Lanting Poetry Gathering, The Foremost Beauty!

Even with a blade at his throat, Ghost Hand remained unflustered.

"Ninth Young Master, you're merely a Third-grade Martial Artist, alone and unaided—don't underestimate me too much!"

"Blood Fiend—Nine Abyss Soul Devour!"

Suddenly, Ghost Hand bit his tongue tip, using his essence blood to swiftly draw a curse seal.

"Boom!"

In midair, a Blood-colored Skeleton materialized, carrying a gale of blood and gore, wailing vengeful spirits, and hurtling straight at Xiao Yang, who stood right before it.

This technique was a forbidden art of the Witchcraft Sect, requiring a sacrifice of ten years of life force.

Rumor had it that a Witch King once used this curse to annihilate an entire city's population.

"Ninth Young Master, you're dead for sure!" Ghost Hand's face lit up with excitement.

In his view, at such close range, Xiao Yang had no chance of escape!

But Xiao Yang had no intention of fleeing. Instead, he stepped forward boldly toward the Blood-colored Skeleton.

"Dragon's Wrath Resonance!"

The next moment, golden light blazed from his body, activating the innate ability of the Mysterious Scale Ten Thousand Dragon Armor—absorbing the enemy's attack and countering with a True Dragon Phantom.

Boom!

From the void, a dragon shadow shot forth, shattering the Blood-colored Skeleton in an instant. Its residual force, undiminished, slammed into Ghost Hand.

"Bang!"

Ghost Hand flew backward, tracing a parabola through the air, before crashing to the ground like a dead dog, barely breathing.

"H-How... how is this possible?!" Ghost Hand stared in disbelief.

Wasn't the Ninth Young Master of King Zhenbei's Mansion supposed to be a useless failure?

Had he been hiding his strength all along?

Xiao Yang, however, wore a calm expression, as if this outcome were only natural.

With a full set of six divine items and a Resurrection Armor equipped, how could he lose?

In truth, he had his own scheme.

Ghost Hand was a Fifth Grade cultivator. If he'd been determined to flee, Xiao Yang truly couldn't have stopped him.

But he deliberately feigned weakness, giving Ghost Hand the illusion that he could kill him, then used the Mysterious Scale Ten Thousand Dragon Armor to counterattack, crippling Ghost Hand in one blow!

"Since you have no last words, prepare to hit the road!" Xiao Yang readied his saber.

"Wait! Ninth Young Master, don't kill me! I'm willing to be your dog... I can spy on the Eldest Prince for you!" Ghost Hand hurriedly begged for mercy.

"Too late!"

Xiao Yang shook his head. He wouldn't trust such a venomous wretch. But then he suddenly smiled. "Tell you what—flip a copper coin. If it lands standing upright on the ground, I'll spare your life."

What?!

Hearing this, Ghost Hand's face turned uglier than if he'd eaten shit.

Wasn't this just messing with him?

But with no other choice, he pulled out a copper coin and tossed it into the air.

"Clatter..."

The coin rolled across the ground and, by some fluke, wedged itself upright into a crack in the floor.

"It's standing! It's standing!"

Ghost Hand shouted wildly, more excited than if he'd won the jackpot.

"Bang!"

But the next moment, Xiao Yang stomped on the coin, flattening it into the dirt.

"Sorry, it fell over again. Looks like heaven isn't on your side."

Then, Xiao Yang swung his saber, a flash of blade-light streaking through the air.

"Shk!"

A red line appeared on Ghost Hand's neck. Blood sprayed as his head tumbled to the ground.

Xiao Yang sheathed his saber and slipped away under the cover of night.

The next morning, at the Eldest Prince's Estate.

"Your Highness, something terrible has happened!"

The strategist Lu Xu rushed into the hall, reporting urgently, "Last night, Ghost Hand was assassinated at his home—his body and head were separated!"

"Who did it?" Xiao Junlin asked.

"Unclear. There were no witnesses at the scene, but the attacker used the Thunderclap Saber Technique. It should be an expert from the Vermilion Bird Army," Lu Xu replied.

"Oh?"

Xiao Junlin raised an eyebrow.

Losing one retainer didn't pain him, but since the Vermilion Bird Army was behind it, combined with Ghost Hand activating the Heart Piercing Blood Curse last night, the other side was clearly protecting Xiao Yang!

At the same time, it was a warning sent across the void.

"Tsk tsk, looks like Ninth Brother really has latched onto Ning Hongye's thigh. Could it be he actually didn't mind that ugly freak and went through with the wedding night?" Xiao Junlin muttered to himself.

"Your Highness, now that Xiao Yang has the Vermilion Bird Army backing him, using force against him would be unwise," Lu Xu cautioned.

"No matter, I still have other methods!"

Xiao Junlin gave a cold smirk: "If force won't work, then we'll go soft. Let Second Brother handle it. When it comes to killing without drawing blood, no one does it better than a scholar."

"Your Highness is truly brilliant!"

Lu Xu's eyes lit up as if an idea struck him, and he immediately offered a flattering remark.

On the other side.

Xiao Yang was cultivating in his residence, his mind also calculating which of his brothers he could visit to mooch some spiritual treasures.

"Thump thump thump!"

Suddenly, Huangli knocked on the door: "Young Master, Qiu Ya, the maidservant from the Second Prince's Mansion, is here seeking an audience!"

"Let her in!" Xiao Yang said.

Soon, a tall, slender maidservant walked in.

She wore a goose-yellow palace dress that outlined her graceful figure. She looked a few years older than Huangli, exuding a captivating feminine charm.

In terms of facial features, she was naturally a beauty picked from ten thousand—bright eyes, red lips, and pearly white teeth.

"Greetings, Ninth Young Master!"

Qiu Ya bowed in salute, then produced a gilded invitation from her jade-like hand and respectfully presented it.

"Tonight, my master is hosting the Lanting Poetry Gathering. He has already invited the literary talents of the Four Prefectures of the Northern Territory. It will be a grand affair, and he hopes the Ninth Young Master will grace us with his presence."

Xiao Yang looked at the invitation. Its edges were gilded, and the base was silk.

Just the material alone was worth several dozen taels of silver—equivalent to several years' income for an ordinary commoner. This alone showed its extravagance.

He searched his memory for what he knew of the Second Prince.

His mother was born into a colossal merchant family in Jiangnan and was also a disciple of the Second Sage at the Confucian Temple.

It was said that when Xiao Ziwen was born, a meteor streaked across the sky and fell upon the prince's mansion, earning him the reputation of being the Wenqu Star descended to earth.

Xiao Ziwen had never trained in martial arts. Instead, he had read the works of the sages since childhood, walking the path of the Confucianism system. With his exceptional talent, he had now reached the Fifth Grade.

The Fifth Grade of Confucianism was the "Gentleman" realm, where ink and brush could protect the body, and poems could transform into mountains and rivers.

As the saying goes, "A gentleman uses words, not fists."

Martial artists believed Confucians were all talk, only good at moving their lips.

Confucians, in turn, thought martial artists were crude and vulgar, utterly insufferable.

Walking the Confucian path required not just money and resources, but also social status. It was extremely rare, and commoners had almost no opportunity to study it.

"Thank Second Brother for his kindness, but I have no interest in any poetry gathering," Xiao Yang shook his head and declined.

He remembered now: Second Prince Xiao Ziwen loved to play the patron of the arts, composing poems and verses, especially showing off in front of beautiful women.

But in Xiao Yang's eyes, watching a bunch of scholars flatter each other was less entertaining than watching stray dogs fight on the roadside!

"Ninth Young Master, my master said that if you are willing to attend the Lanting Poetry Gathering, he will immediately give you the promised Yue Wu's Art of War. Otherwise, it will be delayed for half a year or more..." Qiu Ya added.

Xiao Yang frowned upon hearing this.

This Yue Wu's Art of War was also a precious Spirit Grade treasure, left behind by the famous general Yue Wu from five hundred years ago.

It was said that mastering the military strategies within it would allow one to dominate a region and contend for the Central Plains.

Although Xiao Yang had no use for it, it would be a timely gift for Ning Hongye, who was preparing to raise an army in rebellion.

Its value far surpassed any divine weapon or sharp blade.

"Fine, I'll go!"

Xiao Yang accepted the invitation.

Just then, Qiu Ya seemed to remember something and spoke again: "Oh, Ninth Young Master, at tonight's poetry gathering, the number one beauty of the Four Prefectures of the Northern Territory will also be attending!"

If you find this book enjoyable, to avoid losing track of it next time, please remember to add it to your bookshelf.