In the audience, Jase and Kyle occupied the main seats. Kyle smiled at the scene and, with a touch of hypocrisy, remarked to Jase, "Your Clusian competitor's chess is still a bit lacking, needs more effort. But if she's willing, perhaps our Mr. Jenkins could offer some guidance."

Jase leisurely sipped his coffee. He knew Kyle well. "This hypocritical and pretentious demeanor—who is he trying to impress?" he calmly said. "Prime Minister Kyle, we in Clusia have an old saying: the one who laughs last wins. The competition isn't over yet; it's best not to speak too soon."

Kyle's expression flickered, then he resumed his smile. "Jase is right, let's keep watching." Kyle still harbored a degree of apprehension towards Jase; Jase, in his younger days, had been a renowned sharpshooter. During the war between their countries, countless lives had been lost at Jase's hand. The lethal aura and battlefield dominance he exuded were genuinely intimidating.

Jase leaned on his cane, sitting erect. From behind, he didn't appear to be a man in his late seventies.

Jeremiah observed Yvette's profile; her slightly raised eyelashes cast a faint shadow, her fair side profile clearly revealing her collarbones. What's the girl planning? He'd already guessed part of it. Is she trying to torment someone? She should just torment them to death. Yvette and Jeremiah's views on this surprisingly aligned.

On stage, Robin confidently regarded Yvette, a smug smile playing on his lips, his eyes radiating disdain and arrogance. Just give me another ten minutes, and I'll definitely win this woman.

Both players accelerated their moves. Five minutes later, Yvette's chess strategy shifted again. Clearly surrounded by white pieces, she broke free from behind them and gradually began to recapture them.

At one o'clock, the time was announced precisely. The stage and audience fell silent. In less than ten minutes, they witnessed an incredible comeback. They had assumed Robin's victory was assured, but Yvette had found a way out of despair and slowly turned the tide of the game.

The media scrambled to catch up. Black pieces dominated the board; white had nowhere to hide. Even those unfamiliar with chess understood who had won. This day, they had witnessed a Clusian girl defeat the three-time world chess champion, Robin.

Some astute observers noted that the entire game had lasted exactly one hour, not a minute more. Unless Yvette hadn't done it deliberately, why would anyone doubt it? Using time to control chess? That's terrifying!

Yvette placed her final piece and stood, looking calmly at the pale-faced Robin. The rebellious spark remained in her eyes and brows. Her tone was even. "World champion?"

No further words were necessary; the sarcasm was palpable. Those four words were truly cutting! Using the fewest words to inflict the greatest harm—that's Yvette.

Sitting in his chair, Robin stared at the chessboard, breathing heavily, the veins in his forehead bulging, his face contorting and turning crimson. He couldn't believe he had lost. I was winning just now! How is this possible? Which move was wrong? Why did I lose? Did I make a mistake from the beginning?

Robin's mind reeled. He was distraught, his vision blurry, his ears ringing with the laughter of the crowd. I lost, a world champion lost to a girl. He knew he had become the laughingstock of the world.

Robin's eyes became bloodshot. This loss would shame his family, and even the Prime Minister's favor would wane. Hearing Yvette's words, Robin abruptly looked up, his face flushed crimson. His eyes widened, darkened, flickered, and turned pitch black. He lacked the strength to retort; he could only clench his fists.

Yvette lifted her chin, her gaze cold and clear, her delicate brows slightly arched. She said slowly, "What does it feel like to be defeated by a Clusian girl? If you were to write a book, you'd have plenty of material."

In the audience, Samantha couldn't suppress her laughter. When it comes to mocking others, it has to be Yvette. Those words are impossible to refute.

Andrew, seated beside Tim, nearly applauded Yvette. Only Yvette could speak like that; her linguistic skills are impeccable!

Charles, in the back row, also smiled. Don't mess with the instructor, but some people never learn!

As expected, Robin's eyes flashed with anger when he heard this, like sparks from burning coals. Just as he was about to raise his finger, his vision blurred, and he fell forward.

Everyone gasped, then watched as Robin collapsed heavily to the ground. The chessboard overturned, scattering pieces around him. He looked utterly ridiculous, his face completely devoid of composure. Under the gaze of the entire audience, he had been elegantly knocked unconscious by Yvette's words.

The vast hall fell silent as everyone watched Robin faint on stage and Yvette calmly walk away. The scene was intensely shocking and utterly stunning.

Jeremiah rose, approached Yvette, exchanged a brief glance, and departed.

Samantha and Andrew greeted Tim and followed him out, and Charles also exited through a back door.

The individuals involved simply walked away. By the time the media realized what had happened and tried to pursue them with their cameras, they were gone. They had missed a crucial interview opportunity, much to their regret. This individual would become a Clusian national hero, their status elevated beyond the reach of casual media interviews. The media exchanged glances—regretting the missed opportunity.

With the key players gone, the media focused their attention on the Ybaulla delegation. Their expressions were as sour as if they’d ingested something unpleasant. Those who had been arrogant moments before now looked dejected and actively avoided the cameras.

Kyle, barely suppressing his anger, rose from his seat. Before the world's media, he couldn't reveal his true feelings, forcing a smile as he congratulated Jase. "Congratulations, Jase, Clusia won the first exchange match." He swallowed his frustration.

Jase straightened his suit, appearing refreshed. To Kyle's insincere congratulations, he offered a polite nod. "Prime Minister Kyle, thank you. See you at the fencing match tomorrow." His distant demeanor suggested a lack of familiarity with Kyle, leaving Kyle wishing he hadn’t been so transparently depicted.