I Just Wanted To Live but I Somehow Became Better Than the Protagonist

Thus, the eldest prince was barely ninety. Yet, in the realm of cultivators, age mattered little; what counted were strength, talent, and appearance.

Once the six princesses were seated, their gazes, whether intentional or not, drifted toward Ye Yong. One could only say, as expected of royalty, their self-control was commendable. However, the youngest princess seemed unable to look away, her eyes fixed on him.

Ye Yong smiled at her, prompting her to shyly avert her gaze, though she still stole glances at him from the corner of her eye.

—

Ye Wen’s gaze swept over the six princesses, a sense of satisfaction blooming within him. Though none matched Qin Shiming in beauty, they were not far behind.

Qin Shiming wore no expression, merely plucking a spirit fruit, placing it in her mouth, and chewing thoughtfully.

47 Awakening Spirit

Zhou Suren had twenty-three children—seventeen sons and six daughters. The princesses, born of different consorts, bore distinct appearances.

The Ninth and Fifteenth Princesses clearly belonged to the military; rather than being merely beautiful, they possessed a rugged charm uncommon among ordinary women, exuding the aura of female generals clad in battle armor, standing shoulder to shoulder with men.

The Eleventh Princess was enveloped in the fragrance of books, her gaze gentle as water, a rare scholar among them. Scholars wielded words as weapons, needing no external tools.

The Eighteenth and Twentieth Princesses were esteemed disciples of the sect, graceful and poised, their garments adorned with tokens marking them as inner disciples, signifying their high status within the sect.

The Twenty-Third Princess had yet to reach the age for sect initiation and could not join the military, remaining in the palace. With a slightly round face and a lingering childishness, her furtive glances at Ye Yong, tinged with shyness, were utterly endearing.

“You young ones should introduce yourselves and get to know each other,” Zhou Suren began, steering the conversation. After all, he hadn’t summoned his daughters for a mere display or feast; he sought to forge connections with Ye Yong. If sparks flew, a beautiful union could blossom. Having tested the waters, Zhou Suren had no objections left regarding Ye Yong; on the contrary, he felt fortunate to have such a son-in-law, one so perceptive and gifted.

The first to speak was the Ninth Princess, who clasped her fists before Ye Yong and Qin Shiming, her voice robust: “I am Zhou Feiyu, at the fifth level of the Golden Core, currently serving as a vanguard commander in the Southern Ridge Army, skilled in leading breakthroughs through enemy lines.”

“Zhou Yunqi,” the Eleventh Princess chimed in, her tone soft: “I am at the fourth level of the Golden Core, a third-rank scholar of the Holy Academy. My interest lies in the study of ancient scripts and relics. Should you ever encounter incomprehensible ancient texts, do seek me out.”

“Zhou Hongling! Tenth level of crystallization!” The Fifteenth Princess sounded somewhat like she was mimicking the Ninth Princess, trying to sound mature: “I serve in the same legion as Ninth Sister, as a valiant cavalry commander, adept at tracking enemy movements. If you wish to learn how to discern traces, I can teach you.”

“Zhou Caiying, seventh level of crystallization, an inner disciple of the Shang Qianzong. I have long admired the renown of Young Master Ye and Miss Qin.”

“I am Zhou Baizhu, sixth level of crystallization, a disciple of the Han Qing Sect, practicing swordsmanship. I’ve heard that Young Master Ye has already attained the initial sword intent of the Golden Core; is that true?”

“Truth cannot be faked, nor can falsehoods become real. In time, Princess Baizhu will have the chance to find out,” Ye Yong replied with a smile, keeping the secret of his external aid to himself.

“How intriguing!” Zhou Baizhu’s excitement was palpable, and it was clear to those around her what she desired—to spar with Ye Yong. Yet before she could voice it, Zhou Suren prompted the final introduction from the Twenty-Third Princess.

“I am Zhou Xiaodie. Um, I’m eleven this year, at the fifth level of body refinement, almost at six. My favorite food is…” The Twenty-Third Princess, Zhou Xiaodie, grew increasingly quiet, overwhelmed by the tales she had heard of Ye Yong. At her age, blossoming into youth, how could she not idolize him? Especially after seeing him in person, even more handsome than she had imagined, simply sitting there, doing nothing, radiating a captivating glow that drew all eyes, leaving her unsure where to direct her gaze, her heart racing.

—

“Xiao Die seldom ventures out, and those who have seen her are few; she is a bit shy, so please do not mind.” Zhou Su Ren patted the head of Zhou Xiao Die, who sat beside him.

“Father, I have an ungracious request.” Zhou Bai Zhu was already somewhat impatient to exchange swordplay with Ye Yong.

“Since you know it is an ungracious request, then do not speak it.” Zhou Su Ren shot her a glance; how could one start a quarrel with a guest upon arrival?

“But Father…”

“There is no ‘but’ to be had.”

“It is said that Young Master Ye is well-versed in music; might Yun Qi have the fortune to hear a piece?” Zhou Yun Qi, as a scholar, possessed a high emotional intelligence. Instead of reprimanding her sister for her thoughtlessness alongside Zhou Su Ren, she deftly shifted the topic.

“Will Young Master Ye play a battle song?” Zhou Hong Ling chimed in, “I wish to hear a battle song. Ah, I apologize; if you cannot, then play what you excel at.”

In ancient times, entertainment was scarce; gatherings were not like modern ones where one could scroll through their phones to pass the time. Awkward small talk would only render the atmosphere more uncomfortable, thus performing talents became an essential activity at ancient gatherings.

Ye Yong glanced at Zhou Bai Zhu, who appeared somewhat sullen after being denied by their father, and smiled, “In that case, I do indeed know a battle tune, and it is related to the sword. Since Princess Bai Zhu wishes to discuss swordplay with me, why not give it a try?”

“Good!” Zhou Bai Zhu instantly perked up, drawing her sword and leaping to the center of the grand hall. “I am ready at any moment.”

“Then Princess Bai Zhu must be cautious.” Ye Yong produced a star-moon ring flute, twirling it skillfully between his fingers before bringing it to his lips.

The prelude of the battle spirit begins.

As the powerful notes of the flute rang out, the air beside Ye Yong stirred, and soon a skeletal battle spirit clad in armor, wielding a long sword, materialized.

Zhou Bai Zhu had only reached the sixth layer of crystallization; unlike the pseudo-Qiongqi with its Golden Core cultivation, she would not be in danger from a mere hammer strike, so Ye Yong naturally chose to hold back.

However, he could not hold back too much, for this was a third-grade spirit tune, and the battle spirit summoned should have been at the Golden Core level, though Ye Yong’s own cultivation limited it.

Under his further restrictions, the battle spirit was barely reduced to the seventh layer of crystallization, putting Zhou Bai Zhu at a slight disadvantage.

For a genius, a slight disadvantage was nothing; Zhou Bai Zhu did not retreat in the slightest but instead actively met the oncoming battle spirit.

“Clang!” The two swords clashed, producing a crisp and resonant sound. Zhou Bai Zhu felt a sting in her hands, surprised, and immediately pulled back.

The battle spirit offered no respite, its long sword slicing with sharp precision. Each strike was powerful and fluid, like a seasoned warrior.

In the past, Zhou Bai Zhu would have thought that music, aside from being uplifting, held little value; those who practiced it were mere weaklings. But today, witnessing the summoning of a battle spirit through music, her eyes were opened wide. Yet she was no pushover; soon, the sword in her hand emitted a resonant hum, unleashing the initial intent of a Golden Core sword, and with her swordplay, she directly shattered the battle spirit.

—

Before she could even savor her fleeting joy, the battle spirit coalesced once more, resuming its relentless assault.