whip cracked across him.

“Take your mother’s property! This isn't a property you have the right to take!” Huang Ziqiao cursed, all his pent-up fury directed at the man.

The Marquis had only suffered two minor blows, and Chang Yuncheng remained unreachable. If this continued, Huang Ziqiao had been ready to sneak over and smash the gates of the Dingxi Marquisate under the cover of darkness to vent his rage.

“Young Master Huang!” The steward flinched from the blow, boiling with anger and shame. “What do you think you’re doing! I represent the Dingxi Marquisate…”

The guards rushed forward to shield him, allowing the steward to escape the lashing. But Huang Ziqiao’s strikes were far more severe than Yuan Bao’s had been. The steward touched his lip, saw the blood on his hand, and finally snapped.

What did it matter if he was the Prefect’s son! Even the Prefect himself dared not be presumptuous before the Dingxi Marquisate!

“Young Master Huang! You’ve gone too far! Don’t blame the Dingxi Marquisate for showing no courtesy!” the steward fumed, simultaneously waving his hand.

Half the guards split off, aiming their clubs toward Huang Ziqiao’s faction.

“Xiao Qiao, don't make trouble,” Qi Yue called out, looking at Huang Ziqiao. “This doesn't concern you; go back.”

“Young Master Huang, you might not know this, but Mistress Qi is no longer a member of the Dingxi Marquisate. You should think carefully before acting…” the steward also shouted.

The response he received was a curse from Huang Ziqiao.

“Think about your grandmother’s backside!” he yelled. “Anyone who tries to bully Mistress Qi is my business.”

Huang Ziqiao pointed his whip at the Dingxi Marquisate steward and guards.

“Mistress Qi is my benefactor, the one who saved my life, Huang Ziqiao. Anyone who crosses Mistress Qi crosses me,” he stated, his youthful voice hoarse. “Fighting? Who’s afraid of whom! Let’s fight!”

At the sound of his cry, the retainers he brought immediately roared, leveling their clubs toward the men of the Dingxi Marquisate.

The Dingxi Marquisate guards hastily adopted defensive postures.

The atmosphere between the two sides grew taut.

“Xiao Qiao!” Qi Yue cried, about to say more, when another wave of noise came from outside.

“Fight! Fight! Get on with it!”

Footsteps and shouts rolled in like thunder.

The surrounding crowd roared and scattered as massive groups of people streamed in from both sides of the street, each one scrambling as if fighting over a treasure trove, terrified of missing out.

The area was completely sealed off, packed three or four layers deep, with a forest of raised cudgels.

What… what was going on?

The men of the Dingxi Marquisate were utterly dumbfounded.

“Stop, stop,” Qi Yue said, dropping the door bolt she’d been holding, desperate to prevent these young rascals from actually starting a brawl.

As the saying goes, a good dog can’t fight off many bad ones; random blows can defeat a master craftsman. Although the Dingxi Marquisate guards were larger and better equipped, in terms of sheer numbers, they had no advantage against these half-grown youths.

The steward had completely lost his imposing air; he was utterly speechless. He thought far deeper than Qi Yue. Looking at the people who had surrounded them, the leaders were mostly well-dressed young masters—some he knew, some he didn't—but it was certain they were the sons of affluent families from Yongqing Prefecture. He didn't fear the son of a Prefect, but this many families… Besides, if a real fight broke out, they couldn't win!

“Everyone, stop fooling around,” Qi Yue called out, and the surrounding din gradually subsided.

The dozen or so Dingxi Marquisate guards had already lowered their clubs. Caught within the dense circle of people, they appeared remarkably vulnerable. Hanging their heads, they had lost all trace of their earlier arrogance; from a distance, they no longer looked like attackers about to break in, but rather like men being protected by Qi Yue.

“You all should go back,” Qi Yue told them. “Tell the Marquis that I bought this house with my dowry; it has nothing to do with him, so he shouldn't cause trouble.”

The steward kept his head bowed, saying nothing, refusing to look at her. Surrounded by watchful, eager eyes, he dared not utter a single word.

“Also, tell the Marquis that I have received the letter of divorce. I will return in a few days to collect my dowry,” Qi Yue added. “If you hadn't come to remind me today, I might have forgotten.”

With that, she gestured for them to clear a path.

After a reluctant moment, the path was grudgingly opened.

The steward bit his lip, lowered his head, and marched off. The guards naturally followed.

Tch. The loafers in the crowd grumbled, venting their regret at not witnessing the brawl. Amidst the whistles and laughter, the Dingxi Marquisate group fled quickly.

The steward ran back to the manor, and the gatekeepers showed no surprise at their appearance.

“Oh, Master Ban, what happened to your face?” someone called out loudly.

The steward kept his head down, pretending not to hear, seething with humiliation and shame. He finally understood why those people dreaded taking this assignment! Those old sly foxes! But why? Why?

“That scene,” drawled a man leaning on his shoulder nearby, “it was just like when they besieged the Wang family mansion last time, nothing strange about it.”

This was a guard rumored to suffer from epileptic fits that kept him home, speaking to the crestfallen guards who had returned. His air of nonchalant calm made the others grind their teeth with envy!

Why? Why?

The Marquis of Dingxi sat in his study, looking stunned after hearing the steward’s report. Last time, those people helped fight when the woman was still the young mistress of the Dingxi Marquisate. But now, she was no longer the young mistress! Why were they still helping her? Were they blind? Couldn't they see she no longer carried the banner of the Dingxi Marquisate? Were they blind?

The Marquis of Dingxi snatched the teacup before him and hurled it fiercely.

The shame-faced steward retreated. As he turned, he ran into Chang Yuncheng.

“Young Master…” he hastily bowed.

Chang Yuncheng delivered a kick.

The steward tumbled out, sweat beading from the pain, yet he dared not speak, kneeling down to kowtow.

“Drag him out!” Chang Yuncheng said coldly, then turned and walked away. Behind him, two young servants lunged like hungry wolves.

“It wasn't my fault, it was the Marquis…” the steward managed to shout before a rag was stuffed into his mouth, and he was dragged away.

By the time Cuizhi arrived with the Wang family men, the fighting was long over. The street had returned to its usual calm, as if nothing had happened.

Qi Yue was supervising the cleanup of the damaged buildings with her own people.

“Mistress Qi, you don't need to bother, we’ll handle it,” the foreman said cautiously.

“I apologize for startling you all,” Qi Yue replied to him.

“Mistress, you wound us with such politeness,” the foreman said quickly, clearly fearful.

Qi Yue was never one for false modesty; she always believed that accepting was more pleasing to the other party than declining. She smiled, said, “Then I’ll trouble you all,” and stepped out.

“Master!” a voice called from the Qianjin Hall. A disciple peered out respectfully. “Master, we have an emergency patient. The Master asked you to come take a look.”

Qi Yue acknowledged him with a soft “Yes,” and walked over.

Cuizhi turned and exchanged glances with the Wang family members.

“It’s over, it’s over,” the Wang family steward told the retainers who were still holding their tools. They quickly put everything away.

Meanwhile, the steward noticed Li Da-ge still sitting by the wall.

“Da-ge,” he called, then noticed the man sitting on the stool in the corner looked strange, his expression utterly peculiar—was it sadness?

Sadness? This was a word the steward never imagined applying to the rough man.

“What’s wrong with you? Don't tell me you got scared?” the steward chuckled.

Li Da-ge merely snorted and ignored him. He stared at the sky, letting out a heavy breath, but the gloom in his heart remained trapped.

So, it seemed he simply wasn't fated for such things… It was all those bratty kids’ fault! They had cut his moment of heroism short by only half…

Li Da-ge’s face was filled with grievance, and a faint glimmer of tears appeared in his eyes, giving the Wang family steward nearby goosebumps. He concluded that this Mistress Qi truly was an extraordinary person; even the honest Li Da-ge had become abnormal after following her for only two days!

“Let’s go, let’s go,” the steward urged, quickly leading his men away.