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

“Ye does not take it to heart, and I hope Prince Feifan does not dwell on it.”

“Learn from others, will you?” Zhou Suren sighed, speaking earnestly to his most favored son. “Though you indeed do not bully others as I have taught you, excessive pride and self-importance are equally undesirable.”

Zhou Feifan kept his head down in silence throughout. He wasn’t foolish; he understood his father’s disappointment well. No prince had ever been reprimanded before, and for it to happen to him for the first time spoke volumes.

At this moment, to speak out would be to invite further punishment.

Zhou Suren continued to lecture for a while, noticing Zhou Feifan’s quiet demeanor, as if he were humbly absorbing the lesson, before allowing him to sit. Just as he was about to summon a maid for tea, Ye Yong took out the tea set and began to brew a fragrant infusion.

It wasn’t that Ye Yong intended to show off; he simply wished to endear himself to Zhou Suren. After all, if he couldn’t secure a token from Old Gui when entering the treasury, he could still try his luck with Zhou Suren, a double layer of assurance.

“This technique… I did not expect you to grasp the art of tea at such a young age.” As expected, Zhou Suren’s gaze brightened a little more as he looked at Ye Yong.

“Just a superficial understanding, hardly mastery,” Ye Yong replied modestly, pouring fragrant tea for everyone present.

Zhou Suren picked up his cup, closing his eyes to savor the aroma. “You used He Gui Ye, didn’t you?”

“Truly worthy of Your Majesty; you can identify tea by scent alone. If it pleases Your Majesty, I have half a jin more.”

There are many types of spiritual tea leaves, and He Gui Ye is a rare third-grade spiritual leaf, one that ordinary people could hardly ever taste.

“At my thousand-year birthday banquet, an envoy from a remote little kingdom brought some. Don’t be fooled by its mere third-grade spirit leaves; it demands a great deal from its environment, yields very little, and its value surpasses some fourth-grade spirit leaves.” As he spoke, Zhou Suren took a sip. “However, in terms of flavor, it truly deserves to be called a rare treasure, worth every bit. It’s a pity that a few years ago, that little kingdom was besieged by the Demon Sect. Our support arrived too late, and it was ultimately conquered and destroyed. I thought I would never taste this tea again.”

Another detail lost to time.

Ye Yong noticed that the tea was priced higher than other third-grade spirit leaves in the system shop. Thinking it would be disrespectful not to offer something fitting for the emperor, he purchased it, not expecting that this tea would be familiar to Zhou Suren, along with such a little backstory.

Its origin was remote, and its environmental demands were great, which made Ye Yong worry that Zhou Suren might inquire about where he had obtained it.

“Keep the tea; your thoughtfulness is enough.” Fortunately, Zhou Suren waved his hand, not asking Ye Yong about the source. After all, in his mind, the Ye family, as a clan of cultivators, held influence not much less than that of the Great Zhou Dynasty. It was not surprising to acquire some rare treasures.

Ye Yong breathed a sigh of relief, deciding that next time, it would be better to avoid anything special and simply offer some common items to entertain guests.

As idle chatter began, it was mostly Zhou Suren and Zhou Yunqi asking questions, with Ye Yong responding, while Zhou Feifan remained silent, quietly sipping his tea.

The third-grade spirit tea was greatly beneficial for Golden Core cultivators. After a few cups, he felt the pain from where his father had struck him ease considerably, warmth spreading through his body, and his spiritual energy recovering significantly.

“The Sixth Prince has arrived.” Before long, a eunuch’s voice called from outside, followed by a senior eunuch bowing at the door, inquiring if Zhou Suren would allow the Sixth Prince to enter. Upon receiving an affirmative reply, Ye Yong saw a man clad in armor, looking to be in his twenties and bearing some resemblance to Zhou Suren, step inside.

The Sixth Prince was unremarkable, destined to be a short-lived pawn in the novel’s plot, leading a group of elite warriors to ambush the protagonist in a secret realm, only to be turned against and rendered useless.

Of course, he himself was not weak; with a cultivation level of the third layer of the Nascent Soul, and possessing elite Golden Core warriors, it could be said that the protagonist’s intelligence-debuffing effect was simply too strong.

“Father!” The Sixth Prince bowed as soon as he entered, while Zhou Yunqi and Zhou Feifan called him “Elder Brother.”

“Back already?” Zhou Suren nodded at the Sixth Prince, then shot a glance at Zhou Feifan, who hurriedly went inside to fetch a chair.

The Sixth Prince took his seat.

As for why he had come to join the gathering, it was primarily because Zhou Suren favored Zhou Feifan, and with Ye Yong, the current most celebrated prodigy, both staying in Zhou Feifan’s palace, the Sixth Prince surely felt anxious, fearing that Zhou Suren might secretly designate Zhou Feifan as the next emperor, with Ye Yong as his advisor.

Fortunately, Zhou Suren was willing to let him stay, which eased the Sixth Prince’s worries a bit.

Before he could even warm his seat, the Sixth Prince was about to eavesdrop on their previous conversation when another prince arrived.

In half an hour, one after another, more than ten princes gathered in the room.

Like the Sixth Prince, they were all filled with concern.

As princes, each harbored a desire to become emperor. They were not afraid of putting in the effort only to lose to a brother; they feared that the throne had already been secretly designated, rendering their efforts futile.

62. Boneless Chicken Claws

Ye Yong found himself face to face with the Nineteenth Prince, who was destined to ascend the throne in the novel. The prince was not much younger than him, and like the other princes, he bore the unmistakable features of Zhou Suren, their father. If one were to say which of the many princes appeared the most harmless yet was the most ruthless, it would undoubtedly be the Nineteenth Prince.

After all, what kind of heart does a man possess when he rises to power on the blood of his father’s enemies?

Yet, one could hardly blame him. Among the multitude of princes, he was the least favored. His mother had died young, and just like mortals, cultivators could face complications in childbirth. Lacking a mother who could whisper in the emperor’s ear, and with talents that were merely average compared to his brothers, he naturally found himself at a disadvantage, unable to compete on equal footing.

Thus, in the narrative, his ascension to the throne was often criticized, yet his ability to handle the affairs of the dynasty was not lacking. With the old turtle, a hidden guardian of the royal family, watching over him, rebellion had not yet reared its head.

As the gathering swelled with voices, the topics of conversation multiplied. It was not until the sun dipped low in the sky that Ye Yong suggested it was time to retire, prompting the assembly of princes to disperse.

Returning to his quarters, he still did not enter through the main gate but retraced his steps through the secret passage. Ye Yong inquired what would happen if someone discovered the passage and sneaked in. In response, Zhou Yunqi explained that the interior of the passage was rigged with mechanisms; once activated, no one could enter from the outside. All secret passages were set to default to active, and they had merely closed it when they left earlier, bringing him back through it to illustrate this point.

Ye Yong felt a sense of relief; his primary concern was the fear of someone sneaking into his quarters at night to frame him for something sinister. He had always been self-aware, understanding that he could never be the darling of the masses. There would always be those who wished him ill; better to be cautious and sail a ship for a thousand years.

“It’s getting late. You should rest well; there’s a national banquet tomorrow. I won’t disturb you any longer,” Zhou Yunqi said, appearing somewhat fatigued. She inclined her head slightly, preparing to leave, when suddenly she lost her balance and began to fall. Ye Yong, quick as a flash, rushed to support her.

“Are you alright?” His movements were still gentlemanly, hands resting on her shoulders without crossing the line into intimacy.

“Apologies, I’ve spent most of my time indoors studying scrolls, rarely venturing outside…” Zhou Yunqi’s cheeks flushed, feeling she had lost her composure.

The path of literary cultivation differed from martial cultivation; though both were at the Golden Core stage, her prowess manifested more in spiritual strength than in the robust physique of a martial cultivator.

The palace was vast, and Ye Yong knew that Zhou Yunqi had led him on quite a journey today. Just as he intended to help her sit down to rest, a graceful figure stepped through the doorway. Ye Yong’s gaze locked onto her, and he nearly lost his wits, hastily withdrawing his hands from Zhou Yunqi’s shoulders.

Zhou Yunqi, already somewhat weary, instinctively leaned toward him as he pulled away.