122: Chapter 122 Undercurrents

The voice of Third Prince Wu Huang was as clear and bright as the striking of Kunlun jade chimes, colliding against the towering gold-traced dome of Lanyue Tower. It shattered into thousands of crystalline sound waves, crushing and stirring every strand of stagnant air in the hall, then gently lifting it up.

The smile he deliberately spread out was like cicada-wing gauze lifted by a spring breeze, covering the shoulders of the seated guests with a soft, gentle warmth.

Yet beneath that gauze, cold currents of power and shadows of calculation were clearly surging, silently crawling along the table legs and the edges of candlelight, like a viper flicking its tongue—silent, yet piercing to the bone.

His gaze, wrapped in just the right amount of warmth, slowly swept across the room. As it brushed over faces that were either respectfully lowered or quietly probing, his eyes remained a calm, gentle lake.

But when his gaze collided with that figure in the main seat—his smile paused for an almost imperceptible moment.

It was like the surface of a calm, waveless lake being gently pricked by an ice needle, sending out a faint ripple before being completely smoothed over by his even brighter smile.

It was so fast that one might think it was merely a flicker of the candlelight, or perhaps just an illusion.

Yet in that pause, there was clearly frost.

It was disdain, the first layer of thin frost covering blue tiles in deep winter—cold and piercing, hidden in the deepest part of his eyes, only to be steamed away clean by his smile in an instant, leaving not a trace.

The entourage behind him followed closely.

The five-clawed golden Dragons embroidered on the hems of the princes' robes shimmered with a dark golden light under the dancing candlelight; every scale seemed alive, as if ready to break through the brocade and soar into the sky at any moment.

The tassels on the swords worn at the waists of the young Prodigies swayed gently with their steps—green, purple, silver—tracing sharp, fine arcs in the air, carrying the unique arrogance of talent and authority.

They crowded around Third Prince Wu Huang, like stars surrounding the moon, as they stepped into the hall.

Their boot soles landed on the mirror-smooth white jade tiles, striking a rhythmic and deep resonance that made the hanging crystal lamp tassels tremble with a rustling sound.

The radiance filling the room was stirred into instability, flickering on and off, causing the light and shadow on people's faces to shift as well.

The main hall, which had seemed empty and desolate due to the silence of the person in the main seat, was instantly filled with this vibrant yet sharp-edged "human presence."

The clamor surged like a tide; laughter, polite greetings, and the sound of robes brushing together wove into one.

Yet beneath this clamor, a string remained taut.

It was pulled extremely tight, extremely quiet, hidden in the marrow of the bustle.

Li Chengsi's footsteps were different from everyone else's.

He walked lightly and slowly, like a phoenix tree leaf led by the autumn wind, quietly avoiding the hottest wine fumes and gazes in the center of the hall, drifting alone to a corner to take his seat.

That was exactly where the candlelight met the shadows. Half his body was immersed in the warm yellow light, while the other half was hidden in the darkness cast by the screen. Even his trailing robes were half-bright and half-obscure, as still as an Incomplete Manual with uneven ink.

He became a touch of empty space in this grand banquet. When no one noticed, he had already taken everything in.

"Third Brother has arrived just in time." Xuanyuan Zhanxian finally spoke.

His voice was as flat as the autumn wind sweeping past the window, devoid of any emotion, as if the question that had made Second Prince Wu Yuanchen turn pale earlier had never resounded in this hall.

It even carried a hint of nonchalance.

His fingertips unconsciously rubbed against the rim of his white jade wine cup, the cold cup wall producing a tiny, fragmented "rustling" sound, so faint it was almost swallowed by the noise, yet it inexplicably made one's ears prick up.

When his gaze fell upon Third Prince Wu Huang, it was as calm as if he were looking at a jade ornament on a desk—neither intimate nor distant, possessing only a deep, bottomless indifference like a dark pool:

"We were just speaking of you. I thought you would miss Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's hospitality."

Upon hearing this, Third Prince Wu Huang laughed aloud.

His laughter was clear and open, like a running spring in the mountains, without a hint of awkwardness, instead revealing a sense of composed, carefree elegance.

He strode toward the head of the guest seats, his black robes unfurling like ink splashed with his steps. The hem swept across the floor, stirring up a light breeze that even made the silk flowers on the corner of the table shrink and tilt slightly to one side.

As he passed Second Prince Wu Yuanchen, their gazes met for a split second—like lightning and flint, intersecting in an instant; no one could see what was transmitted in that moment. One only felt a formless tacit understanding, slightly heating up in the air, then suddenly cooling.

The next second, Third Prince Wu Huang turned toward the main seat, his hands tucked into his moon-white brocade sleeves, and bowed.

His posture was dashing and clean, respectful but not overly humble, even the arc of his falling robes was just right, as if a demeanor honed over many years: "Eldest Imperial Brother, you jest! Second Imperial Brother is hosting this banquet himself; even if I had matters of the utmost importance, there is no reason for me not to come."

"It's just that before coming, I happened to meet a few imperial younger brothers at the palace gate, and also ran into some family friends. We stood under the carved corridor discussing insights on cultivation, from sword techniques to Mind-Cultivation Techniques, and for a moment, I forgot the time—it was truly my negligence, and I hope Eldest Imperial Brother and Second Imperial Brother will not take offense."

His words were apologetic, but his expression was calm and composed, the smile at the corners of his mouth not fading in the slightest, as if he had truly just been delayed by idle conversation.

This smile even rippled with a touch of clear innocence, making one unable to voice any doubts even if they had them, stuck in their throats.

Second Prince Wu Yuanchen looked at the suddenly increased number of figures in the hall, looking at those figures who vaguely took Third Prince Wu Huang as their leader, and the confidence that had just been pierced through by a single word from Xuanyuan Zhanxian, like a vine finding a trellis, crawled back up his spine bit by bit.

His back straightened slightly, and the panic in his eyes was gradually replaced by stability, but his smile remained somewhat stiff, like a poorly applied mask, with paleness still congealed at the corners of his eyes, unable to melt away.

"Third Brother is thoughtful! Quickly, please take your seat!"

He deliberately raised his voice, attempting to pull everyone's attention away from the "deterrence of Xuanyuan Zhanxian" and back to the "liveliness of the banquet."

His voice revealed an almost eager enthusiasm: "That all you Fellow Daoists could grace me with your presence is my, Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's, honor!"

He took a deep breath and steadily raised the cup of wine in front of him that had long been filled—

The amber wine swayed gently in the cup, rippling with fragmented golden light, and the cold dew condensed on the rim slid down the cup wall, wetting his fingertips.

The chill seeped into his skin, making him a bit more sober.

He raised his cup and turned to the whole room. His voice added a deliberate warmth, but beneath that warmth, there hid a trace of an imperceptible tremble:

"Today, the hall is full of distinguished guests, and all the worthies have arrived; it is truly a rare and grand occasion! The kitchen's delicacies are already on the way, the wine in our cups is mellow, and it is the right time to take advantage of this fine moment—this first cup of wine,"

He suddenly turned his gaze to the main seat, his tone abruptly intensifying, every word like a nail, ruthlessly chiseling into everyone's ears:

"Let us all raise our cups together to welcome the return of the Eldest Imperial Prince of our Great Wu, and host a welcoming banquet for him!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of silk and bamboo instruments suddenly rose from the corridor.

The sound of the zither tinkled, and the flute melody was graceful, like a clear spring flowing into the hall, diluting the tense atmosphere from just moments ago.

Yet beneath that melody, there always seemed to be a strand of indescribable, faint chill lingering and refusing to dissipate.

At the same time, maids in plain clothing carried gold-traced trays and filed in one after another.

Heat curled up, and the fragrance rushed toward them. Amber-colored abalone and fin soup rippled lightly in jade bowls, jujube paste and yam cakes were molded into birds ready to spread their wings, and the ice-cracked celadon plates reflected the candlelight. Delicacies were lined up on the tables, and the rich aroma instantly swept through the hall, making people's stomachs rumble and their minds waver slightly.

This fragrance was too strong, too warm, almost ready to smoke the taut string soft and melt it away.

The atmosphere in the hall, under Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's desperate efforts to set the mood, finally became "lively."

The sound of silk and bamboo, laughter, and the light clinking of cups wove together; the air was filled with the fragrance of wine and food, warm and intoxicating, as if it were truly a grand banquet where host and guests were all enjoying themselves.

But those princes who came with Third Prince Wu Huang could not help but cast their gazes, passing over the liveliness before them, all at once toward the main seat—

That seated figure was like a magnet, like an abyss, absorbing all the flickering, probing gazes.

Most of them were seeing Xuanyuan Zhanxian up close for the first time.

This Eldest Imperial Brother, who had disappeared for over a decade, was rumored to have exceptional talent, and had been deeply entrusted with high hopes by the Emperor—he was right before their eyes now.

Surprise, curiosity, scrutiny, estimation... various emotions rolled and mixed in their eyes, like an overturned palette, making it impossible to distinguish the original colors.

In the crowd, the reaction of the Nineteenth Prince, Wu Zongze, was the most straightforward.

He was only thirteen or fourteen years old, his face still bearing childishness, and his treasure-blue prince's casual attire made his frame appear somewhat thin.

At this moment, his mouth was slightly open, his pair of eyes, clear as springs, were wide open, and his gaze fell on Xuanyuan Zhanxian without any concealment.

There was no concealment in that look, only curiosity that was pure to the extreme, and unbelievable surprise.

It was like a child suddenly catching a glimpse of a legendary figure, with their whole heart filled with "So this is what he looks like."

He subconsciously reached out and gently tugged at the sleeve of the Sixteenth Prince beside him, his voice kept low, yet unable to hide the brightness and straightforwardness unique to a youth:

"Sixteenth Brother... is he, is he that Eldest Imperial Brother of ours who disappeared for many years?"

He blinked, his gaze meticulously tracing the eyebrows and expression of the person in the main seat, muttering softly:

"Look at his eyebrows and eyes... they look so much like the Emperor's. And the way he sits, so... so dignified."

After he finished saying the word "dignified," he shook his head slightly.

No, it was not just dignified.

This was a kind of stillness that had accumulated over time and mountains and rivers, a kind of oppression that made one afraid to breathe easily, even while sitting perfectly still. It was like a solitary peak standing in a sea of clouds; one could see its majesty, but could not measure its depth.