Chapter 153 - 152: Invitation from Prince Qing’s Mansion

Chapter 153: Chapter 152: Invitation from Prince Qing’s Mansion

The capital of the Great Derivation was divided into five regions: East, South, West, North, and Central.

The Forbidden City, the imperial palace, sat at the very heart of the capital, protected by the four surrounding regions.

Aside from the central Forbidden City, a common saying circulated among the populace: "West City is chaotic, North City is noble, East City is rich, and South City is poor."

This saying arose from the demographics of each district.

West City was mostly inhabited by visiting travelers. These Martial Artists were hot-blooded, sparking at least four or five brawls a day—hence its reputation for chaos.

Wealthy merchants, on the other hand, tended to live in East City, seeking to distance themselves from the turmoil of West City and find some peace.

Commoners lived in the uneventful South City, while most government officials resided in North City.

Naturally, Prince Qing’s estate was located in North City, alongside the manors of other powerful court dignitaries.

After spending the night sating a pouting Ye Qingshi, Fang Can set out alone from West City early the next morning, heading for North City.

Compared to the clamor of West City, the atmosphere in North City was completely different. Even the architectural style of the residences was uniform.

One could roughly deduce the rank and status of a residence’s owner simply by its size and design.

As one of the handful of Third Turn experts in the entire imperial court, Prince Qing’s status in the Great Derivation was naturally an exalted one.

In accordance with protocol, the main gate of his estate was studded with sixty-three massive nails. Because he was hosting a banquet today, most of the arriving guests were young people dressed in martial attire.

’Profound Gate Eighth Layer, Profound Gate Ninth Layer, Profound Gate Eighth Layer...’

Fang Can’s gaze swept over them, and by observing with his eyes and ears, he could roughly estimate the power of these young people.

And while these young men carried themselves with a carefree air, they were all relatively respectful here, in front of Prince Qing’s estate.

This was because the dozen-plus armored guards at the gate were their equals in Realm. If a fight broke out, the absolute best any one of them could do was take on ten men, and even that was pushing it.

To say nothing of the wiry steward standing at the entrance.

He appeared to be greeting each guest with a warm and enthusiastic smile, but his power was unfathomable, far beyond the scope of the Transcendent Body realm.

’Worthy of Prince Qing’s estate. Even a steward is at least at the First Turn,’ Fang Can thought, his gaze fixed on the wiry old man.

The Heaven-Ascending Road Realm couldn’t be judged by common sense. In the Transcendent Body Realm, it was a contest of size—the bigger you were, the more of a badass you were. Shorter people started at a natural disadvantage.

But on the Heaven-Ascending Road, with its endless array of bizarre and cunning techniques, brute size wasn’t nearly as effective.

After observing from a distance for a moment, Fang Can stepped forward.

As he approached, the wiry steward was just finishing up with the previous group of guests when he saw Fang Can. His eyes instantly lit up, and he hurried forward to say,

"You must be the Young Hero Fang Can. The Prince specifically instructed me to look out for you. Please, come into the estate with me right away."

After speaking, under the astonished gazes of the other Martial Artists, the steward ignored everyone else and led Fang Can directly into the estate.

"What’s going on? Is that Fang Can guy so special?"

"Exactly! He hasn’t even entered the Heaven-Ascending Road. We’re all at the Profound Gate Eighth or Ninth Layer, what makes him different?"

"So what if he’s a beast? At most, he could take on three or four of us. What’s there to be so arrogant about?"

...

The group of young Martial Artists watched Fang Can disappear through the gates, their hearts filled with resentment.

Apart from them, however, another group of people timidly shrank back, not daring to even look at his retreating figure.

Inside the grand reception hall, a dazzling array of rare delicacies was on display, and exquisite nectars flowed like streams.

As each Martial Artist stepped inside, a herald to the side would announce their rank on the Celestial Secret List.

"Announcing Yang Feng, number 195 on the Hidden Dragon List!"

At the announcement, a young man in a gold-threaded brocade robe strode in, drawing the attention of everyone in the hall.

"Brother Yang Feng, I heard Fang Can gave you a real thrashing a few days ago. Has it only been a few days? Your severed arm is already reattached?"

A Martial Artist said, looking at Yang Feng with a teasing smirk that drew the eyes of those around them.

"N-Nonsense! It was just a spar, it doesn’t count as a beating."

The young man named Yang Feng hadn’t expected to be mocked the moment he walked in. He stiffened his neck, his face flushing red.

A young man dressed in lavish robes and cloud-silk slippers added, "Just a few days ago, my own believers saw you with their own eyes. You were stripped naked by Fang Can’s believers, hung from a flagpole, and whipped."

"Hmph! So what? It’s not like I was the only one who lost."

Now that he’d been exposed, Yang Feng threw in the towel and started pointing fingers. "Li Xiuying, Zhao Siqian, Sun Gui Lian, Zhou..."

As Yang Feng called out the names, every Martial Artist mentioned shot him a furious glare.

"All of these guys were defeated by Fang Can, too! So there’s no shame in me losing to him," Yang Feng concluded after his roll call.

This public confession sent the hall into an uproar. Everyone turned to stare mockingly at the guys who had been stripped naked and hung from a flagpole.

"Hahaha, interesting, truly interesting! I heard your believers were all there with you—at least a thousand Heart Image Martial Artists—and yet you all ended up pathetically begging Fang Can to let you go."

A boorish young man with his robes hanging open slammed his hand on the table and laughed.

"So is that Fang Can at the First Turn or Second Turn? You had a thousand Heart Image Martial Artists on the scene, plus all those lower-Realm ones—that’s at least ten thousand people. Why didn’t you dare to fight him?"

"What makes you think we didn’t try?" a few of the named Martial Artists shot back angrily.

"That Fang Can is an animal! Thousands of us attacked him at once, and he still flattened us in a few moves."

Originally, Fang Can had at least left them their loincloths. But because they tried to riot, even that final shred of dignity was torn away.

"Nonsense. That was several thousand Martial Artists, not several thousand pigs. You couldn’t even defeat that many pigs so quickly."

A Martial Artist on the Hidden Dragon List couldn’t help but jeer, "You guys actually believe that rumor about him defeating a First Turn expert?"

"You haven’t met Fang Can, so of course you wouldn’t understand. Keep talking big when you see him, and he’ll send you flying," Li Xiuying sneered.

The other Martial Artists paid him no mind, assuming this group had simply been beaten into submission by Fang Can and had become his loyal lapdogs.

Just as they were trading sarcastic jabs, the herald, who had witnessed the entire exchange from nearby, announced, "Announcing Fang Can, number one on the Rising Dragon List!"

Instantly, the hall fell silent. All eyes turned toward the entrance of the reception hall.

A long staircase led up to the entrance, so they could not yet see the person arriving. They could only rely on their astonishingly sharp hearing to catch the sound of calm, even footsteps.

CLACK... CLACK...

To the Martial Artists who had been strung up before, each footstep felt like it was stomping on their hearts.

As all eyes were fixed on the entrance, a white-haired young man slowly came into full view at the top of the stairs, his gaze sweeping over the crowd as if looking down on everything.

’The younger generation of the Yan Country... is nothing special.’

With that thought, Fang Can went forward, found an empty spot, and took a seat.

He looked at the delicacies arranged before him, picked up an apple, and began to munch on it in silence.

As for the many Martial Artists who had been talking such a big game earlier, now that they were face-to-face with the man himself, they were nowhere near as arrogant as their words had suggested.

A strange, silent atmosphere spread throughout the hall.