The sea mist was hazy, and Wang Xiao stood at the very front of the warship's deck, his hands gripping the railing trembling slightly.
He was both the deputy head of the Imperial Dragon Soul Master Regiment and a retainer of Xu Zihuang's family. The soldiers of the former Imperial Dragon Soul Master Regiment who had defected with him were all direct retainers of Xu Zihuang's household.
A young man, who looked no more than thirty, walked out from the cabin to the deck, quietly coming to stand behind Wang Xiao. His build was slender, his refined and delicate features feminine to the point that, if not for the obvious masculine traits at his throat, he could easily have been mistaken for a woman at first glance.
His black hair was meticulously combed, draped over his shoulders, exuding the air of an elegant gentleman. Unlike the soldiers of the Imperial Dragon Soul Master Regiment who wore deep purple dragon-patterned armor, he was dressed in a luxurious white robe for soul masters.
The youth stepped forward to stand beside Wang Xiao at the railing, his deep black pupils following Wang Xiao's gaze toward the dim sea in the distance.
"Uncle Wang."
"Yaoyang, you didn't have to come with us. If this fails, you'll be forced to live in exile like us. Your family's hereditary title, passed down for a thousand years, will likely be stripped away as well." Wang Xiao continued to stare toward the distant sea, the stern eyes of a tiger showing rare flickers of other emotions.
Yaoyang gave a bitter smile and shook his head, yet his tone was resolute.
"If not for His Highness and you back then, I wouldn't even be alive today. My family's bloodline would have ended with me, let alone the matter of a hereditary title. If it's exile, then exile it is. I've already grown tired of such a stable life. The Prince's kindness is something I can never repay in this lifetime. Now, with the chance to rescue his only child—if I were to stand by and do nothing, I could never forgive myself."
"If we succeed in rescuing the young master this time, you may not have to abandon your title as Viscount of Yuenan."
A trace of reminiscence flickered in Wang Xiao's eyes. He was not surprised by Yaoyang's stance. With an inexplicable light smile, he patted the young man on the shoulder.
Yaoyang's eyes lit up at once.
"Uncle Wang, does that mean you've agreed to my earlier proposal?"
"We'll speak of that once the young master is rescued."
Wang Xiao waved his hand, giving no definite answer, then turned toward the soldiers who were already fully prepared.
Meng Cang, who had been gravely wounded earlier, was among them. Thanks to the treatment of healing-type soul masters, his external injuries had mostly healed, but such trauma was not something that could be fully recovered from in a short time.
Casting a cold glance at Meng Cang, Wang Xiao kicked him out of the ranks.
Among these former Imperial Dragon Soul Master Regiment soldiers, Wang Xiao clearly held great authority. The deck fell silent. Meng Cang opened his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately closed it.
Wang Xiao then selected five more men to remain behind on the ship with Meng Cang. Without another word, he waved his hand and leapt directly off the deck toward the sea.
Yaoyang and more than forty of the former Imperial Dragon Soul Master Regiment soldiers followed close behind, soul power flashing in the darkness.
Small boats were taken out from soul tools, one after another floating upon the sea.
These boats were peculiar: no sails, narrow hulls, each with only three seats.
Strictly speaking, each was a Class 3 soul tool, engraved within with a Class 3 propulsion core array. As long as soul power was infused, they could maintain high-speed travel.
The men alternated in channeling soul power into them, keeping themselves at peak strength while maintaining formation as they sailed toward a faintly visible island in the distance.
Suddenly, Yaoyang, sharing the same boat as Wang Xiao, underwent a complete transformation. His long black hair scattered in the wind, his once-gentle aura turning deathly cold. His body became illusory, dissolving into a pitch-black shadow as thick black mist rose at his feet. His black eyes turned blood-red.
It was eerie.
One yellow, three purple, three black—seven spirit rings rose beneath him, a configuration far beyond the norm. Though he appeared not yet thirty, he was already a Soul Sage-level powerhouse.
As the fifth black ring shone, he said in a deep voice, "Stay within the range of my fifth soul skill."
Before his words had finished, the soldiers and their boats vanished from the sea's surface, as though the previous scene had never existed.
On the warship, Meng Cang struck the deck with his fist, his face full of unwillingness.
Among the soldiers left behind, a youth of about seventeen or eighteen hurried to help him up. With features strongly resembling Meng Cang's, the boy's simple face revealed clear discontent.
"Father, you clearly earned great merit this time. The commander treating you like this is really unfair."
The discontent was not only for his father, but for himself as well.
Eager to make a name for himself, his very first mission with the Imperial Dragon Soul Master Regiment had ended like this. It was impossible for him not to feel resentful.
Hearing his son Meng Lang's words, the frustration vanished from Meng Cang's face. He snapped his eyes open, swung his right arm wide, and slapped his son hard across the face.
Bang, bang, bang— Meng Lang was sent flying dozens of meters, slamming into the deck and bouncing three times before sticking against the iron railing. The force of that slap was obvious.
"You fool!" Meng Cang's chest heaved in anger, his earlier injuries stirred, and he coughed up blood.
Meng Lang, enduring the burning pain in his face and body, lowered his head in fear and grievance before his furious father.
Only after a long while did Meng Cang press his forehead and sigh to Meng Lang. "Didn't you notice? The commander left behind only the old ones, or those whose soul power hasn't reached rank fifty. Your soul power is only rank forty, and you haven't even obtained your fourth ring yet. What could you possibly contribute if you went along? You'd only be a burden. Out there are two Soul Master Regiments. Though the Western Sea Soul Master Regiment isn't as strong as ours, they're still among the few elite regiments of the Sun Moon Empire."
"Forget it, old Meng. Meng Lang is just young and hot-blooded. Weren't we the same back then?"
The five older soldiers who had been left behind were all veterans. One of them quickly stepped in to smooth things over, helping Meng Lang up. It was Lao Cheng.
"Lao Cheng, don't defend this fool."
Meng Cang's gaze toward Meng Lang was still fierce, but seeing his brothers-in-arms of decades intervening, he could not lash out again.
Meng Lang stood up, touching his swollen cheek, his face full of grievance.
He was simple and honest, but not stupid. He wisely chose not to provoke his father further.
…
Inside the brightly lit first-floor hall of the castle, Xu Zihuang silently sat at the central main seat, sipping fresh fruit juice recently brought from the Sun Moon Empire's mainland. On his left sat Hai Xiao, on his right sat Yu Yun, head of the Lan Hai Soul Master Regiment, who had escorted a hundred noble ladies here.
That regiment had been formed in a border city on the western sea of the Sun Moon Empire.
Its soldiers were of uneven quality, far inferior to Hai Xiao's Western Sea Soul Master Regiment. Their numbers were only a hundred.
Yu Yun, though older than Hai Xiao by decades, had only just broken through to Soul Sage, relying on medicinal aids. He was unlikely to ever progress further. Before Hai Xiao, an eighth-rank soul engineer, his demeanor was exceedingly humble.
Propping his chin on his right hand, Xu Zihuang lifted his head. The hall was full of noble ladies, their chatter filling the air, though he knew many of their eyes were actually fixed upon him.
A self-mocking laugh echoed in his heart. The scene before him reminded him of the days before his exile to this island.
Back then, he was the powerful sole son of a Prince. Nobles across the Sun Moon Empire had tried every means to send their daughters to his residence, hoping for the slightest chance of a marriage alliance.
How similar this was to then—yet his circumstances now were utterly different.
The noble ladies in the hall—some cold and elegant, some pure and innocent—all tried, consciously or not, to show him their best side.
But the sorrows and joys of men do not interconnect. Xu Zihuang only found them noisy.
Still, for the sake of satisfying his cousin Xu Tianran, he pretended to be choosing among them.
Perhaps, as Hai Xiao had said earlier, he could keep all of them. But that did not match the character he had always shown.
To avoid trouble, he decided he would choose only ten.
Of course, according to his own preferences. After all, he had no need to wrong himself.