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

At these words, Zhou Feifan frowned slightly. While he could evade attacks with a flute, dodging with a painting board much larger than the flute seemed troublesome. Could it be that Ye Yong sensed he was taking this seriously and was merely playing along, thinking that losing wouldn’t be shameful?

“It’s not that I look down on painting; on the contrary, using art to combat foes is quite formidable, but it requires one to be above the Golden Core stage. You are merely at the third layer of crystallization…”

“It’s worth a try,” Ye Yong replied, producing a modest-sized painting board, a charming smile gracing his face as he walked toward the center of the grand hall.

As Ye Yong approached, Zhou Feifan felt an unsettling sensation rise within him. It was the same smile Ye Yong had worn while playing the flute earlier. Yet, he reassured himself that Ye Yong was only at the crystallization stage; no matter how skilled his painting might be, how formidable could it truly be? Moreover, this time he could attack Ye Yong directly, unlike last time, and he could utilize his Golden Core spiritual energy—there was no way he could lose.

“I’ll give you time to paint, so it doesn’t end too quickly.” Zhou Feifan was well aware he was bullying a child, and precisely because of this, he felt he should “go easy” on Ye Yong.

“Thank you very much, Prince Feifan.” Ye Yong’s calm demeanor unsettled Zhou Feifan. It was clear to anyone with eyes that he intended to suppress Ye Yong, yet Ye Yong remained friendly, as if striking a fist against cotton—utterly ineffective.

Qin Shidream glanced at Ye Yong’s back, then at the sixteenth prince, and subtly shook her head, for she could already guess the outcome.

50 Drawing the Sword and the Brush

Zhou Feifan painted with time, and Ye Yong would certainly not disappoint this goodwill; or rather, everything Zhou Feifan was currently doing unfolded just as he had envisioned.

After all, the actions of such a villain were all too predictable—arrogant and proud. While it couldn’t be said he was blind to the world, his gaze was indeed lofty, dismissing the common folk entirely. Since he looked down upon Ye Yong, the only recourse was to force his way into the narrow crevice of his vision, to be branded upon his pupils, ensuring he would remember him completely, understanding that beyond the mountains, there are more mountains, and beyond people, there are more people. Lest in the future, the emperor provoke the protagonist, only to become a prince himself and stir trouble.

According to the nature of the world’s consciousness, Ye Yong felt that among the many princes, Zhou Feifan was the most likely to oppose the protagonist. Ye Yong did not intend to save the royal family of the Great Zhou Dynasty; it was simply because the Great Zhou had ties to the Ye family. He had always been a man of caution, and any trouble that could be resolved would naturally be attempted, seeking a lasting solution.

With his right hand holding the brush and ink, and his left hand gripping the drawing board, Ye Yong, clad in white, resembled less a painter and more a celestial being drawn from the canvas. His eyes held the essence of stars, deep and mysterious, every movement exuding a natural aura that was pleasing to behold.

He seemed to ponder for a moment before lifting his brush to the board, each stroke resonating with strength, his movements graceful. Zhou Feifan could not see what Ye Yong was painting, yet an unsettling feeling grew stronger within him. The board was limited in space, yet Ye Yong’s brush never ceased, as if the board could never be filled with ink.

The ministers, the emperor, and the princesses seated nearby could see the content on the board, but they were not painters and could discern nothing of substance. Their most genuine feeling was simply, what is he painting?

Gradually, the board became stained black, a solid mass of darkness. Zhou Suren, utilizing the keen eyesight of a transcendent being, finally realized that Ye Yong was not merely smearing the board with ink; each stroke revealed the shadow of a beast. The shadows were so densely packed that the board appeared entirely black, yet between each shadow lay an almost invisible gap.

What confidence, what mastery of the brush, must one possess to achieve such a feat?

Zhou Suren cast a glance at Ye Wen, as if to say, what is your grandson up to?

Ye Wen’s lips curled slightly, nodding in acknowledgment, indicating that this was all basic technique, calm and collected.

On the spaceship returning Ye Yong home from Tianluo Sect, Ye Wen had the fortune to witness Ye Yong create two paintings embodying the essence of the Nascent Soul. The crystallization of cultivation, the essence of the Nascent Soul—what level was that? It was akin to an elementary student solving an academic problem that even university students would struggle with. Yet, Ye Wen was not a painter, so he found it difficult to evaluate Ye Yong. In short, one could say, my Yong’er is simply amazing.

Moments later, Ye Yong halted his brush, looking toward Zhou Feifan, still smiling, his tone friendly: “I’m done painting. Are you ready, Prince Feifan?”

Zhou Feifan tightened his grip on the sword, unconsciously increasing the pressure. He forced himself to remain calm: “You’re painting so slowly; I was ready long before you stepped up.”

In truth, it had only been a mere ten seconds.

“Then shall we begin? Your Majesty, please give the command.”

Zhou Suren was curious about the outcome this time. Although he did not genuinely believe Zhou Feifan would lose—after all, with the Golden Core cultivation and the Golden Core Sword Intent facing a mere crystallization of the third layer, it was a complete mismatch—Ye Yong’s displayed composure, that steadfastness like a mountain, led him to think things were not so simple. Just like the melody he had just exhibited, who could have predicted what the result would be?

“Begin!” Zhou Suren declared, skipping any countdown.

Ye Yong shook the drawing board, and dozens of ink-colored beast shadows appeared around him, while he swiftly retreated.

Zhou Feifan, unwilling to embarrass himself further, saw the multitude of beast shadows emerge and immediately unleashed a powerful sword technique.

The beast shadows were merely at the threshold of the Golden Core stage; how could they withstand such might? In a single strike, half of them were obliterated without any suspense. Zhou Feifan began to regain his confidence, even finding humor in the ominous premonition that had briefly clouded his mind.

What did it matter if the weak were numerous?

He dispatched the remaining beast shadows, only to turn and find dozens more had appeared on Ye Yong’s side.

His eyelids twitched slightly. Had Ye Yong’s painting speed increased? But it mattered not; they could do nothing to him.

Zhou Feifan executed his sword technique once more, the Golden Core spiritual energy surging with immense power. The crystallized beast shadows shattered upon contact, dissipating into a wisp of ink smoke.

Just as he struck, Ye Yong had pulled back again, and by the time Zhou Feifan finished off this batch of beast shadows, he noticed yet another wave had emerged from Ye Yong’s direction.

??

Zhou Feifan had already exerted himself to the utmost to eliminate the beast shadows, yet why did it seem that Ye Yong’s painting speed was even faster?

Shouldn’t the speed of drawing a sword surpass that of wielding a brush?

This time, Zhou Feifan focused all his attention on Ye Yong. With his formidable sword technique, he elegantly eradicated the beast shadows, only to see Ye Yong, maintaining his distance, casually sweep his brush across the canvas, conjuring dozens of beast shadows.

What kind of painting speed was this?

In Shang Qianzong, where Zhou Feifan trained, there was a Nascent Soul painter responsible for training disciples with ink shadows. Ye Yong’s painting speed was not far off from that of the steward, but the issue was, wasn’t Ye Yong merely at the crystallization level? Could it be that his understanding of painting had reached the Nascent Soul level? Just as a crystallized sword cultivator might grasp the essence of Nascent Soul sword intent? Was that even possible?

Regardless of possibility, Zhou Feifan only believed in what he could see. Fortunately, the beast shadows Ye Yong conjured were not of high caliber; no matter how many there were, they were of little consequence.

It was nearly time to end this.

Zhou Feifan ceased his wide-scale extermination of beast shadows, locking his gaze onto Ye Yong. Thankfully, this time he could attack the caster directly; otherwise, he would be trapped in a stalemate once more.

With confidence, Zhou Feifan thrust his sword through the throng of beast shadows, aiming straight for Ye Yong, demanding his surrender. Yet, an uncanny scene unfolded—Ye Yong, with incredible speed, distanced himself.

Zhou Feifan immediately pursued, but Ye Yong not only managed to evade each time but also effortlessly waved his brush, summoning more beast shadows.

“Is that… an Earth-level movement technique? The Dragon’s Dance! And it’s at the minor completion stage! Hiss!” Soon, a minister recognized the movement technique Ye Yong was employing, gasping in astonishment.

“To have mastered a top-tier Earth-level technique at minor completion with merely crystallization cultivation… this Young Master Ye…” The ministers exchanged glances, deeming Ye Yong to be extraordinarily gifted.