The Arrogant Youth

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Eyes locked from all sides, the onlookers quickly dispersed, keeping their distance. Wu Zhi did not pursue the matter; instead, he glanced around and found a nearby teahouse to sit in. He called over a waiter and ordered a pot of tea and a plate of peanuts. Then, pulling the waiter close, he whispered low, “I’m telling you, what’s coming next is a real spectacle—something you won’t see more than a few times in your life. Don’t miss it.”

The waiter, half believing, half doubting, gathered with many others just outside what they thought was a safe boundary, waiting eagerly for the show to begin.

Before Zhang Ling could start cursing, the handsome young man across from him spoke first: “Do you know who I am?”

Zhang Ling glanced at Song Linjie beside him, his confidence swelling instantly. With a lofty air, he sneered, “I don’t give a damn who you are. You’re blocking my way, so today I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

The swordsman, hearing Zhang Ling’s tone and apparent intent to strike, stepped sideways, positioning himself in front of the young man, his hand poised on his sword hilt with practiced precision. Unexpectedly, Zhang Ling revealed a strange smile, stepping back several paces, lowering Li Dami who was with Song Linjie, and gesturing for him to attack. “Song Linjie, take care of him.”

Zhang Ling was no fool. Judging by the aura the man just displayed, he was at least a second-rank warrior. If he fought directly, he’d likely come off worse. With a capable expert like Song Linjie at his side, why not make full use of him? After all, he enjoyed fights—a perfect match all around.

Song Linjie advanced a heavy step, closing in, circling around with the Dao sword still sheathed. With his left hand wielding the blade, he swung down toward the swordsman’s head. The swordsman, calm and unhurried, flicked his sword lightly, performing a familiar parry. The moment the sword and blade clashed, both weapons curved and dropped simultaneously. Seizing the chance, Song Linjie bent his wrist and thrust his blade straight at the swordsman’s waist, nearly landing a decisive strike. Yet the swordsman’s fluid technique was no less impressive; his sword spun once around Song Linjie’s hand, striking back against the forging blade. Just as Song Linjie was about to fall backward, he hastened his retreat, regaining balance instantly. His right elbow bent sharply, striking toward the swordsman’s lung, but the blow was caught with one hand. Though close in combat and trading multiple blows, the outcome was perfectly even.

Below the first rank, true energy mostly circulates through the six orifices, making breath control difficult and continuous action challenging. When practicing martial arts, one often seeks a seamless sequence of moves or methods to swiftly exchange breath between techniques to maintain pressure on the opponent. Yet after this exchange, even an average second-rank would be overwhelmed, let alone one so calm and adept. Unless the swordsman had absolute confidence in relying solely on reflexes to parry one fierce strike after another, such a mindset belonged either to a seasoned veteran of the martial world or a first-rank warrior. And those entrusted as guards to a first-rank were either of high status or powerful influence.

As Zhang Ling pondered this, Song Linjie impatiently struck again. They dashed about, igniting the Mirage Red Shadow technique. Their steps flickered like dancing dragons and snakes, their sword and blade intertwined inseparably. Sensing danger, Song Linjie drew the forging blade free, unleashing blade qi in two sweeping arcs. The blade qi struck a teahouse’s slender pillar, splitting it in two. Fortunately, the teahouse was sturdily built, with another half supporting it, though it now wobbled precariously. The errant sword qi sliced through the main gate of an inn, each door panel losing half its structure.

Neither gained the upper hand. Both retreated to their companions. The young handsome man smiled warmly, turning to Song Linjie: “Young brother, your skills are impressive. Would you consider joining my faction? We possess all the secret martial arts manuals. And if you ask, I will strive to acquire for you anything this world holds.”

As proximity breeds resemblance, having followed Zhang Ling for so long, Song Linjie had naturally picked up his habit of speaking without restraint. Looking down arrogantly, he boasted, “What genius I am—do you dare compare?”

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The two were on the verge of drawing swords when Zhang Ling suddenly grabbed Song Linjie and cautiously asked the young handsome man, “May I ask who you are?”

Despite their earlier clash, the young man remained courteous and replied, “I am the Crown Prince, Chen Jinyu.”

Zhang Ling’s mind reeled in shock, his thoughts racing. After a moment’s pause, he pointed at himself and asked, “Then do you know who I am?”

Planning a trick in the dark, Zhang Ling was unprepared for the other’s thorough response: “You are Zhang Ling, from Luochuan Prefecture. The darker-skinned one beside you is Li Dami. The one who just fought my royal guard is Song Linjie, the youngest second-rank warrior in the history of Chen Kingdom and the heir of the Blade King. Not only you, but I know all the disciples of Chengdao Academy except for the old dean, whose true appearance I have yet to see. Although my father forbids royal children from participating in the academy’s selection, I have your portraits.”

Zhang Ling tugged Song Linjie, preparing to leave, feigning indifference: “Nice weather today, fresh air too. Song Linjie, let’s go back to the academy and air out our bedding.”

Chen Jinyu called after them, “Do you know the crime of attacking a prince in public?”

Zhang Ling stepped forward, coolly meeting his gaze: “The academy is a martial world force, not under the court’s jurisdiction. There’s a saying—what was it you said, Song Linjie?”

Zhang Ling’s anger flared, while Song Linjie, fearless of heaven or earth, pointed at Chen Jinyu’s nose and retorted defiantly, “Am I giving you face or not?”

The audience below, Wu Zhi among them, applauded heartily. The actors on stage not only performed vividly but spoke boldly and unrestrainedly.

Hearing the noise behind him, Zhang Ling knew the other was deliberately keeping quiet to watch the show unfold. Turning back, he wiped his neck and signaled with his eyes: “Just you wait.”

Upon hearing the prince’s identity and the brazen words, the swordsman guard could no longer tolerate it and reached for his sword. But the prince pressed him back with the blade, lightly laughing: “As the rumors say, Chengdao Academy’s disciples are wildly rebellious. Today’s encounter proves their reputation well deserved.”

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Zhang Ling relaxed his stance and spoke plainly: “You don’t seem angry. What now? Another fight?”

Chen Jinyu stepped forward himself. His guards tried to intervene but were brushed aside.

The prince spoke softly: “I dislike fighting and prefer harmony. I don’t drink alcohol, only tea. I’m no good at quarrels, but skilled in conversation. Might I invite Brother Zhang for a talk at the Eastern Palace?”

Zhang Ling readily agreed: “Peace is precious. Matters that can be settled over drinks don’t require fists.”

From his sleeve, Zhang Ling produced a silver ingot and flicked it forcefully, landing right in the peanut dish before Wu Zhi, shattering it to bits. “Help buy some seeds of Li Dami. We’ll tell you what you want to know when we return.”

Wu Zhi smiled, nodding as he continued eating, regardless of the shards.

After Zhang Ling’s instructions, Chen Jinyu said, “Shall we go?”

Chen Jinyu led the way, followed by his guard. Song Linjie kept a distance of about ten feet behind, with Zhang Ling bringing up the rear another five feet back. They maintained strict spacing, cautious despite trusting the prince’s gentlemanly demeanor, ever wary of underhandedness.