Volume One: Turmoil in Yan and Yun Chapter Nine: The Showdown (Part One)

The dispute over the merits of the Demon-Banishing Battle dragged on throughout the meal, though only two people at the table were truly involved. It became like a comedic dialogue, with the Fourth Prince and Murong Xue initially intrigued, but gradually feeling more like spectators at a show.

Both the imperial prince and the celestial maiden of the Murong family were figures accustomed to being admired by all, and had seldom been treated so indifferently.

During a lull—one brother eating scorpions, the other sipping tea—the Fourth Prince seized the moment to ask, “The Wind and Sand Festival in Yanbei is approaching. Has the heir considered participating?”

The Wind and Sand Festival was an unusual ritual, held throughout the Divine Dynasty under various names. Its main purpose was a coming-of-age ceremony for the younger generation, where all those in Yanbei who had reached sixteen would gather for challenges by combat.

Feng Qi stood at the top of the Flowing Breeze Ranking; not just in Yanbei, but across the entire Divine Dynasty, few among the younger generation could match his prowess. The festival held little appeal for him, and it was unlikely any disciple of Yanbei would dare to challenge him. Thus, he most likely had no intention of participating, which was the reason for the prince’s question.

Feng Qi, recalling the strange opponent he had encountered on the northern steppes, shook his head. “I’ll see when the time comes.”

The Fourth Prince was surprised. “Do you truly intend to compete?”

Feng Qi repeated, “I’ll see when the time comes.”

The prince felt a jolt of alarm—could he really be planning to compete? Wouldn’t that be unfair?

Feng Yang patted Feng Qi’s shoulder. “Besides, my younger brother will be participating as well.”

The Fourth Prince found this explanation satisfactory. So, it was to keep his brother company.

Feng Qi saw the misunderstanding in his eyes, but couldn’t be bothered to clarify. Instead, he turned to Murong Xue. “Will you participate?”

The festival was not limited to those born in Yanbei; anyone within its borders could test their skills. Murong Xue was no exception. She had little interest in the festival at first, but now that Feng Qi was involved—and there was a chance of meeting that peculiar youth from the desert—it seemed the journey might not be wasted after all.

Feng Qi advised, “I suggest you refrain.”

Murong Xue retorted, “How is that your concern?”

Feng Qi replied, “If you fail to reach the top three, it would reflect poorly on the Chancellor’s household.”

Murong Xue thought, aside from you and that strange youth, who else in Yanbei could possibly best me?

Feng Qi cast a glance at Feng Yang, chuckling softly without explanation.

Murong Xue frowned. “Don’t speak in half-truths; it’s infuriating.”

Feng Qi answered nonchalantly, “I’ve said all there is. Miss Murong, do as you please.”

Murong Xue, exasperated, snorted coldly and left in a huff.

Feng Yang worried his elder brother had gone too far.

With Murong Xue gone and the evening drawing late, the Fourth Prince surmised that Commander Hao was growing impatient at the courier station, so he too rose to take his leave.

Feng Qi offered, “Shall I see you out?”

The Fourth Prince declined, “No need.”

Feng Qi nodded. “Very well, but these days are unsettled—take care on your way back.”

The prince replied, “However chaotic things may be, with the Wind and Sand Formation guarding Yan Yun, what have we to fear?”

He paused, then, with deliberate intent, remarked, “Murong Xue is a woman of rare grace and wisdom—marrying her would not be beneath you.”

Feng Qi understood these words were not truly from the prince himself. This was more likely the voice of the Crown Prince, echoed through another’s mouth.

———

It was deep into the night by the time Feng Qi returned home.

Feng Muyun was still awake in the main hall, with Steward Fei in quiet attendance. He awaited Feng Qi, wanting to ask about the marriage proposal. He could not shake a feeling of foreboding.

And as fate would have it, his worst premonitions came true. When Feng Qi and Feng Yang entered, they were met with a thunderous expression.

Feng Yang wisely stayed behind his elder brother.

“Father, has something happened?” Feng Qi asked.

Feng Muyun fixed him with a hard stare, enunciating each word: “What exactly happened today?”

At last, Feng Qi understood the cause of his father’s displeasure, and smiled. “What could have happened? Murong Xue wanted to spar, so I obliged. Since she was a guest, I made sure to entertain her thoroughly.”

Feng Muyun’s anger flared. “Then why did you use such ruthless techniques? Even in our clan’s internal duels, the Wild Dragon Tremor is strictly forbidden! Did you not know that? What if she couldn’t withstand it? What if you failed to control your strength? Such recklessness, and you dare boast before me?”

Feng Qi thought his father was being unreasonable. Murong Xue, after all, was sixth on the Flowing Breeze Ranking; few even among the elite could match her. If he held back at every turn, winning would become far more troublesome.

Yes—troublesome, not impossible. Even shackled, she was no real threat in his eyes.

After his rebuke, Feng Muyun felt his anger subside somewhat. He then asked, “What are your thoughts on marriage with the Murong family?”

This was the question Feng Qi dreaded most. Rubbing his nose, he mumbled, “What can I say... Perhaps... we should forget it?”

Steward Fei’s gaze grew thoughtful.

Feng Yang now regretted not heading directly to the inner quarters upon returning.

Feng Muyun’s voice rose threefold, “What did you say?!”

Feng Qi braced himself. “I simply have no such feelings for her.”

Feng Muyun was now certain he hadn’t misheard, his face dark as scorched bread. “Ungrateful child! Have I spoiled you so, that you dare say anything you please?”

Feng Qi thought, but wasn’t it you who asked?

“Parental command and the matchmaker’s word are well and good, but I have no interest in someone whose heart belongs elsewhere.”

Feng Muyun retorted, “This isn’t some romantic tale. Where do you expect mutual affection?”

Feng Qi replied, “Even so, it can’t be mutual resentment. A harmonious family prospers; if we truly marry, wouldn’t we spend our days bickering?”

Suddenly, Feng Muyun asked, “Do you know who stands behind this union?”

Feng Qi answered with a trace of irony, “The emperor, is it? Does that make it sacred?”

Feng Muyun barked, “Insolent! Are you trying to provoke disaster?”

Feng Yang, seeing the tension escalate, wanted to mediate. Steward Fei coughed twice, silencing him.

Feng Qi said, “Father, I wish to go to the Snowcloud Sect.”

Feng Yang had known this was coming and showed no surprise.

Steward Fei, stroking his large belly, sensed things were growing complicated.

Feng Muyun pointed at Feng Qi, words failing him as he tried and failed three times to speak.

A breeze drifted through the hall.

Vital energy stirred in the air.

A sharp aura emerged.

A gleaming sword, cold and radiant, appeared in Feng Qi’s hand; three feet and three inches long, its blade was as clear as a mirror.

In that reflection, Feng Muyun saw his own stormy face.

This rebellious son—he had forged a sword with his own vital essence!

Did that not make this sword his very soul?

Was this not madness?

“I know it was unfilial not to consult you first, but the opportunity is before me—I wish to try.”

———