120: Chapter 120: Only the Smell of Wine and Meat

The laughter rolling from the throat of Tuoba Ye was low and resonant, like muffled thunder rumbling within his chest. It shook the jade flagon filled with amber spirit wine on the table before him, causing it to sway gently and ripple.

His greasy, thick-knuckled hand was clutching a large, sauce-red, glistening pork knuckle that was still steaming slightly.

The knuckle was stewed until tender, with the distinct texture of fat and lean meat, and the oil shimmered with an enticing luster under the night pearl.

His thumb and index finger sank deeply into the soft, glutinous skin and fascia. With a slight exertion, he tore off a large, trembling piece of meat coated in thick sauce.

Meat juices dripped down his beard, but he didn't care. He stuffed the whole piece into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he chewed heartily, making a satisfying, mouth-watering "smacking" sound.

In this tower filled with the scent of blood and deathly silence, it seemed exceptionally abrupt, yet it brought a strange, vivid breath of mortal life.

"So what if it's green!"

He swallowed the mangled meat in his mouth, smacked his lips in satisfaction, and casually wiped his greasy hand on his lapel, leaving behind a few shiny oil stains. His voice remained loud.

Even when deliberately lowered, it was like a heavy stone pestle striking a large bronze jar; every word carried significant weight, splashing out crisply:

"Does he, Second Prince Wu Yuanchen, really have the ability to skin me, Tuoba Ye, dismantle my bones, and swallow me alive?!"

The tone of his words, however, took a sharp turn here.

He tossed the clean, glistening bone he had gnawed clean into the bone dish before him with a "clatter," the sound ringing out crisply.

Immediately, he curled a thick finger and rapped it hard against the hard pear-wood tabletop with a "thud!"

The sound was not loud, but it carried a certain heavy force.

The carefree, gluttonous, roguish, and naive expression from just a moment ago receded from his face like a tide.

In his bell-like eyes, a rare sense of solemnity and sharpness instantly gathered. His gaze crossed the messy table, cast directly toward the main seat.

"But, Brother—"

He licked his thick, sauce-stained lips. His voice dropped lower, yet every word remained clear, as if declaring an unquestionable conviction:

"This Senior Brother of yours, this temperament, these methods—"

He paused, a flash of undisguised admiration and awe in his eyes:

"I, Tuoba Ye, am impressed!"

He was never one for whispering. This "deliberately lowered" voice was still like fragments of ice, striking the cold bronze vessels one after another with a "clinking" sound, clearly splashing into the ears of several Prodigies at the neighboring tables who were also of rough origins or had fought their way out through sheer strength.

Those few people's expressions shifted slightly, and they all simultaneously lifted their eyelids in secret.

Their gazes first swept extremely quickly and cautiously over the young man in black robes who sat steadily as a mountain in the main seat, his posture relaxed—that person even had the leisure to rest his fingertips on the rim of the long-cooled teacup, gently stroking it, as if the shocking turmoil just now, which crippled a person's cultivation and severed a head, was truly just brushing a fallen leaf from his shoulder, having nothing to do with him.

Immediately, their gazes quickly skimmed over the nearby face of Second Prince Wu Yuanchen, which was already livid to the point of turning black, yet slightly twisted with fear.

Almost simultaneously, the few of them nodded inwardly.

Compared to the Second Prince's usual aloofness and bossiness—which in reality relied more on status and power to suppress others, and faltered the moment he encountered a tough opponent, a mere "bluff"—this "First Prince," who had just returned and dared to act with the most ruthless methods, possessed a thunderous decisiveness and a firm Heart-Nature, where he would strike the moment he spoke and determine life and death in a casual conversation. This was much more to the liking of this group of Prodigies who believed in strength above all and had carved out their own names while licking blood from the edge of a blade.

At this moment, Second Prince Wu Yuanchen seemed to be nailed to the spot by an invisible, icy immobilization spell.

His entire body's muscles were as stiff as stones; even moving a pinky finger was incredibly difficult.

That face, which a moment ago had flashed with a hint of triumph and pleasure at the arrival of Minister of War Leng Jiangchan, was now a mottled mix of green and white, shifting uncertainly, as if someone had splashed a bucket of thick ink on it and then haphazardly mixed in pale lime. The colors were chaotic, looking frighteningly ugly.

Even his well-defined jaw was tensed into a cold, hard line from gritting his teeth too tightly, trembling slightly.

His hands hanging at his sides were clenched into fists, the knuckles protruding from extreme exertion, presenting a bloodless, deathly white color on the verge of shattering, his nails almost embedding deeply into the flesh of his palms.

Behind him, those loyal guards, seeing their master humiliated, were both shocked and furious. Their hands had subconsciously pressed onto the hilts of the swords at their waists, their boot soles scraping uneasily on the ground, making a soft "rustling" sound, preparing to step forward to protect their master.

However, Second Prince Wu Yuanchen suddenly turned back, as if scalded by fire!

He pressed down on the hand of the guard closest to him, who was already gripping his sword hilt.

His eyes stared fixedly at his own guard, burning with anger that was suppressed to the limit and almost bursting forth. Yet, at the base of those flames, there was clearly a layer of undisguisable, icy cowardice and fear—

Even a great general like Minister of War Leng Jiangchan, who had the backing of powerful ministers, held military power, and was himself at the Void Refining Middle Stage, was crippled and executed by Xuanyuan Zhanxian just like that, as if crushing an ant!

With these guards of his, who were at most at the Golden Core or Nascent Soul Stage, charging up now would be useless, other than adding a few more corpses to this bloody banquet and making him, the master, lose even more face!

He took a deep breath, and that breath, when drawn into his lungs, carried the chill and humiliation of ice shards.

Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's Adam's apple rolled up and down with great difficulty, as if he were trying to swallow his surging anger, grievance, and fear, along with the vicious curses that were about to burst forth, forcing them all back into his stomach and pressing them deep into his already churning viscera.

He forced a smile onto his face.

The smile was as stiff as if he were wearing a crudely made, ill-fitting wooden mask. The muscles at the corners of his mouth pulled upward unnaturally, as if being pulled tightly from behind by a few coarse hemp threads, looking ten or a hundred times uglier than crying.

"Royal Brother..."

He spoke, his voice dry and hoarse. Every word sounded like it was being forced and ground out from between rusty gears, accompanied by a teeth-aching, subtle grinding sound:

"What... excellent methods."

He paused, and it took almost all his strength to spit out the second half of the sentence, filled with endless humiliation, word by word:

"Today... it was this younger brother who was abrupt. The main seat of this Prodigy banquet... shall be handed over to you, Royal Brother."

Xuanyuan Zhanxian's fingertips were still carelessly and slowly stroking the cold rim of the celadon teacup.

His gaze, like a king patrolling his territory, slowly swept across the room.

It swept past the guests who, although keeping their heads down, were still "whispering" with their eyes and subtle movements.

It swept past the guards behind Second Prince Wu Yuanchen, who dared to be angry but not speak, their hands still on their sword hilts, yet they lacked even the courage to meet his eyes.

Finally, that calm, waveless gaze, like two bottomless, cold pools, landed on Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's face, which was even more twisted and ugly from his forced smile.

His voice rang out, as flat as stating "the weather is fine today," without a hint of a victor's triumph, nor any mockery for the loser:

"If you have nothing else to do, Second Brother,"

His tone was casual, as if he were merely reminding an ordinary guest:

"Then please, take your seat."

He paused, as if just remembering something, and added lightly. The tone remained flat, making it impossible to tell whether it was a well-meaning reminder or the most biting mockery:

"After all, it is your banquet."

"We can't have all the guests... standing and waiting, can we?"

This last, light sentence, however, was like a fine needle quenched in ice and ground to extreme sharpness, piercing with precision and ease into the most sensitive, painful, and humiliated nerve endings of Second Prince Wu Yuanchen!

He took another sharp breath, his chest heaving violently due to the intense emotional turmoil. That stifled breath, mixed with anger and humiliation, was about to break through the blockade of his throat and turn into the most vicious roar!

But he could only, once again, use all the patience of his life to force that almost out-of-control emotion back deep into his heart.

He pulled at the corners of his already stiff mouth and repeated, his voice carrying a kind of near-exhausted, numb obedience:

"Royal Brother is right... yes... it is this younger brother who has lost decorum."

After speaking, he turned around, stumbling slightly with a clear sense of instability, and walked toward the guest seat that had been prepared for him but was not the main seat.

The hem of his black brocade robe, which should have hung elegantly and symbolized his status, now swept across the smooth, blood-stained floor, unexpectedly revealing an undisguisable sense of wretchedness and panic.

The others who originally belonged to the Second Prince's faction, or officials and aristocratic disciples who secretly leaned toward the Second Prince, seeing this, were all as silent as cicadas in winter. Their faces turned pale, like quails whose necks were tightly gripped by an invisible giant hand. They breathed lightly and slowly, not daring to even let out a deep breath.

No one could have expected that this First Prince, who had disappeared for a full five years and had been almost forgotten by everyone in the dust of time, would, upon his return, dare to brazenly strike at the Lanyue Tower banquet, which the Second Prince had meticulously prepared under the gaze of everyone!

And he did so with such a strong, ruthless, and unquestionable posture, turning the situation that the Second Prince had painstakingly managed upside down, causing him to lose all face!

Xuanyuan Zhanxian seemed completely unaware of these subtle changes around him.

He slowly picked up the long-cooled tea before him.

His fingertips pinched the smooth, cold rim of the cup, gently and casually turning it.

Then, he lowered his head and, toward the surface of the tea soup, which was as calm as a mirror and had absolutely no "tea dregs" to blow away, he symbolically and extremely elegantly blew a breath.

His appearance was composed and leisurely, carrying a unique, bone-deep elegance and detachment characteristic of a noble Young Master.

It was as if the bloody turmoil just now, which crippled the cultivation of Minister of War Leng Jiangchan, beheaded him in public, and terrified the entire hall of guests to the point of Soul Flying Away and Spirit Scattering, was truly just him casually brushing off an insignificant speck of dust from the rim of his cup during his leisure time.

"Everyone,"

He lifted his eyes, his gaze looking calmly downward. His voice was not loud, but it strangely carried a power that penetrated the heart, clearly entering the ears of everyone present who still retained consciousness:

"Eat well, drink well."

Above the rim of the cup, the sparse white vapor that rose due to his light blow drifted away, misting over his eyes, which were as deep as the night, making the cold and sharp edge within them seem to soften and blur slightly.

But this haze, far from diminishing his prestige, added a sense of unpredictability, aloofness, and mystery that kept others at a distance.

He put down the teacup, the bottom of the cup making a light "click" sound as it touched the table.

His gaze, unhurriedly, swept across the room again.

The guests who were just below, "whispering" with their eyes, breath sounds, and extremely small movements, exchanging shock and fear, now all lowered their heads tightly, as if that gaze were a red-hot branding iron that would burn upon contact.

The jade chopsticks they held in their hands, when touching the exquisite porcelain dishes and bowls before them, were all used with deliberately light force, cautious and careful, for fear of making even the slightest sound.

Even their breathing was deliberately slowed and lightened, as if they feared the rise and fall of their own chests would disturb that "First Prince" who had just displayed thunderous methods in the bloodiest of ways.

"Regarding what just happened,"

Xuanyuan Zhanxian's voice rang out once more. This time, his flat tone seemed to be infused with a strange, gentle warmth, carrying a peculiar power that soothed the heart.

It was like a piece of top-quality brocade in winter, warmed by the midday sun, softly draped over a cold heart; the warmth seeped in slowly, without scalding.

"I trust it must have startled everyone."

His slender fingertips tapped lightly, neither too hard nor too soft, against the smooth tabletop.

"Tap, tap."

The sound held a certain heavy rhythm, causing everyone's heart to skip a beat involuntarily.

Immediately after, his tone grew heavier, possessing an indisputable, sentencing-like majesty:

"But, rules are rules."

His gaze was like lightning. Although he did not look toward the headless corpse, everyone understood what he was referring to.

"Whoever breaks the rules of this Prodigy Banquet and disturbs everyone's refined mood must be punished."

He paused, each word clearly branded into the air:

"Minister of War Leng Jiangchan, committing an offense against a superior, showing no respect for status, and publicly threatening a prince of the current dynasty."

"This is the fate he deserves."

As his voice fell, he paused slightly, as if giving everyone time to digest these "rules" and this "fate."

Then, he performed a subtle action that caught everyone off guard.

He reached out and picked up the antique-styled ewer beside the table, which shimmered with a warm, silvery glow. Leaning slightly, he slowly poured clear, slightly emerald tea into the empty celadon cup in front of Shadow Guard Ying Yue, who stood silently at his side with a face as cold as frost.

The tea flowed from the spout, tracing a slender, crystalline arc as it poured silently into the cup. The surface of the water rippled slightly, creating fine, gentle rings.

The fresh aroma of tea, mixed with the curling steam, quietly dispersed, creating an eerie and stark contrast to the nauseating scent of blood that had not yet fully dissipated in the air.

"As for all of you,"

He raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping slowly across the room once more. His eyes were calm, yet they carried a strange, reassuring certainty.

"As long as you keep to your own affairs and do not cross the line."

He set down the silver ewer, his voice steady yet each word heavy as a thousand catties:

"Your Highness guarantees that for the remainder of today's banquet—"

"There will only be the fragrance of fine wine and delicacies,"

He paused slightly, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the guests who looked the most terrified, "There will absolutely not be a single moment of violence."

These words were like a soothing pill with a cooling effect dropped into boiling oil.

Although it could not completely dispel the blood and fear permeating Lanyue Tower, it strangely allowed the tense atmosphere, which had been stretched to the breaking point, to finally loosen just a fraction.

A few guests who were slightly bolder, or who considered themselves uninvolved in the previous conflict, quietly and extremely slowly raised their wine glasses.

Their fingertips still trembled slightly and uncontrollably due to the lingering fear.

They signaled to each other with their eyes, then touched the rims of their cups together extremely lightly and almost silently, before immediately withdrawing them, as if it were a shameful and risky ritual.

Discussions, lowered to almost nothing but breathy whispers, flowed quietly within several small circles like the buzzing of mosquitoes:

"The First Prince's methods... are a bit ruthless, but one has to admit, he truly knows how to command the scene... Just now, Minister of War Leng Jiangchan was so arrogant and overbearing, looking down on everyone; if it were anyone else, they probably wouldn't have been able to suppress him..."

"Who could say otherwise! The father-son duo of Heir to the Marquis of Zhenbei and Minister of War Leng Jiangchan have relied on their family status and military power to run rampant in the Imperial City for quite some time. Today, they dared to publicly insult and threaten a prince—that is tantamount to treason! By law, they should be beheaded! Your Highness the First Prince... is actually showing mercy."

"If it were me, being pointed at and berated like that, I probably would have drawn my sword in retaliation long ago; I wouldn't have wasted so many words on him! Your Highness the First Prince has quite a fiery and tough personality! He's a real man!"

Second Prince Wu Yuanchen sat stiffly on the "guest seat" prepared for him, which was second only to the main seat.

His fingers gripped the white jade wine cup in front of him with all his might.

The cold touch of the white jade seeped through his palms, but it could not cool the sticky, icy sweat constantly oozing from his hands.

The cold sweat flowed silently down between his fingers, gradually soaking the smooth surface of the cup, making the white jade appear even more lustrous, yet also... slippery and difficult to hold.

The wine in the cup sloshed uneasily due to his uncontrollable, slight trembling, splashing a few drops from time to time onto the incredibly luxurious brocade robe that symbolized his status as a prince, leaving several dark, hard-to-ignore stains. However, he was completely oblivious to it.

His entire focus had been seized by Xuanyuan Zhanxian's words just now, and that nonchalant demeanor as if he controlled everything!

Those words, that posture, were like red-hot, barbed steel needles, one by one, piercing deep into his heart, churning repeatedly, bringing sharp stabs of pain and boundless humiliation!

He never imagined that Xuanyuan Zhanxian would not only dare to behead his general in the cruelest way right in front of him, on his own turf, but also dare to speak of "rules" and "punishment" so righteously and grandiosely!

How was this an explanation? It was clearly a declaration to him and to everyone else of who the true Dominator was here! It was trampling his last shred of remaining face and prestige underfoot, grinding it into the mud!

He cast a quick glance from the corner of his eye toward the strategist beside him, who was known for his cunning and whom he relied on as a confidant.

He wanted to signal the man to find some way to smooth things over, to say a few words to recover some of the lost ground, or even just to slightly ease this suffocating atmosphere.

However, the strategist's reaction made his heart grow even colder.

The man's face was pale. The moment he met Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's gaze, he shook his head quickly and minutely, as if stung by a poisonous scorpion.

His lips moved ever so slightly, and with a mouth shape that only Second Prince Wu Yuanchen could decipher, he silently and urgently spat out a few words: "Do not... act rashly!"

Second Prince Wu Yuanchen clenched his back teeth so hard that the muscles on both his cheeks bulged, sending waves of aching pain. He could clearly hear the irritating "grinding" sound of his teeth rubbing together.

His fury, which threatened to incinerate his rationality, was like a mad beast locked in an iron cage, thrashing left and right in his chest, yet unable to find any outlet for release.

He could only force himself, using all his strength, to suppress those flames that were about to erupt, pressing them back deep into his already churning internal organs.

He lowered his head abruptly and, almost brutally, downed the wine in his hand that had long since lost its temperature and flavor!

That which should have been a mellow, sweet, and priceless nectar now slid down his throat, leaving only an indescribable bitterness, as if mixed with the bitterest coptis and the strongest bile. It was bitter from the tip of his tongue to the bottom of his heart, spreading through his blood to his limbs and bones, and even his internal organs felt as if they were being soaked in a vat of ice-cold, excruciatingly bitter venom.

Princess Xia Zhiqing sat quietly in her seat in the corner, her gaze complex as it rested on the figure in black in the main seat, who had picked up his teacup again, his posture as composed as if he were merely attending an ordinary tea party.

Her heart was filled with a mix of emotions, as if a bottle containing all five flavors had been overturned.

Before, in the palace, she had heard rumors and stories about royal infighting and brothers turning against each other.

In her imagination, that should have been schemes with hidden undercurrents, cold blades hidden behind gentle words and laughter, silent poison in the corners of the imperial garden at night, or a bright white silk scarf suddenly appearing beneath a brocade quilt... it was shameful, damp, and viscous conspiracy.

Yet she had never imagined that real power struggles could be so... sharp and exposed, so... direct and brutal!

Like the most violent thunder, tearing open all hypocritical disguises, laying the bloodiest and cruelest rules bare in broad daylight!

However, amidst this shock, a cold realization, carrying the metallic scent of blood, slowly welled up in her heart.

She sighed softly, the sigh barely audible, dissipating into the air filled with the scent of blood and tea.

If he were not this ruthless, this decisive, and willing to establish his authority in the cruelest way... this First Prince, who had just returned from the outside world, had no Foundation in the court, and had been almost forgotten or even "assumed dead" by everyone, would have likely already been swarmed by the Second Prince and the intricate, deep-rooted forces behind him, like jackals smelling blood, and devoured until not even a bone fragment remained.

In this world where the weak are prey to the strong and strength is supreme, especially in this most ruthless of imperial families, sometimes, concession and gentleness never earn respect and peace; they only lead to even more unbridled bullying and deeper traps.

Only with a fist hard enough, methods ruthless enough, and a heart cold enough—demonstrating power sufficient to crush everything and instill fear deep into the marrow—can one hold onto the inch of ground beneath one's feet, and protect... those around you whom you wish to protect.

"Brother Chu!"

A boisterous call, accompanied by a satisfied burp, jolted Princess Xia Zhiqing's drifting thoughts back to reality.

Tuoba Ye had already gnawed that massive pork knuckle down to the last bit of tendon. He tore it off with force, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed vigorously with bulging cheeks. Then, with a "pfft," he tossed the bone, now clean and devoid of even a shred of meat, casually into the bone dish in front of him, creating a crisp "clatter."

He raised his large hand, still glistening with grease, and without ceremony, slapped it—stained with oil and the smell of meat—onto Chu Zhanxiao's shoulder with a "thwack." His bell-like eyes were filled with undisguised admiration and appreciation. Although his voice was lowered, it still made one's eardrums buzz:

"Your Senior Brother's aura, his style! If he doesn't go to the border to be a general commanding a million troops, it's a damn waste of such talent! This is what you call truly 'commanding the scene'! He's better than those guys who only know how to hide behind others, talk tough, and play dirty tricks, but turn into spineless cowards the moment something actually happens—he's better than them by who knows how many mountains! Satisfying! It's damn satisfying!"

Chu Zhanxiao's shoulder sank under the slap. He lifted his hand in annoyance, forcefully pushing that greasy hand off his shoulder. Frowning, he pulled out a snow-white handkerchief with a look of disgust and vigorously wiped the clear, greasy fingerprints off his brocade robe.

"Stop rubbing that on me! You reek of pork knuckle, it's nauseating!"

He complained, his tone full of disgust, yet deep within his lowered eyes, there was a complex gleam that flashed by so quickly that even he might not have noticed it.

In this gleam, there was helplessness, a headache over this simpleton's lack of awareness of the occasion, but deeper down, it also hid a trace of undeniable admiration for the courage and methods displayed by the figure in the main seat.