Chapter 359: Another Day, Perhaps

Cristina finally saw through Isolde's scheme. With a shrill voice, she snapped, “You went through all this trouble just to drive me away? Well, I’m not leaving! If I do, it’ll be on my own terms, not because someone forced me out!”

“Oh? And now you care about dignity?” Isolde sneered, her tone dripping with mockery. “Where was all this self-respect when you and Johnathan schemed against Rosemary?”

Arthur’s face darkened with shame. He turned to Cristina and said, “Let’s go. We don’t need to endure this humiliation.”

Cristina flung off his hand. “No! Why should I leave just because she says so?”

Isolde chuckled, indifferent. “Suit yourself. Stay or leave—it makes no difference to me.”

With that, she waved a hand at Hattie. “See them out.”

Arthur tugged at Cristina. “We’re leaving.”

Cristina shrieked, “No! If I leave now, it means she chased me out!”

Arthur hesitated, his gaze turning stormy as he looked at Isolde. “I assume you won’t mind her staying a few more days?”

“Not at all,” Isolde replied smoothly. “After all, I have a dog at home already—one more won’t make much difference.”

Arthur’s composure cracked. “Must you be so vicious?”

Isolde’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Vicious? Oh, Arthur, you should’ve heard the things Cristina said to Oliver when she broke off the engagement. The arrogance, the disdain—compared to that, I’m being downright merciful.”

“That was in the past! Why keep bringing it up? And back then, you had nothing to do with Oliver. Now you’re rushing to avenge him, but does he even know? Even if he does, do you think he’d approve? Oliver isn’t a petty man.”

“No, he’s not,” Isolde admitted. “But I am. Back then, I wasn’t his wife, so I let it slide. Now that I’ve married into his household, I have every right to settle old scores. Don’t expect kindness in return for cruelty. When you trample on someone, be prepared for the day they rise again and strike back.”

“Well said,” Arthur’s gaze sharpened. “But aren’t you afraid of an endless cycle of revenge? If you destroy Cristina today, what if one day, she comes back for you?”

“Of course I’m afraid,” Isolde’s voice was light, almost amused. “Which is exactly why I’m making sure that doesn’t happen.”

Arthur finally understood—there was no winning against Isolde in an argument. He was a man of great learning, once praised by the King himself for his eloquence. He had debated three senior ministers in court, citing classic texts until they were speechless. Cristina had burned too many bridges.

Realizing further debate was futile, Arthur gave in. He pulled Cristina along, dragging her out despite her continued protests. She cursed all the way to the door, shedding the last remnants of her noblewoman’s grace, behaving like a common shrew.

Meanwhile, Isolde merely sipped her coffee, unfazed. Heidi, who had planned to step in and help Isolde, found that her intervention was unnecessary. One against two, Isolde had still left Arthur utterly defeated.

“Sorry you had to watch that mess,” Isolde set down her coffee with a soft smile.

Heidi studied her. “You’re ruthless. Cristina won’t last here much longer.”

“That was the plan,” Isolde’s voice was cool, unyielding.

“But… won’t Oliver disapprove?” Heidi hesitated. Even if he didn’t like Cristina, avenging past grievances so openly might damage his reputation, making him seem petty.

“He’ll understand,” Isolde’s eyes glinted. “People who hurt him don’t deserve mercy.”

Heidi wasn’t entirely convinced but nodded anyway. That evening, Oliver returned and was immediately briefed by Hattie on the day’s events.

He nodded. “Where is she?”

“In the training hall.”

Ningser Pavilion was vast, featuring a grand central hall flanked by two smaller side halls. Before they had moved into Montlins Manor, they had repurposed one of these side halls into a training ground.

A flicker of excitement flashed in Oliver’s eyes as he strode toward the hall. The doors stood wide open, the crack of a whip slicing through the air inside. He stopped at the entrance, watching as Isolde moved like lightning—spinning, leaping, her whip cutting through the air with lethal precision.

Doug had trained her, and Oliver had seen Doug fight before. His attacks were swift, merciless, and efficient. Isolde had clearly inherited that same lethal style. His mind drifted back to Wolf Mountain, where they had fought side by side. Even then, he had been secretly astonished. Her movements were lightning-fast, her strikes deadly precise. She never hesitated, never wasted a single motion. A soldier’s way of fighting. On the battlefield, there was no time for flashy moves—only quick, decisive kills ensured survival.

Oliver himself was a martial arts enthusiast. Watching Isolde’s skillful display, an itch stirred in him. He bent. With a flick of his wrist, the tree branch evaded her whip’s grasp, darting straight for her forehead.

She bent low, the branch grazing just above her. Using the momentum, she slid across the ground, her whip whirling back in an attempt to coil around his legs. If she caught him, he would be thrown off balance.

But Oliver anticipated it. The moment she struck, he leapt lightly onto the whip itself, using it as a foothold to flip through the air. Spinning mid-flight, he reversed his grip on the branch, aiming for her throat.

Fast—too fast! Isolde twisted away just in time. Spinning on her heel, she unleashed a whirlwind of strikes, her whip creating a vortex around her. If Oliver dared to step closer, his branch would be snapped in two. She grinned at him, triumphant.

But Oliver only smiled. Kicking off the ground, he soared straight up, twisting mid-air. He came down with dizzying speed, his spinning motion disrupting her whip’s controlled arcs.

Hattie and Hazel stood at the doorway, mesmerized.

“He’s gotten so much stronger,” Hattie whispered.

“Isolde’s not weak either,” Hazel replied.

“At first, they were fighting seriously. Now… it’s more like play.”

“Dueling is always a give-and-take,” Hazel mused. “They’re testing each other’s moves, not trying to kill each other.”

“Testing?” Hattie scoffed. “They’re flirting.”

With that, she spun on her heel and walked away. “What a disgrace to martial arts!”

Hazel watched as Oliver and Isolde, locked in a heated exchange, fell into a tangled embrace mid-spin. Their eyes met, something unsaid passing between them.

Hazel turned away, unimpressed. “Not even fun to watch anymore.”

And with that, she left.

The Swordswoman’s Revenge Story after Rebirth