Chapter 72

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Chapter 72: Afraid He Can’t Handle It

A few days later, in a room at a post station in the border town of Zhao, an angry voice rang out.

“Two cultivators at the Foundation Establishment Stage and one at the fifth level of the Qi Refining Stage couldn’t handle someone at the third level of Qi Refining Stage? And they even got themselves killed? Useless idiots!”

The speaker was none other than an elder from the Tang family.

The two returning Tang family cultivators stood with their heads lowered, too ashamed to respond. Despite the unexpected involvement of Zhou Lanting, the mission was an unmitigated disaster.

Not only had they failed to retrieve the inheritance, but Tang Yuan, their young master, had also been killed. They knew any excuses now would only provoke Elder Tang’s wrath further.

Seeing their silence, Elder Tang’s frown deepened. “Explain the details. Now.”

The cultivators hesitated, then recounted everything: the appearance of demonic cultivators, Yi Qianmo’s astonishing power, and the final moments of Tang Yuan.

Elder Tang’s expression grew darker as he listened. “You mean to say Yi Qianmo’s body glowed with a white light?”

“Yes, Elder,” one of them replied. “It resembled the Purple Extreme Divine Skill. After that light appeared, his strength increased significantly. Tang Yuan was caught off guard and killed before he could react!”

Elder Tang’s eyes narrowed. “It seems the Yi family’s inheritance is no weaker than our Purple Extreme Divine Skill. We should have eliminated them long ago.”

After a moment of brooding silence, Elder Tang gave his orders. “This incident is not to be spoken of. As for Tang Yuan… he’s traveling in the Yan Kingdom. Do you understand?”

“Understood!”

Relieved to avoid punishment, one cultivator asked cautiously, “Elder, should we approach the Yi family to demand the inheritance?”

“No.” Elder Tang shook his head. “If the Yi family had fully inherited it, they wouldn’t have fallen so far. Even if we destroy them now, we might gain nothing.”

He sighed. “Yi Qianmo was severely injured and fell into the river. The chances of survival are slim. A pity…”

“What if he’s still alive?” one of them asked nervously.

“If he is, we’ll hear about it soon enough. The moment he resurfaces in the Yan Kingdom, I’ll deal with him myself,” Elder Tang said, his eyes glinting. “In fact, I hope he is alive. It’ll be more satisfying that way.”

Yi Qianmo woke up to find himself in a narrow room. Sitting up hastily, he discovered his wrists were shackled, though someone had treated his broken bones. He felt utterly drained, his spiritual power completely depleted.

“You’re awake!”

The door opened, and a middle-aged man in plain clothes entered, his gaze filled with concern.

“Where am I?” Yi Qianmo asked warily.

“On the master’s ship,” the man replied, setting a steaming bowl of soup on the table. “Drink this; it’ll warm you up.”

Yi Qianmo sipped cautiously, feeling the warmth spread through him. “Who is your master? And where is this ship heading?”

The man smiled faintly. “You’ll meet him soon. Consider yourself lucky. Meeting my master is a blessing.”

“A blessing?” Yi Qianmo scoffed internally. The greatest nobles of the Yan Kingdom are King Yan and the Grand Princess. I happen to know the latter personally.

The man’s face hardened at Yi Qianmo’s skeptical expression. “You’d better behave. You’re only alive because of my master’s mercy. Don’t be ungrateful.”

“Hmph.” Yi Qianmo finished the soup in one gulp. “Take me to see him, then.”

The man nodded. “Follow me.”

The ship was enormous, with a deck five or six yards wide and a hull dozens of yards long. A flag bearing the character “Ten Thousand” fluttered in the wind. Armed guards lined the deck, their stances disciplined and alert.

At the center sat a rotund man, richly dressed, sipping wine with two concubines by his side. Behind him stood an old man radiating the aura of a Foundation Establishment Stage cultivator.

Despite his plain appearance, the fat man commanded absolute deference.

“Master, I’ve brought him,” the middle-aged man said, bowing low.

The fat man glanced lazily at Yi Qianmo. “What’s your name?”

Before Yi Qianmo could answer, the man waved dismissively. “Never mind. From now on, you’ll be called Twenty-One.”

With a gesture, a guard holding Yi Qianmo’s Repel Evil Sword stepped forward.

“Why can’t this sword be unsheathed?” the fat man asked.

Yi Qianmo’s heart skipped. He could still feel Old Bai’s presence within the sword. Relieved that his spiritual partner hadn’t abandoned him, he replied, “The sword recognizes me as its master. No one else can draw it.”

“A spirit tool, then?” The fat man’s eyes gleamed with greed. “Are you a cultivator?”

Yi Qianmo shrugged. “You could say that.”

The fat man grinned. “I don’t care who you were before. From today, you’re mine. I saved your life, so you owe me. Understand?”

Yi Qianmo nodded calmly. “Understood.”

“Good,” the fat man said, signaling for the shackles to be removed. “This sword is mine now. Any objections?”

“None,” Yi Qianmo said, his tone neutral. “But I have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Where is this ship headed?”

“To the capital,” the fat man replied smugly. “Welcome to your new life.”

Back in the cabin, Yi Qianmo shared a meal with the middle-aged man, now known to him as Eighteen, one of the fat man’s servants.

“Who is this fat man?” Yi Qianmo asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Watch your tongue!” Eighteen hissed. “That’s the master. Even a cultivator like you must show respect.”

“Oh?” Yi Qianmo smirked. “And what makes him so special?”

Eighteen puffed up. “He’s the son of the Dragon of the Yan Kingdom! A prince!”

Yi Qianmo chuckled. “A prince, you say? Then I definitely can’t call him ‘master.’”

“Why not?” Eighteen asked, startled.

“Because I’m the Yan Kingdom’s son-in-law,” Yi Qianmo said with a grin. “If I called him master, I’m afraid he couldn’t handle it.”

Eighteen’s jaw dropped, and his face turned pale. “Are you insane?!”