125: Chapter 125 A Shocking Turn of Events at the Banquet

Third Prince Wu Huang saw this and hurriedly tried to smooth things over, plastering a guileless smile on his face. However, that smile only reached the surface; the probing look in his eyes churned like an undercurrent as he locked his gaze onto Xuanyuan Zhanxian's features, refusing to let even the slightest flicker of expression escape him.

"Eldest Brother, there's no need to overthink it; we are just curious. After all, when you were born, auspicious signs descended from the heavens, and golden light circled the palace for three days without fading. You were always a one-in-a-million talent for Cultivate. Now, so many years later, you must have long since achieved a Breakthrough to the Golden Core..."

He paused deliberately, drawing out the end of his sentence, slow and long, like a taut string suspended in mid-air. His gaze was fixed like a nail on Xuanyuan Zhanxian's face, his tone carrying a hint of baiting, "Reached an even higher Realm, haven't you?"

These words sounded like flattery, but in reality, they hid a treacherous trap—if Xuanyuan Zhanxian admitted to having profound cultivation, it would confirm suspicions that he had been "hiding his strength all these years," inevitably inviting wariness from the Imperial Ancestral Temple and perhaps even branding him with the label of "harboring ulterior motives."

Yet, if he claimed his cultivation was mediocre, he would be mocked by the guests throughout the hall. The deterrent power he had worked so hard to establish would vanish, making it difficult for him to stand firm in the Imperial Capital henceforth.

The entire hall fell into a deathly silence once more. Even the dancers slowed their steps, the arcs of their silk sleeves betraying their hesitation.

Everyone's gaze was locked firmly onto Xuanyuan Zhanxian as if drawn by a magnet—some curious, some probing, some worried, and others gloating, waiting to see a farce.

Everyone was waiting for his answer, waiting to see which way the winds of this palace banquet would blow.

Xuanyuan Zhanxian tapped his fingertips lightly against the table. His well-defined fingers landed on the gold-traced sandalwood, emitting a soft "tap, tap" sound—the noise was not loud, yet it struck like a small hammer against everyone's taut heartstrings, making the already stagnant air in the hall grow even heavier.

He let his gaze rest on Third Prince Wu Huang's face for a moment, then suddenly let out a low laugh.

The laughter carried a hint of nonchalance, like a breeze passing through a hall. It seemed to dispel the iron-like stagnation of the banquet, but in reality, it made everyone's heart tighten inexplicably—everyone could smell that beneath this calm, even more turbulent waves were hidden.

"An even higher Realm?"

He rose slowly, his figure as straight and tall as a lone pine on a mountain peak. His black brocade robe unfurled with his movement, and the gold Dragon patterns secretly embroidered on the hem shimmered in the gilded lamplight, sometimes hidden in shadows, sometimes revealing glimmers of fine gold, as if a True Dragon were lying dormant within, waiting for a command to break free.

"Third Brother, what do you consider to be 'high'?"

Third Prince Wu Huang was taken aback by this question and blurted out subconsciously: "Naturally, it means... the higher the Realm, the stronger the strength, and the ability to suppress others..."

Before he could finish, he realized his words were too blunt, even bordering on shallow. But the water had already been spilled; he had no choice but to bite the bullet and lower his eyes, his fingertips gripping his hem tightly, not even daring to meet Xuanyuan Zhanxian's gaze.

"Oh?"

Xuanyuan Zhanxian's tone rose slightly, carrying a hint of amusement as he walked down from the main seat with light, unhurried steps.

Every step he took seemed to land on an invisible rhythmic node—the originally low and gentle music of the strings and flutes gradually ceased with his footsteps. The musicians' fingers froze on the strings and flute holes; they even forgot to breathe.

The dancers' spinning silk sleeves slowly drooped, and their figures froze in place involuntarily.

In the vast banquet hall, only Xuanyuan Zhanxian's clear, cold voice echoed among the rafters:

"Since Third Brother is so eager to know the strength of your Imperial Brother, why don't you experience it yourself? How about that?"

Third Prince Wu Huang's face changed abruptly, as if he had been doused with ice water from head to toe. A chill crept up his spine and bored straight into his heart.

He subconsciously took a half-step back, his brocade robe sweeping against the leg of the stool, emitting a "creak" that sounded exceptionally jarring in the silence.

He forced a smile, his voice trembling almost imperceptibly:

"Imperial Brother is joking! My meager cultivation has not even touched the threshold of Cultivate; how would I dare to cross hands with you..."

"If you know your cultivation is low, then don't come out here and make a fool of yourself."

The cold words abruptly interrupted Third Prince Wu Huang's defense, like an ice-tempered dagger, precisely piercing his sore spot.

The moment the words fell, the entire banquet hall fell into a deathly silence. Even the breathing of the crowd vanished; one could hear a pin drop. Only the "crackling" of the burning candle flames remained, making the scene feel even more oppressive.

"Xuanyuan Zhanxian, you..."

Third Prince Wu Huang's face instantly flushed to the color of a pig's liver, then quickly turned livid. His fingers, gripping the wine cup, turned white from the force, his knuckles cracking, as if he would crush the jade cup the next second. He glared furiously at Xuanyuan Zhanxian, and before he could finish his words—

"Slap!"

A crisp sound of a slap resounded through the hall, exploding in the silence and making everyone's eardrums ache.

Third Prince Wu Huang was struck so hard he staggered back two steps. His left cheek swelled red at a visible speed, and five clear finger marks were branded into his skin like a seal. A drop of striking blood even seeped from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin onto his collar, staining his light-colored brocade robe red.

He clutched his face, glaring at Xuanyuan Zhanxian in disbelief, his eyes filled with shock, rage, and humiliation. It was as if he could not believe that someone would actually dare to lay a hand on him, a prince, in full view of everyone.

"You... you dare hit me?!" His voice was hoarse, carrying a sob, but it was mostly the rage of being offended. His chest heaved violently, and the spiritual energy around his body began to churn restlessly.

Xuanyuan Zhanxian, however, did not care at all. He unhurriedly took out a silk handkerchief embroidered with cloud patterns from his sleeve and gently wiped his right hand that had just struck the blow. His movements were as elegant as if he were brushing off dust, as if he had just touched something filthy.

After wiping it clean, he casually threw the handkerchief onto the ground—the arc of the falling handkerchief carried a hint of contempt, as if discarding a piece of useless trash.

His gaze, cold as midwinter ice, landed straight on Third Prince Wu Huang:

"This slap is to teach you what it means to respect the elder and the superior."

He took a step forward, his tall shadow completely enveloping Third Prince Wu Huang, like a mountain pressing down from above.

Looking down at Third Prince Wu Huang from his commanding height, his tone was full of unshakable majesty:

"In front of this Highness, when is it your turn to shout and address me by name? Let alone that you are merely a prince born of a concubine, even a legitimate son born of the Empress would have to respectfully address me as 'Imperial Brother' upon seeing me!"

These words exploded in the hall like a thunderclap. Even Second Prince Wu Yuanchen, who had been feigning composure, changed his expression, his hand holding the wine cup trembling slightly.

Xuanyuan Zhanxian was not just disciplining Third Prince Wu Huang; he was blatantly reminding everyone—he was the only legitimate eldest son of the royal family, and status and hierarchy were distinct; no one could overstep their bounds!

Third Prince Wu Huang was trembling with rage, his spiritual energy surging uncontrollably. His robes billowed without wind, snapping loudly; he was clearly on the verge of losing control.

But just at this moment—

Two black figures arrived suddenly like ghosts, their speed so fast that no one could see their movements. With just a blur before their eyes, the two had already stood firm.

Commander Yingsha, with his burly frame, stood like an iron tower beside Third Prince Wu Huang. With one hand, he precisely gripped Third Prince Wu Huang's right wrist as he was channeling his energy. A bone-chilling, cold spiritual energy instantly traveled along his Meridians, sealing his spiritual energy output like a cold chain.

Third Prince Wu Huang felt his whole body go numb. His previously restless spiritual energy suddenly went silent; he didn't even have the strength to lift his hand. His wrist was gripped so tightly it hurt, yet he could not break free in the slightest.

Shadow Guard Ying Yue, with her slender figure, silently blocked in front of Xuanyuan Zhanxian. A short blade from her sleeve was already in her hand, who knew when she had drawn it. The blade shimmered with a cold, ghostly blue in the candlelight; it was clearly coated in deadly poison.

Her gaze swept vigilantly around, like a leopard ready to strike at any moment, emitting a dangerous aura.

"Third Prince, please conduct yourself with dignity."

Commander Yingsha's voice was low and iron-like, without a trace of warmth. Each word was like an ice-tempered hammer, striking heavily upon Third Prince Wu Huang's heart.

Third Prince Wu Huang was shocked and enraged, attempting to break free from Commander Yingsha's restraint, but no matter how hard he tried, the other's hand remained as immovable as an iron clamp.

Only then did he realize with shock that Xuanyuan Zhanxian's guards actually dared to lay a hand on him, and he was instantly furious:

"Damned slave, how dare you lay a hand on this Prince?!"

He gritted his teeth, his gaze sweeping across the hall, trying to find help—but he discovered that everyone was keeping their heads down, either staring at the tips of their shoes or pretending to adjust their robes. Not a single person dared to meet his gaze, let alone step forward to rescue him.

Immediately, his gaze became vicious, like a venomous snake's tongue, and he sternly ordered the Void Realm:

"What are you three still standing there for? Kill them for me!"

As soon as the words fell, three terrifying auras instantly rushed in from outside the hall, like three towering mountains crashing down. The air in the entire Lanyue Tower seemed to solidify.

The beams emitted "creaking" sounds as if they might collapse at any moment, and dust fell from the rafters. The guests' faces turned pale; they all wanted to stand up and flee, but they were pinned in place by the pressure. Their chests felt as if they were being crushed by giant stones; even breathing became difficult, and speaking was a luxury.

Xuanyuan Zhanxian saw this but only let out a cold laugh—the sound was not loud, but it pierced through the heavy pressure and clearly reached everyone's ears, carrying a hint of disdain:

"If you dare to strike again, this Highness does not mind crippling you."

The moment the words fell, the dozen or so Shadow Guards who had been standing still behind him all moved in unison—