NOVEL WEB chapter 450
After several rounds of counterattacks and evasions, Zhou Baizhu began to falter. Just as the spirit, with a swift upward thrust, sent her sword flying and prepared to strike a victorious pose, a figure burst through the grand hall’s entrance, shattering the spirit with a single stroke of his sword.
The spirit, now dispersed, could not reassemble, clearly having suffered from an overwhelming blow, its primal energy damaged. Ye Yong’s flute melody abruptly ceased; with the spirit’s disappearance, he too felt the backlash, a sensation akin to a recoil. Fortunately, it was not severe—just a tightness lodged in his throat, refusing to release.
“Trivial skills,” the newcomer remarked, his features strikingly handsome, bearing a resemblance to Zhou Suren.
“Fan’er, what is the meaning of this?” Zhou Suren’s tone remained calm, betraying no hint of anger.
“Father, how could the invitation for Ye Tianjiao to be our guest proceed without me?” The other held a sword in one hand, the other casually resting behind his back, exuding an air of superiority.
Interrupted mid-performance, Ye Yong felt a flicker of annoyance, but upon seeing the newcomer’s expression and hearing such words, his spirits lifted instantly.
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48 Sixteenth Prince
Standing in the center of the grand hall, the young man was strikingly handsome, clad in the same attire as the Eighteenth Princess, the garments of the Shang Qian Sect. Different sects had their own methods of distinguishing disciples, and Shang Qian Sect used the color of waist tokens and sashes.
Zhou Caiying, as an inner disciple, wore silver, while the young man donned gold—undoubtedly a true disciple of some elder.
“Fan’er, do not be rude,” Zhou Suren intoned, his voice low. He was quite fond of this prince named Fan’er; otherwise, he would have long since forced him to leave. The reason was simple: this prince possessed extraordinary talent.
At 27, with a six-colored foundation, and at the seventh level of Golden Core, what does that signify? The top prodigy on the Golden Core list of the Great Zhou Dynasty, he ranked among the elite on the entire Eastern Continent’s Golden Core prodigy list. Though different realms had their own rankings, it could be said that before Ye Yong emerged, he was the brightest star among the young cultivators of the Great Zhou Dynasty, the object of everyone’s admiration. After all, few could achieve Golden Core before the age of 30, let alone reach the seventh level.
“Father, I haven’t done anything; how could I be rude?” The young man chuckled, turning his gaze back to Ye Yong. “Allow me to introduce myself; I am Zhou Feifan, the sixteenth in my family. You must have heard of me, yes?”
His tone dripped with arrogance, yet those present seemed accustomed to it, as if his manner of speaking was simply his nature.
Ye Yong certainly knew of Zhou Feifan, a born holy body, undeniably a prodigy in terms of aptitude. Accomplished at a young age, in the novels, he broke through to the Nascent Soul at 30, reached the fourth level of Nascent Soul by 33—his life could have soared like a rocket. Alas, he was burdened with a father who was a complete failure, ultimately leading him to stand opposed to the protagonist.
Among the deceased princes, he was the last to fall, and it was his death that shattered Zhou Suren, driving him to madness, leading to his demise at the hands of the protagonist within a formation.
Why are formations so difficult to master, and why do formation masters command such reverence? Because once given time to set up, they can confront foes beyond their level; as long as the formation is strong enough, realm becomes irrelevant. The protagonist relied on formations to defeat many formidable opponents, and in the novels, numerous grandfathers of the Ye family also perished within such formations.
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Otherwise, would the protagonist of the Nascent Soul go head-to-head with the Transformation God? Simply relying on strength to surpass limits has its constraints.
Zhou Feifan directly asked if Ye Yong had heard of him, a display of confidence. If Long Tian were present, he would surely snort in disdain, indicating he had never heard of him, mocking and inciting hatred. But Ye Yong was different; he aspired to be the strongest passerby of high quality, mindful of the consequences of his actions, and would only flaunt his superiority in a meaningful way, not just for the sake of showing off.
He rose from his seat, slightly cupping his hands towards Zhou Feifan: “Who does not know the Sixteenth Prince of the Great Zhou Dynasty, Brother Feifan?”
“Don’t act so familiar with me; you may not have the right,” Zhou Feifan replied, disdain evident on his face.
Ye Wen remained silent, and Zhou Suren kept his silence as well; this was a clash between the young.
To be honest, a bit of roughhousing among the youth is not a problem; it stirs their competitive spirit. Ye Wen and Zhou Suren had gone through the same, after all—no fight, no acquaintance.
Though Zhou Feifan was older and more skilled than Ye Yong, if the two were to truly spar, there would be no need for anyone to remind him; Zhou Feifan would naturally suppress his realm to match Ye Yong’s. Otherwise, it would be his own face on the line.
“Feifan, mind your words; I’ve told you many times, do not bully others.” The Eleventh Princess, Zhou Yunqi, though not as skilled as her half-brother, still had the right to admonish him as an elder.
“Indeed, Lord Ye Yong is a guest; your attitude might lead outsiders to think our royal family lacks decorum,” the Ninth Princess, Zhou Feiyu, chimed in sharply.
“Exactly, exactly,” the Fifteenth Princess, Zhou Hongling, echoed repeatedly.
With three sisters speaking up, Zhou Feifan huffed, “I didn’t say anything wrong.”
“Sixteenth Brother, Young Master Ye Yong is merely being polite with you,” the Eighteenth Princess, Zhou Caiying, sighed.
“There’s really no need to take it so seriously,” the Twentieth Princess, Zhou Baizhu, nodded in agreement.
“Brother Feifan, that’s impolite,” the Twenty-Third Princess, Zhou Xiaodie, murmured softly.
“…” Zhou Feifan fell silent. I merely wanted to put Ye Yong in his place, to keep him from being too arrogant, yet here you all are, siding with an outsider?
“Prince Feifan is actually right; it was I who was abrupt,” Ye Yong smiled, trying to smooth things over.
Yet Zhou Feifan took no pleasure in it, finding it rather grating: “I’ve heard you’ve changed your focus to sound and painting, yet you still grasp the essence of the Golden Core Sword Intent. I’m currently breaking through to the Nascent Soul Sword Intent, but I still lack a bit. My master says I can review the old to learn the new. I wonder if Lord Ye, the Heavenly Prodigy, could assist me in this, allowing me to experience your Golden Core Sword Intent?”
First, he subtly flaunted his nearing mastery of the Nascent Soul Sword Intent, then cast out bait, emphasizing the title “Heavenly Prodigy” to stir Ye Yong’s combative spirit. Zhou Feifan had some tricks up his sleeve.
However, even without this tactic, Ye Yong could not refuse, for he had waited far too long for a chance to show off.
“In the presence of Prince Feifan, I, Ye, am unworthy of the title ‘Heavenly Prodigy.’ However, at your request, I shall do my utmost to assist,” Ye Yong did not speak harshly; on the contrary, he maintained a humble demeanor, even complimenting his opponent. This was what they called, “to suppress first and then elevate,” giving a taste of sweetness before letting them endure the bitter.
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“Come up, don’t worry, I won’t harm you.”
The grand hall was spacious, originally designed to host guests, often filled with performances of talent, the space ample enough for all.
Ye Yong did not leave his seat: “Before that, why not let the extraordinary prince experience my path of melody?”
Zhou Feifan recalled the battle spirit that had vanished with a mere poke of his sword moments ago, feeling quite impatient: “What’s so special about the path of melody? Just come at me, let me experience your sword intent instead.”