CH13
Long Xiaoyao stepped inside the Grand Banquet Hall. Dressed in white. He looked not like a mortal, but like a banished immortal descending from the Nine Heavens.
Yet, a collective ripple of confusion washed over the Young Masters and Young Misses of Myriad Leaf City.
Resting casually across this ethereal figure's shoulder was a stick. The Branch of the World tree. Though in the eyes of others, it merely looks like a common stick
He held it with one hand. His posture is slouching slightly. Walking with the swagger of a mountain bandit returning from a heist rather than a noble attending a banquet.
Behind him followed Mo Qingqui. She wore the attire of a palace maid, yet the fabric could not conceal her natural nobility. Her expression was a mask of cold, elegant detachment
She did not look at the crowd; she looked through them, her icy aura making the air around her seem to drop in temperature.
"He is... breathtaking," a daughter of the Li clan whispered, blushing behind her fan. "But... why is he carrying a piece of firewood?"
"Is that the latest fashion in the Imperial Capital?" a Young Master muttered, frowning
Long Xiaoyao ignored the whispers. His gaze swept over the Grand Room, taking in the lavish spread, the frozen dancers, and finally, the table.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
There was an empty seat at the table, yes. But it was situated at the left a position of lower status.
In the center seat, the position reserved for the guest of honor and the highest authority, sat Meng Hao.
Meng Hao held a wine cup to his lips, a faint, mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He had arranged this banquet to welcome the Prince, yet he had seated himself as the host and king, relegating Long Xiaoyao to the side. It was a silent slap in the face, a test of dominance.
Long Xiaoyao's lips curled into a lazy grin. He adjusted the wooden stick on his shoulder, contrasting absurdly with his fine white robes, and began to walk.
He did not walk toward the empty seat on the left.
He walked straight down the center, past the frozen dancers, his footsteps silent yet heavy with intent. Mo Qingqui followed at a pace behind
Meng Hao's smile stiffened as he watched Long Xiaoyao approach him directly.
Long Xiaoyao stopped right in front of the center table. He looked down at Meng Hao, his presence looming.
"Brother Meng," Long Xiaoyao said, his voice smooth and carrying to every corner of the silent hall. "You really are too polite."
Meng Hao frowned slightly, confused by the lack of anger. "Your Highness?"
Long Xiaoyao chuckled, shifting the stick from one shoulder to the other. "I know that as a Prince, the center seat belongs to me by right of status. But to think you would personally sit in it just to warm it up for me? That is a level of servitude I didn't expect from the Young Master of the Meng clan."
The room went deathly quiet. The insult was wrapped in silk, but it struck like a dagger. Long Xiaoyao had just publicly called Meng Hao a servant warming his master's chair.
"I..." Meng Hao started, his face flushing a dark shade of red.
"You can get up now," Long Xiaoyao interrupted, his tone suddenly dropping the pleasantry, becoming commanding and sharp. "Or did you forget who the Prince is?"
Meng Hao's hand tightened around his wine cup until his knuckles turned white. Inwardly, he was screaming, feeling the urge to strike this bandit-prince down. But under the gaze of the entire city's elite, and bound by the hierarchy of the kingdom, he had been cornered.
With a stiff, jerky motion, Meng Hao stood up. He forced a smile that looked more like a grimace.
"Of course not, Your Highness," Meng Hao gritted out through clenched teeth. "Please. Take your rightful seat.
[+9 Domination Points]
The other nobles exchanged glances. They had come expecting a display of the Meng family's dominance over the 'neglected' Sixth Prince, but the predator had just been treated like a lapdog.
A series of crisp, mechanical chimes rang out in Long Xiaoyao's mind echoing with the sweet sound of success.
[Ding! Host has shaken the foundations of the Meng family's authority!]
[The Prestige of the Meng Family has decreased by 100 points!]
[Converting prestige loss into authority...]
[Host has gained +100 Domination Points!]
[Current Domination Points: 1,439]
Long Xiaoyao felt a surge of warmth in his chest as the points settled in.
He sat down in the center seat with grace. He rested the rough wooden stick vertically against the floorboards between his legs, holding it loosely.
Then lifted the stick a fraction of an inch and let it drop.
*Thud.*
It wasn't a loud sound, but the moment wood met wood, a visible ripple of air blasted outward from the point of impact. It rushed across the floor like a sweeping tide, causing the wine in every cup on the long table to dance violently and splash over the rims.
A heavy pressure descended upon the room the unmistakable aura of spiritual energy.
"Qi... That's Qi!" someone gasped.
"The Qi Refining Realm! His Highness has stepped onto the path of Immortality!"
The shock was palpable. In Myriad Leaf City, mortals were many, but cultivators were rare treasures. To see a Prince, previously rumored to be delicate, and display such power changed everything.
"Congratulations to Your Highness!"
"An Immortal!"
Amidst the chorus of flattery, Young Master Wang, whose face was flushed crimson from too much wine, blinked bleary eyes. He pointed a shaking finger at the center table.
"Wait a minute," Wang slurred, his voice cutting through the praise. "Why didn't Young Master Meng mention this? We were just mocking an Immortal... burp... isn't that seeking death?"
"Shut up!" The Young Master sitting next to Wang turned pale. He slammed his hand over Wang's mouth, wrestling the drunkard back into his seat. "He's too drunk, Your Highness! Please forgive his nonsense!"
Long Xiaoyao didn't even look at them. He waved his hand dismissively, his grin widening.
"Musicians! Dancers! Why have you stopped?" Long Xiaoyao boomed, leaning back and propping one leg up on the other.
"Play something lively! I'm in a fantastic mood today. After all, it's not every day one survives an onslaught of nearly a hundred Iron-Hide Beasts."
"A-a hundred?" a Young Master stammered, his face draining of color. He looked at the rough wooden stick in Long Xiaoyao's hand with newfound terror, as if it were a divine artifact. "Your Highness faced a beast tide of Iron-Hide Beasts... and lived to tell the tale?"
"Heavens above," a Young Miss gasped, covering her mouth with a trembling hand. "Even the City Guards will struggle to take down a few of them. But to face a hundred?"
The imagery took hold of their imaginations. They pictured a sea of fur and gnashing teeth, a black tide swallowing the forest, and standing against it, the solitary, white-robed figure of Long Xiaoyao, wielding nothing but a stick.
"If it were me..." Young Master Wang shook his head vigorously, the alcohol momentarily forgotten in the face of such horror. "I wouldn't even have time to scream before I was torn to shreds!"
"Torn to shreds? You'd be lucky to be left as scraps!" another noble youth exclaimed, looking at Long Xiaoyao with eyes full of worshipful stars. "To survive such an onslaught requires more than just cultivation. It requires destiny!"
"Exactly!" A daughter of the Chen family stood up, her voice trembling with emotion. "It is the protection of the ancestors! His Highness is truly the Son of Heaven!"
"The Son of Heaven! Long live the Prince!"
The murmurs of agreement grew into a roar of approval. In their eyes, Long Xiaoyao had transformed from a rejected prince into a mythical war god in the span of a few heartbeats.
The sycophantic praise began to pour in like a flood, a chorus of voices suddenly eager to curry favor with the newly awakened Prince.
'These people...' Long Xiaoyao thought, a sense of profound disgust swirling beneath his calm exterior. He has heard them talking about him behind his back while in the corridor.
As a Qi refining cultivator, naturally, his senses are far stronger than those of a mortal. And it's not like they are covering in a low voicewhile mocking him
'Their opinions change as fast as one flips the pages of a book. A bunch of fakes. Moments ago, I was a waste of space to be ridiculed. Now, because I showed a hint of teeth, 'I'm son of Heaven.' They don't have a single drop of sincerity in their marrow, only the instinct to flatter whoever holds the biggest stick.'
To these elites, loyalty was a currency spent only when it was profitable, and truth was whatever kept them on the winning side.
Besides Long Xioyao, Mo Qingqiu's eyelid twitched slightly.
'Hundreds?' she thought, her expression remaining beautifully stoic. 'It was a pack of fifty at most. And Your highness have been knocked out immediately after the battle started'
But she remained silent. Letting Long Xioyao have his moment of glory
"Oh, right," Long Xiaoyao added, as if suddenly remembering a trifle. He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "And this is Mo Qingqui."
The crowd looked at the cold beauty, captivated by her appearance but dismissing her status as a mere servant.
"She's my maid," Long Xiaoyao continued lazily. "But she's also broken through to the Qi Refining Realm."
The music, which had just started up again, screeched to a halt for the second time.
The silence was heavier than before. A Prince becoming a cultivator was one thing, he had royal blood and resources. But a maid? A servant girl stepping into the realm of Immortality? That was unheard of in a city like this.
In their families, having a single cultivator was the foundation of their power. Long Xiaoyao had one while pouring his wine.
Long Xiaoyao scanned the stunned faces of the Young Masters and Misses, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
"You know," he said, his voice dropping
"It seems that luck follows those who follow me. Perhaps... just perhaps... those who stick by my side might find the path to immortality opening for them as well."
[Using a cold beauty as bait. How shameless]
The implication hit the room like a thunderclap. He wasn't just bragging; he was recruiting. He was suggesting that following him offered a better future
The young nobles stole glances at one another, their eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and burgeoning greed.
'Follow him... and find the path to immortality?'
The thought was intoxicating. In this world, the gap between a mortal and an immortal was like the distance between the mud and the clouds. They were the scions of wealthy families, yes, but those are wealth of mortals. Not even worth a glance for the immortals that could soar into the heavens
Their gazes shifted collectively toward Meng Hao, who stood nearby, his face pale and his fists clenched.
For as long as they could remember, the Meng family had been the undisputed hegemon of the city. They were the dominant figures, the ones everyone bowed to. But as the nobles looked at Meng Hao, a bitter realization began to fester in their minds.
'The Meng family has ruled us for decades,' one young lord thought, his eyes narrowing. 'We've offered them tributes, given them our best resources, and served them like dogs. And what have they given us in return? Nothing but a cold gaze and more demands.'
Another noble thinking, 'The 6th Prince... he speaks of immortality as if it's a gift he can bestow. If we stick by his side, could we truly transcend?'
The atmosphere shifted. The respect that had once naturally flowed toward the Meng family was being redirected, like a river diverted from its course. They looked at Meng Hao not with their usual reverence, but with a growing wariness and even a hint of resentment.
[The Meng Family's Prestige has decreased!]
[Domination Points +500]
Long Xiaoyao watched the prompt with a faint, imperceptible smirk. He didn't need to say another word. The silence of the room was already shouting his victory.
The nobles were no longer looking for a master, they were looking for a god. And he was more than happy to play the part.
Meng Hao, who had been forced to stand off to the side like a glorified attendant, felt his blood boil.
This was a blatant attack. The Meng family controlled Myriad Leaf City because they held the monopoly on martial power. Long Xiaoyao was publicly poaching the loyalty of the city's future clan leaders right in front of Meng Hao's face, using a maid to prove that he could turn chickens into phoenixes.
Meng Hao's hands trembled, the humiliation burning in his chest, but as he looked at the eager, hungry expressions on the faces of the others, he realized with a sinking heart that Long Xiaoyao's bait was incredibly effective.