When Fang Han entered the Reception Hall, he saw a young man in a moon-white robe. His long hair was bound with a jade hairpin, and his handsome face held a steadiness beyond his years.
It was Yue Lingtian.
"Grandmaster Fang."
Noticing Fang Han's arrival, Yue Lingtian hurriedly stood and spoke respectfully.
Though they were of the same generation, and Yue Lingtian was even a little older, their standing was another matter.
As a grandmaster, Fang Han had already entered the ranks of their seniors. His seniority was naturally a step higher.
"No need to be so formal, Brother Yue. Just call me by name."
Fang Han sat in the seat of honor and looked at Yue Lingtian.
"What brings you here this time, Brother Yue?"
"Brother Fang, I've come to deliver a message from the Third Prince."
If the Eighth Prince had not instructed him personally, he would not even have made the trip himself. He would have sent someone else to deliver the message.
"Speed is the greatest problem."
Hum—
In an instant, he shot forward like a bullet, swept past the treetop where he had intended to land, crossed dozens of yards of forest, and stopped only beside a taller ancient tree.
The instant he touched the treetop, he changed direction again and drifted toward the crown of another ancient tree.
Fang Han's voice carried a chill.
With that sudden burst of speed, his shoe left a shallow print in the soft layer of rotting leaves.
If two Top Grandmasters had come for him half a month earlier, they would indeed have posed a difficult problem. Back then, he would have needed to trade injury for injury against just one, let alone two.
He flashed between two closely spaced trunks. His robe brushed past their rough