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

—

If it weren’t for the fear of displeasing the Sixteenth Prince, they would have already showered him with a cascade of flattery.

Zhou Suren began to shake his head, having foreseen the outcome.

As for the Sixteenth Prince, who was determined to subdue the spellcaster, he chased for a while only to find he could not catch up. By the time he regained his senses, a dense swarm of beast shadows had gathered around him, numbering in the hundreds.

Ye Yong had not allowed the beast shadows to attack until now; with a mere thought, hundreds of them surged in waves toward Zhou Feifan.

Weak creatures are but weak creatures. Unless the beast shadows could reach the late stage of the Golden Core, they could not possibly harm Zhou Feifan. Zhou Feifan believed this too, as he continuously slaughtered the approaching beast shadows, only to find that his speed of killing could not keep pace with the rate at which the shadows were generated.

—

51 Sworn Brothers

Ants can kill an elephant; the beast shadows are the ants, and Zhou Feifan is the elephant. With his cultivation suppressed to the first layer of Golden Core, his explosive power was limited. Moreover, the beast shadows attacked in waves, leaving Zhou Feifan unable to eliminate them all at once, nor could he approach Ye Yong. The result was that he could only maintain a stern face, slashing at the beast shadows that drew near.

If earlier, when facing two peak battle spirits at the tenth layer of crystallization, the ministers could still boast about the three layers of crystallization, now this scene was beyond any praise—how could one even begin to flatter?

Truly, the Sixteenth Prince is remarkable, battling a horde of tenth-layer crystallized shadows at the first layer of Golden Core?

One feared that the prince would not only be displeased but would also fly into a rage. After all, it sounded like a veiled insult, no matter how one spun it.

“Your spiritual power seems to be running low,” Ye Yong murmured deliberately, loud enough for all to hear, before pausing his pen.

Without replenishment, the number of beast shadows quickly dwindled, until they were completely eradicated.

The scene fell silent; the ministers dared not stick their necks out, for this was not a moment for flattery but rather a time to be kicked for stepping out of line.

Ye Yong still refrained from any mocking words, simply putting away his paper and brush, and bowing to Zhou Feifan in a gesture of respect: “I concede, Prince Feifan.”

Zhou Feifan’s face turned ashen, struggling to calm his tumultuous emotions.

In their two previous “sparring” sessions, Ye Yong had urged him not to suppress his cultivation, but he had refused. After all, to bully the weak required some leniency to save face, yet in the end, it turned out that Ye Yong needed no such concession.

“Your understanding of painting techniques is profound; you are an excellent painter. But still, I must reiterate, your true form is too weak. Relying on these summoned entities, should you be ambushed without time to prepare, you will find it exceedingly difficult to face your enemies.” Zhou Feifan could only stubbornly hold his ground now, attempting to salvage the last shred of his dignity.

—

—

Indeed, he was not wrong. The cultivators of sound and painting focused on the nurturing of the spirit, unlike those of sword and blade. In terms of physical prowess, they might even fall short of their peers in the same realm, or even those of a lower realm. Yet Ye Yong was clearly different; he had mastered the minor form of the Dragon’s Dance. Zhou Feifan admitted that he could not match the speed unleashed by Ye Yong at the first layer of the Golden Core, but if it were his peak…

There should be no “ifs,” nor should such thoughts linger. If he truly tapped into his prime, a Golden Core at the seventh layer facing a crystallized third layer—he would not feel embarrassed, but others would surely feel the embarrassment for him, though he already felt quite awkward as it was.

“Indeed, without the initial painting time granted by Prince Feifan, I, Ye, could not prepare the shadow outlines in advance, making it impossible to summon the painted shadows so swiftly.”

Upon hearing this, Zhou Suren and the others seemed to grasp something.

What had appeared as a mass of ink on the canvas was, upon closer inspection, riddled with minuscule gaps. Each beastly silhouette was isolated from the others. Ye Yong had used his spiritual energy to separate these gaps, preserving the shapes of the beasts. Then, by simply splattering ink upon them, he could achieve the rapid generation of beastly shadows.

Though Zhou Suren and the others were not painters, there existed a common understanding among cultivators, allowing them to quickly comprehend the technique.

Had it been Long Tian, others would surely deem him merely clever, a mere opportunist. But Ye Yong was not the protagonist; even if he intended to downplay his remarkable abilities, the eyes of the crowd were sharp, fully aware that an ordinary crystallized painter could not reach such heights.

The ministers dared not praise Ye Yong, yet the princesses did. The first to speak was the Ninth Princess.

“Master Ye is truly a prodigy of this generation. My cultivation far surpasses yours, yet I cannot claim I could defeat you. This is indeed a curious matter.”

The Eleventh Princess nodded in agreement: “We, the cultivators of literature, are often looked down upon. If everyone were like Master Ye, who would dare to belittle us?”

“On the battlefield, an enemy with your abilities, creating a flurry of painted shadows to obscure traces, would be a true headache to track down,” the Fifteenth Princess remarked, her eyes gleaming with admiration. “As for me, I absolutely do not wish to be your enemy, Master Ye.”

“In our Shang Qianzong, there is a Yuan Ying painter. The speed at which you unleash beastly shadows is hardly slower than his. Elders have always said that cultivation is not everything; understanding the Dao is equally important. I did not comprehend this before, but now I do,” the Eighteenth Princess said, slightly bowing to Ye Yong in respect.

“You must be some kind of monster, or perhaps I have underestimated the arts of sound and painting,” the Twentieth Princess chuckled at the thought of her earlier challenge to Ye Yong. To attack the enemy without even engaging in battle—this was no different from a spell.

Spells were not something everyone could learn; only those with extraordinary talent and innate spiritual strength could achieve such feats.

The Twenty-Third Princess remained silent, but the way she clenched her small fists revealed the profound impression sound and painting had left on her. It was clear she would pursue this path in the future.

“Your Highnesses, you flatter me. I, Ye, merely understand a little and have been fortunate,” Ye Yong said with a humble smile, gently shaking his head, as if to convey his own considerable shortcomings.

Seeing this, Zhou Feifan felt a heaviness in his chest. It had always been he who surpassed others, yet today the tables had turned. The key was that Ye Yong showed no signs of boasting afterward, remaining humble and quiet, earning the admiration of those around him. Meanwhile, Zhou Feifan felt like a clown, losing face, which was intolerable for someone who had always been the center of attention and flattery.

“I have not had much exposure to sound and painting; these arts do not aid in the growth of my sword intent. I wonder if Master Ye remembers my initial request? Allow me to witness your sword intent.”

“This…” Ye Yong appeared hesitant.

“Feifan, enough,” Zhou Suren interjected softly, “No more nonsense. Master Ye has already indulged you long enough as a guest.”

—

52. A Twist of Fate