124: Chapter 124 The Storm at the Banquet

Gilded bronze lamps hung from the palace beams, casting warm light like scattered gold that splashed down, making the delicacies on the table shimmer with brilliant colors.

Amber wine rippled in jade cups, and the gold-leaf-wrapped spiritual pastries emitted a lustrous sheen. Yet, this brilliant light in the hall could not illuminate the fleeting heaviness and panic in the eyes of some.

They were supposed to be the ones holding the chess pieces at this palace banquet—

Second Prince Wu Yuanchen sat beside the main seat, his smile as warm as the spring sun, his fingertips lightly tapping as he steered the conversation.

Third Prince Wu Huang followed at his side, occasionally tossing out a piece of court gossip, drawing low laughter from the room; his methods for livening up the atmosphere were smooth and practiced.

Yet at this moment, the radiance around them seemed to be quietly sucked away by something invisible, and even the smiles on their lips grew stiff, fading like shadows beside a candle flame next to Xuanyuan Zhanxian.

And Xuanyuan Zhanxian, wearing only a black brocade robe, stood as straight as a solitary pine. The golden Dragon pattern embroidered on the hem of his robe flickered in the light, as if ready to break free from the fabric at any moment.

He uttered not a single boast, nor did he put on any airs; simply by the rise and fall of that cup of wine—his hand raised with composure, his drink finished with crisp efficiency—he had effortlessly grasped the soul of this banquet in his own palm.

Reversing the role of host and guest had been as easy as brushing away a speck of dust.

The guests in the hall all unconsciously held their breath, their hands clenching in their sleeves, and even their gazes became cautious.

"Tsk, you scholarly types are really troublesome!"

Tuoba Ye scratched the back of his head with his rough, calloused palm, the thick calluses on his knuckles making his hair rustle.

He had always loathed such hypocritical occasions, but at this moment, he stood up as well, turning the copper wine cup in his palm in a full circle, not caring at all that the wine spilled over the rim.

"If you're going to toast, just do it properly! Why make such a fuss? Aren't you tired?"

The muttering was full of irritation. Before the words had even faded, he had tilted his head back and downed the strong liquor in one gulp.

The wine flowed down his well-defined jaw, soaking his collar, but he didn't care. The loud sound of his swallowing actually drowned out the lingering silk and bamboo music in the hall, revealing a raw, living sense of satisfaction.

On the other side, Princess Xia Zhiqing was a different sight.

Her moon-white skirt flowed down like water as she stood, the hem brushing across the floor like drifting clouds and fleeting shadows.

Her slender fingers pinched the thin stem of the celadon cup, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the icy porcelain surface. She was as elegant as a white lotus just blooming in the garden, and even the curve of her lowered eyes was perfectly gentle.

It was just that the gaze she cast toward the main seat was too complex to unravel—her brows were slightly furrowed, and a trace of uncontrollable shock was hidden in the depths of her eyes.

This Senior Brother Xuanyuan... he could actually hold the hearts of everyone in the hall in his palm with just a single word or action.

That calm, abyss-like bearing, that overwhelming presence that made it hard for people to breathe, far exceeded all her expectations.

Her fingertips tightened unconsciously, the rim of the cup pressing against her skin until it turned slightly white.

In the corner, Li Chengsi also slowly stood up.

His movements were unhurried, his brocade boots stepping on the thick carpet without a sound; the angle at which he raised his cup was as precise as if measured with a ruler, carrying a deliberately cultivated composure that stood in stark contrast to the subtle haste of others.

His gaze swept over the hall, but it happened to collide for a fleeting moment with the seemingly casual glance cast by Xuanyuan Zhanxian—

With just that single touch, Li Chengsi abruptly lowered his eyes. His long eyelashes cast a curved shadow beneath his eyes as he slowly finished the wine in his cup. No one could discern the expression in his eyes, and no one knew that the knuckles in his sleeves were tapping lightly against the dark patterns of his inner lining, one by one.

Once the cup was finished, everyone sat down one after another.

But the atmosphere in the hall had already been turned upside down.

The warmth that Second Prince Wu Yuanchen had painstakingly created had been swept away by a silent cold wave, leaving not even a trace of residual heat.

Replacing it was a heavy, almost stagnant caution—

Conversations among the guests lowered, sounding like whispers; their shifting gazes became more elusive, and when they glanced toward the main seat, they all carried an imperceptible vigilance.

Even their breathing involuntarily grew lighter, for fear of disturbing something.

The silk and bamboo music continued, the zither notes turning and the flute sounds clear; the dancers' water sleeves still fluttered like butterflies, and the silver bells at their waists chimed in strings.

But who could really hear it, or see it?

Those guests who had originally applauded the song and dance now found their gazes drifting toward the main seat, their silver chopsticks remaining untouched for a long time, and the delicacies on their plates gradually losing their heat, yet no one paid them any mind.

Only Xuanyuan Zhanxian remained sitting there calmly, as if he were not the one who had stirred up the winds and clouds in the hall just moments ago.

He even picked up his silver chopsticks again, calmly picking up a gold-leaf-wrapped spiritual pastry—the pastry was crystal clear, and the agate-like candied fruit inside was faintly visible.

He chewed slowly and deliberately, a faint curve even lingering at the corners of his mouth, as if the invisible tension and suffocating stagnation in the hall had nothing to do with him.

But it was precisely this excessive detachment that transformed into the heaviest pressure, like an invisible net quietly covering everyone's hearts.

Especially for Second Prince Wu Yuanchen and Third Prince Wu Huang.

The two sat where they were, feeling a chill crawling up their spines, shooting straight from their tailbones to the back of their necks. Even their fingertips turned slightly cold, and their palms oozed a thin layer of moisture.

Second Prince Wu Yuanchen took a deep breath—this couldn't go on!

He had to regain the initiative, at least... he had to tear open this situation that was completely controlled by Xuanyuan Zhanxian.

He swept his gaze very quickly toward Third Prince Wu Huang, who immediately returned a look of urging, with the same burning anxiety hidden in the depths of his eyes.

Second Prince Wu Yuanchen steadied himself, cleared his slightly tight throat, and piled a smile back onto his face. But that smile appeared somewhat stiff; the fine lines at the corners of his eyes were pressed with reluctance, and even the curve of his raised cheekbones revealed discomfort.

"Eldest Imperial Brother... you truly have a great capacity for liquor!"

He raised his voice first, offering a compliment, and his gaze quickly swept across the hall, attempting to stir up "resonance" from the crowd.

Then he shifted the tone, trying hard to pull the topic back to his predetermined track: "Speaking of which, Imperial Brother has been Cultivating outside for these years, far from the turmoil of the Imperial Capital. Presumably, you have... unique insights into the path of Cultivation?"

"Today it is rare for all you Fellow Daoists to gather, why not... show us a thing or two, Imperial Brother, and let us broaden our horizons?" He deliberately emphasized the word "all," and the implication was clear: If you refuse, you are dismissing the interest of everyone in the hall.

This remark not only threw the difficult problem to Xuanyuan Zhanxian but also quietly tied everyone to his own ship—he was clearly trying to use the "curiosity" of the crowd as a bargaining chip to force the other party to make a statement.

Third Prince Wu Huang immediately followed up, his voice full of deliberately squeezed-out warmth, as if afraid of missing this opportunity: "That's right, Eldest Imperial Brother! Our Great Wu was founded on martial arts. As the Eldest Imperial Prince, your cultivation must be unfathomable... You surely wouldn't be inferior to us younger brothers, right?"

This remark seemed like praise, but in reality, it was naked provocation. Specifically pointing out the identity of "Eldest Imperial Prince" was nothing more than trying to put Xuanyuan Zhanxian on the spot—since you occupy this position, you cannot fall behind in terms of cultivation.

Once these words were spoken, the gazes in the hall were like needles, once again densely pricking toward the main seat.

Even the sound of the silk and bamboo music seemed to wisely weaken, the zither notes missed a beat, and the flute sound paused along with it.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for Xuanyuan Zhanxian's reaction—

To accept, or to push back?

The air was stretched tight like a bowstring, and the sound of dust settling could be clearly heard.

Xuanyuan Zhanxian finally slowly put down his silver chopsticks.

The tips of the chopsticks touched the jade plate, making a very slight "ding" sound, but it was exceptionally distinct in the silence of the hall.

His slender fingers picked up the silk handkerchief embroidered with cloud patterns nearby, and he wiped the corners of his mouth in a leisurely manner. Every movement was unhurried, without a ripple, as if all the gazes and all the pressure around him had nothing to do with him.

And then, he raised his eyes to look at Second Prince Wu Yuanchen.

His eyes were as deep as an ancient well, bottomless, and reflecting not the slightest emotion.

"Show my cultivation?"

His voice was plain, yet every word was clear, neither loud nor low, just right to penetrate this silence and fall into everyone's ears.

His gaze slowly swept past Second Prince Wu Yuanchen and Third Prince Wu Huang, and no joy or anger could be heard in his tone, as if he were just asking casually:

"Are Second Brother and Third Brother... wanting to spar with me by saying this?"

Second Prince Wu Yuanchen's heart slammed, as if it had been severely scalded by a branding iron, and he hurriedly waved his hands.

His movements were so hurried that they brought up a gust of wind from his sleeves, and the smile on his face could barely be held, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly:

"Imperial Brother is joking! How would this younger brother... how would I dare to spar with Imperial Brother? I merely admire Imperial Brother's demeanor and wish to pay my respects!"

He hadn't forgotten the fate of Minister of War Leng Jiangchan—he had only exchanged one move with Xuanyuan Zhanxian and ended up in such a sorry state, his spiritual power nearly collapsed.

Even if he were given ten times the courage, he wouldn't dare to step down into the arena himself.