The murmurs among the crowd—both above and below—filled the air like the aftermath of a summer storm. The tension from the fight had lifted, but the weight of what they had witnessed still hung over everyone.
"Did… did he just split Chu Fengxian's attack like it was a melon?" one core court disciple asked, eyes wide as if he were still trying to convince himself it wasn't a dream.
"Not just any melon," his friend whispered back, clutching his chest as though he'd held his breath the entire time. "That was the royal melon. And did you see Phaelo's face? He didn't even look serious!"
"I was thinking the same thing! He's up there like we're all just here for his entertainment," a younger disciple piped up, his voice filled with admiration, awe, and just a touch of envy.
High above, the elders tried to maintain their composed, dignified expressions, though their hearts beat as fast as the disciples below.
Elder Han was the first to break the silence among the elders, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I taught him that, you know. The controlled strikes, mastery over the Dao of space-time. All of it."
Elder Wei snorted, a grin breaking through his serious expression. "You taught him? The last time I saw you 'demonstrate,' you tripped over your own robes and called it 'advanced technique.'"
Elder Han huffed, straightening with an indignant look. "That was a strategic trip, Wei. Strategy. Not that you'd understand, with all that brute force."
Elder Wei rolled his eyes, trying to keep a straight face. "Strategic or not, if I hadn't bailed you out, you'd still be stuck halfway up that tree."
A few nearby disciples heard and tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle their laughter.
"Bah! I allowed myself to get stuck! I was testing my resilience!" Elder Han muttered, clearly losing the argument but refusing to back down.
_____
Meanwhile, on the ground, the inner court disciples had their own commentary.
"Did you see how he barely moved? It was like Chu Fengxian was slashing at air!" one of them whispered, his admiration barely contained.
"Yeah, and the way Phaelo kept talking… it was like he'd already seen the outcome of the fight before it started," another disciple commented, eyes wide. "I swear, if a dragon fell out of the sky, he'd probably just invite it over for tea."
"That's Yue Phaelo for you," an older disciple said with a wise nod. "He doesn't need to flaunt his power. Half of it's in that relaxed attitude."
"And the other half is in that smirk," another disciple muttered, causing a ripple of laughter.
_____
Back with my family, the response was quieter but equally amused.
"Not bad, not bad at all," my mother, Bao Linyue, murmured as she watched the prince lie in the rubble below. "I reminded him not to ruin his robes before dinner, and at least he learned to keep it clean. Priorities." Her smile was almost motherly, as though tidiness ranked just as highly as swordsmanship.
My first grandmother, Yue Zhaoxiang, chuckled softly. "He's always slightly overdoing it, isn't he? If I'd known he was so attached to his sword, I would've gifted him the best sword sooner." She winked, a touch of mischief in her eyes.
My second grandmother, Bao Zhenhua, let out a hearty laugh. "I wonder if he'll leave anything of the poor prince intact. I was hoping to lecture him on proper dueling etiquette!"
The three of them exchanged knowing glances, their expressions more entertained than concerned.
"Oh, the aftermath will be worth watching," Bao Linyue said with a sigh. "He'll probably try to pass it off as a 'cultural misunderstanding.'"
Standing off to the side, Long Zhen crossed his arms, trying hard to keep a neutral expression. "Impressive," he muttered, trying to sound casual. "But if I'd been in that fight… things might've gone a bit differently."
Bai Lifen snorted, rolling her eyes. "Right. Sure. Maybe if you were lucky, you'd still have your head. I've never seen anyone make the prince look like a duckling with a sword before."
"Hey, I could do that!" Long Zhen protested, although he sounded as if he needed convincing himself.
Bai Lifen gave him a long stare, clearly unimpressed. "Right. Just as soon as you learn how to dodge a rock properly."
_____
Long Zhen's cheeks turned red, remembering his last sparring session when he'd stumbled over a stray pebble.
Hovering near the edge of the battlefield listening to everything, Ling Xueying's face was a storm of emotions. As the daughter of the Sky Above Realm's general, she should have had no doubts about where her loyalties lay. Chu Fengxian was royalty, and her rank demanded respect for the prince.
But her heart… well, that was a different story.
She admired those of Long Zhen and Bai Lifen who didn't care about any of these and just laughed it off.
She bit her lip, her gaze darting from the prince, bruised and battered, to Yue Phaelo, who stood above him like he owned the sky itself. She admired his strength, the way he carried himself with ease and confidence, his unshakable calm. But—
"Shouldn't I support the prince? she thought, feeling the tug of duty. "It's the right thing to do… right?"
Yet, as she watched Yue Phaelo, pride radiating from him like sunlight, her heart wavered. She couldn't deny how he made her feel—like he was the only one worth rooting for. And really, how could she resist? He was the only one who'd ever made her heart race like this.
Her mind said one thing, but her heart had other ideas.
Yue Phaelo might think Ling Xueying was just obsessed with him but she genuinely liked him.