As the steward of the Yan King's mansion, he was well-versed in the myriad of personalities that populated the vast capital. He knew all their quirks, eccentricities, grudges, and the individuals who were not to be trifled with. Among the many notable figures in the city, Wushuang was one of the most troublesome and difficult to handle. Unbound by societal norms, he moved freely, paying no heed to customs or rank, acting as he pleased without regard for anyone's reputation.
Wushuang had one overriding passion: battle. The stronger his opponent, the more exhilarated he became. Whether or not his opponent agreed, Wushuang would force them into a duel, using whatever means necessary to provoke them into a fight. Within a mere year, he had challenged countless masters in the capital, each one a formidable martial artist, and even a few cultivators.
Half a year ago, Wushuang had come to challenge the Yan King himself. With his lofty status, Yuwen Lie had dismissed the challenge as beneath him. But Wushuang, undeterred, stormed into the mansion, wreaking havoc and nearly injuring the King's beloved second daughter. Furious, Yuwen Lie had engaged him in a battle that lasted a hundred rounds. In the end, Wushuang was defeated, though the King, despite his victory, had not emerged unscathed.
After that, Wushuang's fame skyrocketed, and many factions sought to win him over, though he remained indifferent to their entreaties. Only a select few knew of Wushuang's true identity and background, and Yuwen Lie was one of them.
Now, as Yang Fan stood before the esteemed figures of the capital, Wushuang suddenly rose to his feet, a clear sign that he was looking for yet another challenge. Tonight, however, Yang Fan was the guest of honor, being rewarded by the Yan King himself. If Wushuang were to challenge him here, the consequences could be dire. Yang Fan could feel the surge of battle intent emanating from Wushuang, leaving him momentarily stunned. Could it be that Wushuang intended to challenge him?
The grand hall fell silent, so still that even the sound of breathing was clear. Yuwen Lie clenched his fists, his eyes flickering with a mixture of anger and a hidden murderous intent. "If he dares to cause trouble again..." he thought darkly.
The guests in the hall were of varied mindsets—some worried, some eager for a spectacle, and others quietly gloating. Sitting not far from Yang Fan, the physician Lu could barely contain his excitement, silently wishing for Wushuang to stir up chaos immediately.
Yang Fan knew retreat was not an option now. Instead, he smiled gently and looked at Wushuang, asking, "Young man, do you have something to say?"
"Young man?"
The crowd was astonished. In all of the capital, few dared to speak to Wushuang in such a tone. True, Wushuang was young—only about fifteen or sixteen years old—but addressing him so casually was something no one had done. He was not just any youth; he was the most unrestrained, battle-hungry prodigy of the age—a once-in-a-generation talent.
Even the likes of Yuwen Xin and the Yan King himself tensed, anxious for what might follow.
"Is tonight's banquet at the palace destined for unrest?" the steward thought with a wry smile, quietly signaling the palace guards to be ready for anything.
To everyone's surprise, Wushuang's reaction was far from explosive. Instead, after a brief moment, he took a deep breath and, with an unexpected gesture of humility, bowed toward Yang Fan.
"I thank you, physician, for saving the Second Princess. Wushuang owes you a great debt of gratitude."
Yang Fan was momentarily taken aback. He had expected a challenge, not a display of gratitude.
A murmur of astonishment rippled through the hall. Even the Yan King glanced at Wushuang in surprise, as if doubting whether the boy had suddenly lost his senses.
"You give me too much credit," Yang Fan replied with a faint smile. "It is a physician's duty to save lives."
With no apparent animosity, Yang Fan responded courteously. Wushuang, after bowing, straightened up and added coolly, "Though you saved the Second Princess, physician, you remain one of my intended opponents here in the capital."
As he spoke, a battle-hardened excitement flared in Wushuang's eyes, so intense that Yang Fan could almost feel the surging of his blood. Wushuang's hand trembled with anticipation, and even the ancient sword on his back began to hum in response, resonating with his mounting desire for combat. In that moment, Wushuang's entire being seemed to swell with an overwhelming, terrifying force, as though he were on the verge of breaking free from all worldly constraints.
Yang Fan felt a cold shock wash over him, the weight of a looming threat settling heavily in his heart. "This mere fifteen-year-old swordsman... how is it that he can make me feel such intense danger?" Yang Fan mused in astonishment.
Not even when facing the Yan King had Yang Fan felt such overwhelming pressure. Locked in Wushuang's gaze, Yang Fan had a chilling realization: no matter how far he ran, Wushuang would never cease to pursue him.
"Enough!" Yuwen Lie slammed his hand down on the table, his voice icy. "This is the Yan King's palace. How dare you behave so insolently? If you continue, don't blame me for banishing you from the capital!"
"Banished from the capital?" Wushuang laughed coldly. "I have no regard for your worldly customs or rules. If you could drive me out of the capital, I would welcome it. Unfortunately..."
He trailed off with a sigh, almost as though regretting something. "Unfortunately, I am still bound to this place."
Just then, nearly a hundred palace guards stormed into the hall, weapons drawn, surrounding Wushuang with murderous intent.
"So, you're going to use force?" Wushuang's expression darkened. With a mere flick of his hand through the air, a bright, cold light flashed.
"Stop!" Yuwen Lie's eyes narrowed, but his command came a moment too late.
Wushuang paid no heed to anyone. With a sweep of his hand, sword energy burst forth like a storm. The air hummed with the sound of blades slicing through the space around him.
"Boom!"
The clash of forces was deafening as Wushuang unleashed his power. Both he and Yuwen Lie were sent reeling from the shockwave of their exchange, and the ensuing blast shattered the space around them. Even a nearby cultivator at the Qi Refining stage was grievously injured by the sheer force.
The two continued their battle, their figures blurring into afterimages as they disappeared from the hall.
The old steward sighed heavily, instructing the servants and guards to clean up the mess. "Please, no one panic," he reassured the guests. "The Yan King will soon deal with this, and we will continue our banquet afterward."
Meanwhile, some among the guests, eager to witness the fight, hurried outside to watch the spectacle unfold.
"Father is fighting that mad swordsman again!" the youngest princess exclaimed with delight. "Yang Physician, Sister, let's go watch!" She tugged at Yuwen Xin's hand, inviting Yang Fan to join them, her concern for her father's safety seemingly non-existent.
Yang Fan nodded and followed the two princesses outside.
Outside the hall, the two figures clashed with the force of titans, their strikes echoing like thunder. Shockwaves rippled through the air, toppling trees and pavilions. With a great crash, a pavilion collapsed in the distance, sending clouds of dust into the sky.
"Is this the kind of power mortals can possess?" Yang Fan murmured in awe.
Though neither Yuwen Lie nor Wushuang could fly, they moved through the air with an uncanny grace, as if gravity itself bent to their will. Each clash sent them hurtling through the sky like gods, and the raw power they unleashed left even lower-level cultivators trembling with fear. Yang Fan marveled at the sheer extent of their strength.
In truth, even if Yang Fan were to face either of these two in combat, he feared he would be hard-pressed to hold his own for long.
"Ha ha ha... What a fight! Yuwen Lie, take my final strike!"
Wushuang's figure came to a sudden stop in mid-air, and for a moment, he stood suspended there, his white robes billowing in the winds of the battle. He looked like a god descended to earth, serene amidst the chaos.
Yuwen Lie's expression grew dark. His arms crossed, and he inhaled deeply. A faint golden light appeared on his forehead, mysterious and otherworldly. At the same time, his body began to swell, a faint gleam of golden scales flickering across his skin, as though he were transforming into a dragon.
"Dragon Break!"
A golden aura radiated from Yuwen Lie, forming a protective barrier around him. The light on his forehead condensed into the shape of a serpentine dragon, which lunged at Wushuang with terrifying ferocity.
A power beyond the mortal realm rippled across the battlefield, sending tremors of fear through all living beings within its reach.
Yang Fan, watching intently, felt his heart race with unease. "What level of power is this...?"
In that moment, a strange light flickered in his deep, dark eyes.