The journey to the Duke of Yuheng's mansion was quiet, the clatter of the carriage wheels the only sound filling the air. I sat stiffly across from Ruan Yanjun, my eyes fixed on the passing scenery, refusing to meet his gaze. Anger simmered beneath my calm exterior, fueled by what had transpired the night before. His kiss—uninvited, forceful, and overwhelming—still lingered in my mind, an affront I could neither forget nor forgive.
For his part, Ruan Yanjun seemed unfazed by the tension, reclining with his usual air of dominance. His indifference only irritated me further, yet I kept my thoughts to myself. It wasn't as if my words would make any difference to him.
By the time we arrived, the grand wedding ceremony had already concluded, and the banquet was in full swing. As our presence was announced, the Duke of Yuheng himself, along with the newlyweds, greeted us at the entrance of the grand hall. The respect they showed Ruan Yanjun bordered on reverence. Even the Duke's deference suggested that the Sect Leader's presence eclipsed that of Emperor An's daughter, a notion that unsettled me.
"This is Luo Fan, my disciple," Ruan Yanjun introduced me, his tone neutral yet commanding.
I noticed the subtle shifts in expression among the nobles. A few raised their eyebrows, their thoughts veiled behind polite masks. No doubt the rumors of my alleged affair with Ruan Yanjun had preceded us, and I could feel their silent judgment searing through me like an unspoken accusation.
Inside the hall, we were led to a seat of honor near the newlyweds, but I remained tense. Ruan Yanjun, however, was immediately surrounded by nobles and officials eager to pay their respects. I took the opportunity to observe the room, trying to distract myself from the oppressive weight of being in his shadow.
Amid the hustle and bustle of servants moving between tables, my gaze caught on a woman carrying a vessel of wine. Something about her movements set her apart—her steps lacked the practiced grace of the other servants, her eyes scanning the crowd with purpose rather than servitude. She wasn't here to serve. She was searching for something—or someone.
When her gaze locked with mine, she froze. Her expression betrayed recognition, though I couldn't place her. My grip tightened around my bamboo staff, instinct warning me that she might be a threat. But then, she raised a finger to her lips, a silent plea for me to stay calm.
Her gesture disarmed me. If she meant harm, it wasn't directed at me. But why was she here? When she turned and slipped into the courtyard, my curiosity overrode my caution, and I followed her.
Beneath the shadow of a plum tree, she stopped and turned to face me. "Priest Luo," she began softly, "you may not recognize me. We've met before, but at the time, you were blind."
Her voice was familiar, refined with the cadence of nobility. My brows furrowed as I tried to recall her. "May I know who you are?"
"I am Consort Fei, mother of the late Prince Sheng," she said, her words heavy with sorrow and resolve.
I stiffened, memories of her desperate plea for justice flashing through my mind. She had once come to me in tears, begging for answers about the poison that had killed her son. "Why are you here?" I asked cautiously.
"I'm searching for someone," she replied, her tone clipped.
The need for discretion was clear. For a consort of her status to disguise herself and infiltrate the Duke's mansion meant her purpose was not sanctioned by the court. "You're looking for Consort Xie, aren't you?" I ventured.
Her scoff was sharp, bitter. "That wretched woman deserves to suffer for what she's done, but I don't wish her dead. Not yet."
I froze as realization dawned. "You're after Prince Bai," I said, the pieces falling into place.
Her silence was all the confirmation I needed. The desire for vengeance burned in her eyes. She wasn't here to confront Consort Xie directly but to exact justice through the woman's son.
As I studied her, I noticed the faint aura of cultivation surrounding her. She was no ordinary noblewoman—her power had reached the second level. But against the guards surely protecting Prince Bai, it wouldn't be enough.
Before I could voice my concerns, her gaze flickered past me, and without another word, she fled into the shadows. Turning, I found Ruan Yanjun approaching, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding as ever.
"So, that was Consort Fei," he said casually, coming to stand beside me.
I nodded, wary of his tone.
"She's after Prince Bai, isn't she?" he asked, his eyes glinting with dark amusement.
I hesitated, but my silence betrayed me.
A cruel smile tugged at his lips. "Let her be. She deserves her chance at revenge. Whether she succeeds or fails, it will be... entertaining to watch."
My hands clenched at his callousness. To him, this was just another game, another story to amuse himself with. He didn't care about the tragedy that might unfold or the lives that would be destroyed in the process.
"Does everything have to be entertainment to you?" I asked bitterly.
His smile deepened, but he said nothing, leaving the question unanswered as the weight of his indifference pressed down on me. My thoughts lingered on Consort Fei, knowing her path was fraught with danger. Justice wasn't what awaited her—it was tragedy, and I hated that Ruan Yanjun seemed so eager to watch it play out.
My chest tightened with suppressed frustration. His infuriating calmness only heightened the storm of emotions swirling within me.
Just as I was beginning to wonder if the day could get any worse, a loud, self-assured voice cut through the air.
"Lord Ruan," the man called, his tone a blend of arrogance and challenge. "I've heard tales of your greatness. Allow me, Jiang Wuying, brother-in-law to the Duke, to test your skill. Let us spar—no cultivation, no tricks—just raw, unbridled skill."
I turned to see a tall man striding into the courtyard, his robes of deep crimson and gold a clear display of wealth and status. Jiang Wuying's sharp features were twisted into a cocky smirk, and his confident swagger drew the attention of several onlookers.
Ruan Yanjun barely glanced at him. "And why would I waste my time on you?" he asked, his tone dismissive.
Jiang Wuying's smirk faltered but quickly returned, more pronounced this time. "Afraid you'd lose, Lord Ruan? Or are you simply too cowardly to face me without your cultivation to rely on?"
Ruan Yanjun's chuckle was cold and sharp, cutting through Jiang Wuying's bravado. "Afraid? Hardly. But if you're so eager to embarrass yourself, why not start with my disciple?" He gestured toward me with an infuriatingly casual wave.
My stomach dropped. I shot him a glare, but he ignored me entirely, his smirk only deepening.
He couldn't possibly be serious about pushing me to fight a level four cultivator, could he?