“Ahh—”
Screams echoed through Yuegui Studio as Ji Yanqing channeled spiritual energy into his fists, raining blows on Ma Yang’s face with ruthless force.
“You useless idiots, what are you standing there for? Kill him!” Ma Yang, sprawled on the ground clutching his head, wailed at his lackeys. Though Ji Yanqing was only at the fourth level of Qi Condensation, Ma Yang’s “factory settings” were even more pathetic.
Twenty years of training… and still not at Qi Condensation.
At their young master’s command, the Ma family’s Gathering Spirit Realm guards drew their blades, slashing wildly at the heir.
Facing the onslaught of multiple Gathering Spirit cultivators, Ji Yanqing remained calm, not retaliating, merely tilting his head to avoid stray blows.
Before the sabers could graze his hair, a sharp sword flew from outside, tracing a full silver arc in the air. Sparks flew as it clashed with metal, shattering the blades.
But it didn’t end there. As the sword returned to Ji Qingyan’s hand, two wrist-thick black iron chains lashed out at the Ma family guards.
In an instant, the Gathering Spirit cultivators were either bound by the chains or knocked flat, writhing in agony.
Two Qian Yuan Realm cultivators from the crowd flashed to Ji Yanqing’s side, shielding him.
These Wei King’s Mansion top retainers, Gan Ping and Gan Zhuo, were once infamous assassins from the Purple Plume Pavilion’s elite ranks.
After a failed mission, the pavilion cast them out. They planned to retire, but the Wei King’s Mansion’s generous offer (read: absurd wealth) lured them to serve as retainers.
Though only Qian Yuan in realm, their joint Sky-Tier technique, Nine Locks Binding Dragon, could subdue ordinary Transformation Realm experts. Using it on Gathering Spirit cultivators was like slaughtering chickens with a butcher’s cleaver.
“You—stay back! My father won’t let you off!” Ma Yang stammered, his face ashen, legs flailing as he failed to stand.
Ji Yanqing casually picked up a short blade, twirling it, then slowly approached Ma Yang.
Clang!
The blade plunged into the floor, half an inch from Ma Yang’s head.
“I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll spare your dog’s life,” Ji Yanqing said, a chilling glint in his eyes as he smiled. “But there must be a penalty.”
Ma Yang’s eyes widened in terror, his pants soaked. Trembling, he asked, “You… you’re the Heir?”
“Who else in Ye City would dare claim that title but me, Ji Yanqing?”
“Your Highness! I was blind to offend you—damn me!” Ma Yang slid to his knees, frantically slapping his own face with both hands.
To commoners, the Ma family, built on underground gambling dens, was untouchable. To the Wei King’s Mansion, they were laughable.
Ji Yanqing glanced around, noticing Tongyue had vanished.
Sure, his reputation wasn’t stellar—girls he “saved” either threw themselves at him or jumped into rivers—but a basic thank-you was common courtesy, no?
[How ungrateful. You’ll make her wear Su Ningyue’s clothes, kneel by your bed, and apologize like a woman.]
Ignoring the narrator, Ji Yanqing eyed the swollen-faced Ma young master, flashing a malicious smile. “I’m pleased you apologized, but I don’t like your outfit.”
He paused, then ordered the Gan brothers loudly, “Break his legs and toss him at the Ma family gate. If asked, say Ji Yanqing did it.”
The ivory fan snapped shut. The chains whipped toward Ma Yang’s knees, splattering blood and bone. He fainted from pain before he could scream.
Seeing this, the chattering crowd realized who he was, parting to make way, heads bowed, barely breathing.
Under everyone’s gaze, Wei King’s Mansion soldiers marched into Yuegui Studio, hauling out the half-dead thugs.
“Shopkeeper Chu, one box of Red Jade Honey Cream, one of Orchid Fragrance Powder,” Ji Yanqing said, glancing at Ji Qingyan by the door. After a moment’s thought, he added, “And one of Rose Dew Cream.”
Rouge shades were once a mystery to him, but frequent brothel visits and tasting girls’ lip rouge taught him well.
He pulled two hundred-tael silver notes from his sleeve and slapped them on the counter.
…
The Night-Illuminating Jade Lion trotted through Ye City’s streets, its well-groomed tail swaying.
Ji Qingyan, lost in thought, her phoenix eyes dazed, didn’t notice Ji Yanqing’s hands tightening around her waist.
Inhaling the faint fragrance of her hair, Ji Yanqing was in high spirits. Not only did he buy rouge for Auntie Xie, but he also thrashed the Ma family’s second son.
He could already imagine tomorrow’s gossip: “In broad daylight, the Heir vigorously fondled a man’s sensitive parts, leaving onlookers too shocked to watch!”
Then, with Ye City’s two hundred-plus storytellers working round-the-clock in taverns, his already floor-level reputation would sink to the basement.
“Miss Qingyan, something on your mind? You’ve been glum since leaving Yuegui Studio,” Ji Yanqing asked softly.
“Nothing,” Ji Qingyan mumbled, leaning quietly against him, silent.
Shopkeeper Chu’s tales—from framing loyalists to hoarding troops and refining elixirs with children’s hearts—shattered Ji Qingyan’s image of the kind, charming Uncle Liu.
Worse, Chu shared a rumor: how Liu Sili used cunning to eliminate his sect brother, climbing to Prime Minister.
“That girl in the green skirt earlier—wasn’t she at Weiyuan Escort Agency?” Ji Qingyan asked, shifting topics and scooting forward, feeling uneasy in her spot.
“Su Ningyue’s maid, Tongyue, I think. No manners—didn’t even say thanks,” Ji Yanqing replied.
“Shouldn’t you reflect on yourself?” Ji Qingyan scoffed. In her two days in Ye City, when not teased by Ji Yanqing, she heard storytellers recount his exploits with pretty girls.
“Reflect? Nah,” Ji Yanqing said, whistling a tune casually. “When did Tongyue slip away, Miss Qingyan? I was hoping she’d play matchmaker with Miss Su.”
“No good intentions, as expected,” Ji Qingyan huffed. “I didn’t see her leave Yuegui Studio. She probably hid in the crowd to avoid you, you lecher.”
“You sure she didn’t escape?”
“As a Transformation Realm cultivator, if she slipped past me, she’d need at least Qian Yuan cultivation,” Ji Qingyan said smugly.
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