The crowd expected Ye Fan to refuse. Instead, he agreed instantly—on one condition: Qian Hong must first place the ten million gold tael pledge with Beigong Qingtian.
"You doubt my honor?" Qian Hong's voice dripped fury. "Think I'd stoop like Donghuang Yu?"
Ye Fan rose, a cold smile playing on his lips. "I never said you were trash like Donghuang Yu."
He scanned the assembled nobles, his gaze sharp as a blade. "I meant every challenger here—is trash like him."
Gasps. Outraged murmurs erupted. Such arrogance!
To Ye Fan, these men sought only to humiliate him. If they wished to trample him—courtesy was dead.
Beigong Xue choked back a laugh, her radiant smile drawing dazed stares. Noticing their attention, she flushed, then shot Ye Fan a glare. "Vile scoundrel!"
Ye Fan blinked. What did I do now?
"Arrogance!" Qian Hong snapped. "Pray it's backed by skill!" He scribbled a bank draft, handed it to Beigong Qingtian, then flicked open his folding fan. "Begin!"
They faced each other center-stage: the warrior in simple battle-robes (stitched by Su Xi, sturdy yet plain) and the polished noble.
"Rules of Knowledge:" Qian Hong announced. "I pose a question. Answer flawlessly—you pass. Then you question me. If I answer—I pass. We continue… until one fails."
He fanned himself leisurely. "I'll start simply."
"All know the Eastern Spirit Realm: ruled by the Sword Sect, guarded by Four Great Martial Mansions. Beneath them—Six Dynasties." His eyes gleamed. "Which dynasty… holds a Heaven-Earth Spirit Eye?"
Silence.
Confusion rippled. Everyone knows Chu has the richest spiritual energy! Its imperial city even has a possible Spirit Eye! Is Qian Hong… giving away ten million?
"Third Brother," Beigong Xue whispered, tugging Beigong Qingtian's sleeve. "Isn't ours…?"
"Ours is a Heaven-Earth Prime Spirit Eye—not the same." Beigong Qingtian murmured back. "Han Dynasty ranks second in energy density, then Zhou, Jin… But a true Spirit Eye? Unknown."
"You… don't know?" Beigong Xue stared. Her brother played the rake—but secretly devoured ancient texts. If HE doesn't know…
"No." Beigong Qingtian admitted.
Beigong Xue clenched her fists, a triumphant spark in her eyes as she watched Ye Fan.
Qian Hong radiated confidence. This secret lay buried in a crumbling, obscure manuscript. Not even royal scholars know it!
"Tang Dynasty."
Ye Fan's voice cut the stillness.
A memory flashed—sharp as glass:
A woman's voice, trembling: "This Spirit Eye… is dead. As Tang's princess… reviving it demanded this. Forgive me."
Ye Fan's hand clutching the dagger buried in his dantian: "Ten years… Ten years of lies, Tang Ling? Just for today?"
Her tears: "Only the blood-essence of a Great Ascension cultivator… could awaken it."
His shattered laugh: "Tang Ling… Your heart is ice."
Then—thunder. Heavenly Tribulation. Ascension… not vengeance.
Back in the banquet hall—laughter exploded.
"Tang? Hah! Its spiritual energy's the thinnest!"
"Even a blind guess should sound plausible!"
"He admits defeat! Knows he's unworthy to teach the princess!"
"Finally—self-awareness!"
Ding Chunqiu's voice soured: "Congratulations, Brother Qian!"
But Qian Hong's face had bleached white. His fan stilled. "How… How could you know it's Tang?"
Guessing? Impossible. Only a fool would guess Tang.
"None of the Six Dynasties possess a functional Heaven-Earth Spirit Eye." Ye Fan continued calmly. "Tang's is withered. Ancient texts say… during the Era of Demonic Spirits, it anchored a World-Sealing Grand Formation."
Dead silence.
Eyes widened. World-Sealing Formation? Demonic Spirits? Legends—unverified, fragmented.
Yet he spoke as if reciting history.
Beigong Qingtian nodded slowly, impressed. Such knowledge… not gossip. Found only in forgotten, dust-choked archives. A true scholar's pursuit.
Beigong Xue bit her lip. How does this villain know so much? First movement arts… now this? No—just luck! A blind squirrel finding a nut!
Many shared her thought. All eyes fixed on Ye Fan. True knowledge? His question will tell.
Ye Fan paused, then dropped his challenge like a stone:
"Enough obscure tales. Let's discuss… herbal pharmacology."
His gaze speared Ding Chunqiu. "You. Bring your ten million. Join him." He nodded at Qian Hong. "Save time."
Ding Chunqiu's face darkened. Qian Hong snorted. Arrogant! He thinks he's already won?
But Ye Fan wasn't finished. He pointed across the hall.
"And you—Shangguan Feidu. Step up."
"This is your only chance. I won't waste time playing games."
Shock rippled.
"Well!" Ding Chunqiu spat. "Since the Ink Prince begs for humiliation… we oblige!"
Both men produced pledges. Ten million each. They strode to the center, flanking Qian Hong.
"Ding Chunqiu—" Ye Fan's voice rang clear. "You're an alchemist. I'll describe a herb's properties. Explain its pharmacological rationale. If you and Qian Hong succeed… I lose."
He turned to Shangguan Feidu, his hand resting on his sword hilt. "You—I challenge to combat. No cultivation restrictions."
The hall froze.
Ye Fan's presence was commanding—but that was his title. His aura? Murky, unfathomable… yet chaotic around his dantian.
Everyone knew: his cultivation was shattered! Whatever path he walked now—how strong could he be?
Where did he find the courage… to challenge Shangguan Feidu?