"Is that all, Donghuang Yu?" Ye Fan's voice echoed across the water. "Just hot air?" His own steps flowed like mist, phantoms trailing him as they danced across the sparse wooden stakes.
Donghuang Yu, at Qi Refining Stage Nine, resisted the lake's gravity vortex with ease, moving effortlessly. In contrast, Ye Fan's Qi Refining Stage Four cultivation strained visibly under the suction.
Onlookers murmured and pointed at the two figures skimming the Martial Pause Lake's surface.
Beigong Xue widened her captivating eyes, whispering playfully to her brother, "Who's winning?"
"Just warming up," Beigong Qingtian replied dismissively. "But it should end now."
As he spoke, Donghuang Yu's feet blurred. His rhythm shifted—forward, backward, a sudden lunge. In an instant, he surged ahead, leaving Ye Fan behind. Cheers erupted.
"Tri-Spirit Phantom Steps!" Ding Chunqiu praised, nodding. "Only profound movement mastery allows that rhythm-shift. Simple to see, devastating to counter. Brother Donghuang's skill is peerle—" His voice choked. "...How?!"
Gasps followed. Ye Fan moved like clouds gathering over peaks. He landed lightly on a drifting lotus pad... only for it to float away. Yet, impossibly, his body traced the exact path backwards, returning to his starting point.
His motion was ethereal, effortless—a silent mockery of Beigong Qingtian's earlier claim: "Among the young... impossible."
Donghuang Yu's face paled. He anticipated my rhythm-shift! The disruption sent a tremor through his flawless steps. Forced off his stake, he flipped, aiming his right foot at another pad—
Swoosh.
Another pad slid beneath his target, leaving only water. Trapped mid-air, momentum lost, his foot plunged downward.
Splash.
Water soaked his boot. He froze, humiliation painting his face crimson and white.
Silence. Victory came swiftly... but to the wrong man.
Beigong Qingtian stared, stunned. Donghuang Yu—peerless in movement arts among his generation—beaten by a Stage Four nobody?
Beigong Xue pouted adorably, eyes flashing annoyance. These princes boast like gods yet lose to him? Infuriating!
Ye Fan skimmed the water, landing ashore. His icy gaze pinned the stupefied Donghuang Yu. "Honor the wager. The token. Now."
Donghuang Yu flinched, face ghostly white. He'd wagered the Heaven's Mansion Pardon Token only because victory seemed guaranteed. Losing? Unthinkable.
The token was a clan treasure, loaned for the spring admissions as insurance. If unused, it must be returned. Losing it? His status would crumble.
No. I cannot lose it!
"Honor the wager?" Donghuang Yu sneered, landing beside him. "Fine. Renounce the princess's tutorship."
Silence. Deafening.
Even Ye Fan blinked. Shameless. Beyond shameless.
"Can't handle losing?" Ye Fan's voice hardened.
"Handle losing?" Donghuang Yu laughed bitterly. "You're the sore loser! Recall the terms: Touch water, lose. My foot?" He raised his boot. "Encased in Qi. Legally dry. Yours?" He pointed. "Look at your sole."
A single drop clung to Ye Fan's shoe.
"So, you lost!" Donghuang Yu declared.
Ye Fan's laugh was cold fury. He turned to the Third Prince. "Arbiter? Your ruling."
Beigong Qingtian shifted uncomfortably. Disgust twisted his gut. One of the Five Princes... resorting to this?
Beigong Xue stared at Donghuang Yu with wide, incredulous eyes. The courteous gentleman... revealed as this?
"Brother Donghuang..." Beigong Qingtian began stiffly. "Honoring a bet is—"
"I see it now!" Donghuang Yu cut him off, eyes wild. "This banquet wasn't for Ye Fan! It was a trap for me! Everyone knew I had the token!"
He pointed a trembling finger. "This was your scheme!" Before anyone could react, he surged into the air—vanishing into the night.
Ye Fan watched him go, unmoving. The token was merely a means to funds. Causing chaos at the Third Prince's feast? Unwise.
For Uncle Han's sake. He picked up his wine cup.
Beigong Qingtian's face darkened further. Seeing Ye Fan drink calmly, not pressing the issue, a flicker of respect stirred. He clasped his hands. "Brother Ye... your forbearance shames me."
"Forbearance?" Qian Hong's mocking voice sliced through the tension. "Or simply unable to catch him? Where's the nobility in that?"
Murmurs rippled. The other princes caught his meaning: Ye Fan let Donghuang Yu flee to avoid facing them.
"Donghuang Yu fled defeat," Qian Hong continued smoothly. "Beneath contempt. But surely you, Prince Ye, won't use his cowardice as your excuse to decline further challenges?"
Ye Fan met his gaze with icy amusement. "Flee from you? Not worthy. I hear the Qians own the capital's largest gold vaults. Rich. Let's wager... ten million gold taels."
"Ten million?!" Qian Hong gasped, his face paling.
"Afraid?"
"Hah! Intimidate me? Ten million it is!" Qian Hong forced bravado. "But stakes that high... your wager seems... cheap."
"You mean," Ye Fan's eyes narrowed dangerously, "the princess's tutorship... is worth less than ten million?"
Beigong Xue's cheeks puffed out instantly. Her huge eyes fixed on Qian Hong with lethal sweetness.
Qian Hong swallowed hard. "Of—of course not! Deal!"
"Good. My challenge:" Qian Hong drew himself up, confidence returning. "We duel in Knowledge. Lore of the continent!"
A collective sigh of relief washed over the princes. Qian Hong was a legend among scholars, young and old. His collection of rare texts was unrivaled. Ye Fan? A mere branch-family disciple. What could he possibly know?
This victory was assured.