123: Chapter 123 Sharpness

The Thirteenth Prince, Wu Hongyi, felt his sleeve tugged by Wu Zongze and his brows furrowed sharply, as if a blade had carved a deep mark into his forehead.

With undeniable force in his fingertips, he gently swatted away the small hand that was still waving about. His voice was pressed extremely low, yet it felt like ice-tempered needles piercing the eardrum one by one: "Zongze, watch your tongue. Is the name of the Eldest Imperial Brother something you can just casually blurt out?"

Although his words were stern, his own gaze, cast toward Xuanyuan Zhanxian, was like being tightly pulled by invisible threads, unable to look away no matter what.

The shock deep within his eyes was like a pebble thrown into a deep pool—even though he tried desperately to suppress it, the surface of the pool still uncontrollably rippled with alarming waves.

Memories of this Eldest Imperial Brother had long since blurred into a faint mist over the years.

Over these years, the image they had pieced together in private based on fragmented rumors was either that of a down-and-out stray dog or an aloof, unapproachable mountain hermit.

Yet, the person before them was completely different from all their imaginings.

This was a steadiness settled by time and the elements.

It was a profoundness that made one afraid to pry easily, even if he sat perfectly still.

He was like an ancient well hidden beneath the cliffs of a deep mountain, its mouth covered in moss, with nothing but pitch-black darkness when looking down, its depth unknown, its sound unheard.

Wu Zongze shrank his neck after being scolded, his chubby fingers subconsciously twisting the hem of his royal blue robes, the fabric rumpled into chaotic creases.

Yet, the doubt in his heart was like bamboo shoots after the rain, unable to be suppressed as it broke through the soil and shot outward.

He leaned into Wu Hongyi's ear, his voice as thin as a mosquito's hum, yet still wrapped in irrepressible curiosity: "But... he really is nothing like I imagined... It feels, it feels like compared to Second Brother, Third Brother, and the others..."

Before he could finish, his words were abruptly cut off by a cold glance from Wu Hongyi.

Yet, the unfinished words, like a wisp of smoke, silently drifted into the ears of the surrounding princes and burrowed into their hearts.

In their subconscious—perhaps also in the subconscious of many young princes present—this Eldest Imperial Brother, who had been away from the group for many years and was nearly forgotten, should have carried an awkwardness incompatible with the imperial court, perhaps even a sense of embarrassment, like a stranger who had stumbled into a lavish banquet.

Yet, they never expected that it would be like this—merely by his posture, he could suppress half the hall.

A profoundness that made one's heart tighten and breath hitch just by looking at him directly.

This small interlude was like a small stone swept up by the wind, gently striking a seemingly calm lake surface.

On the surface, it was nothing more than a child's slip of the tongue and a few warnings from an elder brother.

Yet, in the hearts of some princes, it had already caused ripples that were fine and long-lasting.

The way they looked at Xuanyuan Zhanxian quietly changed.

The pure curiosity from before was gradually mixed with cautious scrutiny, imperceptible wariness, and a trace of subconscious re-evaluation.

It was as if only at this moment did they truly realize: this "returned Eldest Imperial Brother" might not be a shadow that could be ignored at will, and certainly not a soft persimmon that could be squeezed by anyone.

And at this moment, the focus of everyone in Lanyue Tower was like being firmly attracted by an invisible magnet, locked tightly onto Xuanyuan Zhanxian's fingertips—everyone was waiting.

Waiting for his attitude toward that cup of "welcome" wine.

This cup of wine became the silent wager of the entire hall, hanging over everyone's hearts.

The arm with which Second Prince Wu Yuanchen held his wine cup had, at some point, become stiff and sore.

The soreness crept up his arm, eroding his shoulder blade, his entire arm feeling as heavy as if it were filled with lead.

The smile remained on his face, but it was like a lake frozen in deep winter; the curve of his mouth was unnaturally stiff, and even the fine lines at the corners of his eyes were pulled taut.

The chill from the white jade cup in his palm seeped into his skin, drilling into his heart along his Bloodline.

Yet, he dared not even change his posture slightly, having to maintain the gesture of holding up the cup, enduring it second by second under the burning gaze of the crowd.

Every breath felt like a long hour.

Third Prince Wu Huang had also long since picked up his wine cup.

The rim of the cup gently pressed against his lower lip, the smile on his face still gentle, like spring sun shining on snow.

Yet, the peripheral vision in his eyes was like a bowstring pulled to its limit, staring fixedly at every subtle movement of Xuanyuan Zhanxian—

From the tremor of his eyelashes when he lowered his eyes, to the unconscious tapping of his fingertips, to the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest when breathing... he refused to miss a single detail.

It was as if he wanted to glimpse the signs of an impending storm from these subtleties.

In the corner, Li Chengsi remained immersed at the junction of light and shadow, like an Incomplete Manual with uneven ink.

His fingertips lightly rested on the rim of the cup, his pads rubbing the cold jade surface extremely slowly and lightly, following the lingering rhythm of the silk and bamboo music.

The movement was so light it was almost invisible, as if it were just the faint glow emanating from the jade itself.

He was like a bystander completely removed from the situation, his eyes calm without a ripple.

Yet, he was also like the most patient hunter, holding his breath, quietly waiting for the direction the storm would rise, waiting for that decisive moment.

The silk and bamboo music in the hall had weakened at some unknown time.

It was as if its throat had been strangled by an invisible hand, leaving only intermittent, thread-thin remnants of sound.

Even the footsteps of the servers were extremely light, like feathers falling, afraid of disturbing this suffocating tranquility.

The seemingly rowdy banquet was actually shrouded in a layer of thick, nearly solidified silence.

Everyone's breathing subconsciously lightened, their gazes condensing on the main seat like substance, the air so heavy it felt as if it could be wrung out like water.

Just at this moment of stagnation, where it felt like one's heart might stop—Xuanyuan Zhanxian finally moved.

He did not immediately raise the cup.

Instead, he slowly lifted his eyelids.

Those eyes were like a deep pool frozen for a thousand years, with no ripples on the surface, but underneath surged an undercurrent capable of swallowing all light.

Wherever his gaze landed, it seemed to pierce through the skin, reaching straight to the most hidden calculations and anxieties in everyone's hearts.

His gaze swept over Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's pale, tense face, glided over the darkness hidden deep in Third Prince Wu Huang's eyes, and then lightly swept over all the eyes present, whether bright or dim, flickering with various emotions.

That curiosity, awe, probing, wariness, and even hostility... in his eyes, they seemed to have become insignificant dust, easily brushed away with a wave of his sleeve.

Finally, his gaze fell back onto the wine cup in Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's hand, which was slightly trembling from being held for so long.

The corners of his mouth seemed to hook up very faintly.

The curve was so shallow it felt like an illusion, so fast it made one suspect it was just the flicker of candlelight.

Yet, it carried a trace of ice-tempered, indescribable mockery.

The next second, he finally reached out.

His slender fingers, distinct and bony, shone with the luster of cold jade under the candlelight.

His fingertips carried a cool temperature, like the first drop of melting water during the thaw of early spring, gently grasping the white jade wine cup before him.

The movement was unhurried.

There was no deliberate dawdling, nor any trace of eagerness.

It was composed... as if completing a ritual that had been rehearsed a thousand times.

"Second Brother, you are thoughtful."

His voice remained calm, not deliberately raised, nor was the tone emphasized.

Yet it seemed to carry a magic that pierced through all the noise, clearly sweeping through every corner of Lanyue Tower, suppressing the remaining silk and bamboo music, drowning out all subtle breathing, drilling into everyone's ears, and reaching straight into their hearts.

"This cup of wine—"

He slightly raised his wrist, the wine cup tracing a minimalist arc in the air, brushing virtually against the rim of Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's cup.

"Clink."

A soft sound.

Crisp, cold, like two ice crystals colliding in the extreme cold.

In this deathly silent hall, it was like a thunderclap, ruthlessly striking the tip of everyone's heart.

"I, Xuanyuan Zhanxian, offer this toast to you all."

Just eight words.

The voice was not loud, yet like an invisible ripple, with him as the center, it instantly washed over the entire Lanyue Tower.

The noise and whispers that had been vaguely floating just moments ago were instantly suppressed without a trace.

Only these eight words remained, echoing, colliding, and lingering under the gold-painted dome, refusing to dissipate for a long time.

After a brief, heart-palpitating silence—came a near-reflexive, uniform response.

"Eldest Prince, you are too kind!"

"We dare not accept; it is we who should toast Your Highness, the Eldest Prince!"

"A toast to Your Highness—!"

Everyone present, regardless of whether they were princes with different agendas, Prodigies with complex backgrounds, or attendant ministers accustomed to reading the situation, all rose to their feet one after another.

Their movements were as uniform as if pulled by the same thread, without a hint of hesitation.

They held their wine cups high, the rims all facing the main seat.

Voices rose and fell, carrying varying degrees of respect, shock, caution, and even a trace of imperceptible trembling, merging into a clamorous tide.

Yet beneath this clamor, a strange, tense order was maintained—no one dared to speak loudly, no one dared to whisper casually.

Even the act of raising their cups was done with caution, as if the slightest carelessness would anger that existence who sat as steady as a mountain.

What they were toasting seemed to be the amber-colored fine wine in their cups.

In reality, it was the weight of the existence behind the name "Xuanyuan Zhanxian"—a weight they had not yet fully seen but had already truly felt to be as heavy as a thousand jun.

That power, which could easily control the breathing of the entire hall just by sitting still.

Second Prince Wu Yuanchen and Third Prince Wu Huang were mixed in the crowd, also raising their cups and speaking along with the others.

Their voices were drowned out in the chorus of respectful echoes.

But the smiles on their faces could no longer sustain their initial composure—the curve of Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's mouth finally relaxed, but that relaxation revealed an obvious sense of exhaustion, like someone who had just survived a disaster, yet the depths of his eyes still hid a few traces of anxiety, as if worrying about a shoe that had yet to drop.

Third Prince Wu Huang's smile remained gentle, but a complex, indiscernible undercurrent flashed through his eyes.

Surprise, wariness, scrutiny, and a trace of cold unwillingness that was forcibly suppressed.

His fingers gripping the wine cup quietly tightened.

His knuckles turned white.