The Heir Apparent

The heavy, swirling snow fell all night, turning Yujing City into a world of white, truly resembling the White Jade Capital of the heavens.

Dream Immortal Tower was one of the largest restaurants in Yujing City.

It was composed of a five-story main building flanked by four four-story wings.

The layered, upturned eaves created a sense of steepness, and the building, standing over sixty meters tall, loomed with a majestic presence like a sharp sword thrusting straight into the clouds.

The faint sound of strings and bamboo, the melodic singing, and the boisterous laughter all mingled together—this was the very heart of worldly prosperity.

The restaurant's patrons were either wealthy or noble; common folk dared not even approach.

Though ordinary families and the wealthy lived in the same Yujing, they seemed to exist in two different worlds.

The tables on the third floor were spaced quite far apart and separated by flowers and plants, creating an atmosphere that was neither cold nor lacking in seclusion—a truly ingenious design.

At one table sat six old men, each draped in brocade robes and jade belts, radiating an air of wealth and refinement as they drank and talked loudly.

"Old Lu, did you hear the thunder yesterday?"

"I'm not deaf. It startled me wide awake; it was truly terrifying."

"Heh heh, then do you know why there was such a loud clap of thunder, Old Lu?"

"I'm puzzled myself. It was snowing yesterday, not raining. Where would such loud thunder come from in the dead of winter? Could there be some grave injustice?"

"Haha..."

"What's so funny about that?"

"Oh, Old Lu, you really are too ill-informed."

"Stop the chatter and just tell me!"

"A new Grandmaster has emerged!"

"Hm—?"

"Alright, Old Huang, Old Lu hasn't been in the capital long, so it's no surprise he doesn't know. It was the Flying Flower Sword Sect that produced a Grandmaster, right?"

"Indeed, Song Feiqiong of the Flying Flower Sword Sect."

"A woman?"

"The third female Grandmaster of our Great Jing Dynasty... You all hadn't entered the capital yet when Song Feiqiong first made a name for herself. She appeared like a fleeting glimpse of a wild goose, and then few heard of her again. Who would have thought that after decades of silence, she would shock everyone by achieving the rank of Grandmaster!"

"Old Huang, how old is this Grandmaster Song?"

"The same age as me."

"Fifty-nine?"

"Yes."

"A Grandmaster... The Flying Flower Sword Sect has truly struck gold!"

"When one person attains the Dao, even their chickens and dogs ascend to heaven. With a Grandmaster, the disciples of the Flying Flower Sword Sect can now serve in the imperial court and join the Town Martial Division."

"That is the dream of so many sects."

"Once they enter the court, they have the opportunity to perform meritorious service, and those merits can be exchanged for Miraculous Pills and Elixirs and all sorts of rare treasures. That third-rate Flying Flower Sword Sect will leap to become a first-rate power; it really makes one green with envy!"

"Who can blame them? Grandmasters are hard to come by. There are only eighteen in our Great Jing Dynasty, and every single one is precious!"

"There is another piece of major news. Has everyone heard that Prince Qing's Estate has been unsealed?"

"Prince Qing's Estate...?"

The men at the table shook their heads in confusion.

They hadn't even heard of Prince Qing.

"Prince Jing is the Third Prince. Thirty years ago, he committed a crime, and his estate was sealed, with no one allowed in or out."

"I remember now! Thirty years ago... the Second Prince, Prince Jing, was placed under house arrest, and the Third Prince, Prince Qing, pleaded for him, which infuriated the Emperor. He issued a decree to seal Prince Qing's Estate, right?"

"If you aren't an old Yujing native, you wouldn't know about Prince Jing and Prince Qing. That's ancient history!"

"This Prince Qing is also unlucky. He showed brotherly love and pleaded for mercy, yet he ended up suffering the Emperor's wrath and having his estate sealed."

"Prince Qing... when it comes down to it, he didn't have the mettle. His constitution was weak and he couldn't practice martial arts, so he wasn't favored by the Emperor. Others didn't dare to plead for him, but he did, so he was made an example of."

"The current Emperor is the greatest of all the Great Jing monarchs. He possesses peerless talent and places immense importance on cultivation; it's no surprise Prince Qing wasn't favored."

"Unable to practice martial arts... this Prince Qing is truly pitiful."

"The imperial family is the most heartless of all. If one cannot practice martial arts, it would be fine if the Emperor felt pity for the weak, but without that favor, life is likely quite difficult."

"No matter how difficult, he is still a prince."

"A prince is just someone who eats a little better and wears a little better. He still has the seven emotions and six desires, the greed, anger, and ignorance of any man. With so many brothers, there is bound to be fawning over the powerful and trampling on the weak."

"I heard this Prince Qing is actually a very good person."

"In this world, without strong martial arts, being a good person is just asking for death!"

"Indeed... in this world, one truly cannot survive without practicing martial arts."

"Whether Prince Qing's Estate is unsealed or not makes no difference; it is destined to decline."

"Prince Qing's Estate is indeed finished."

Three people sat at a table by the south window, a young man in purple robes holding a wine cup, lost in thought.

The morning sun shone on the window paper, illuminating his handsome face.

His nose was like a suspended gall, his lips like vermilion, and his eyes, bright as cold stars, shimmered with the depth of his contemplation. His demeanor was calm and profound.

To his left sat a burly man, looking for all the world like a crouching Black Bear.

To his right sat an elderly man, clean-shaven and pale, possessing an air of feminine delicacy.

"Damn them..." The burly man stood up abruptly, pointing toward that table, ready to curse.

The young man in purple waved a hand.

"..." The burly man swallowed his words, glaring resentfully at the old men at the other table before sitting down heavily.

The old men at that table continued their loud discussion, oblivious to the anomaly here.

The delicate old man, whose hair was dark and lustrous and whose skin was so fair it seemed to glow with a hidden luster, said softly, "Young Master, consider these street rumors to be nothing more than the buzzing of insects."

The young man in purple shook his head, set down his wine cup, and rose to leave.

The delicate old man picked up the sable fur and cloak to follow.

"Young Master, are you not going to finish eating?"

The burly man looked at the table full of delicacies, sighed with regret, and walked out. As he descended the stairs, he glared once more at the old men who were still chattering away.

If he were still in the army, he wouldn't be able to eat a table of food like this whenever he pleased; it was a waste to leave it because of those old fools!

When the young man in purple reached the entrance of the Dream Immortal Tower, the delicate old man draped the fur hat, wrapped the sable fur, and fastened the red cloak around him before the cold wind could reach him.

His movements were elegant yet incredibly swift.

The young man in purple allowed him to fuss, looking up at the sky with a sense of emotion.

A golden sun hung obliquely, its myriad rays turning the thick white snow on every rooftop into gold—a magnificent and beautiful sight.

The streets were bustling, filled with carriages and horses.

The cries of merchants and street vendors were endless.

Passersby came and went, all with swords or sabers at their waists, looking high-spirited and laughing loudly.

The City Guard, dressed in black robes, patrolled the crowd in groups of three.

What a scene of a prosperous age.

The current Emperor had been on the throne for fifty years, governing with diligence; the Great Jing Dynasty was currently at the height of its splendor, with the country at peace and the people secure.

He withdrew his gaze, stepped out of the Dream Immortal Tower, and slowly merged into the bustling crowd amidst the obsequious farewells of the waiter.

Four young men in brown martial attire gathered around him from nearby, their clothes billowing with an invisible force that pushed away nearby pedestrians, as if they were using the Sticky Clothes Eighteen Falls to construct an independent space.

He walked with his hands behind his back, unhurried and leisurely, his pace completely different from the rushing crowd around him.

His snow-white sable fur was without a single stray hair, the jade pendant at his waist was emerald and crystalline, and the white jade embedded in his fur hat looked as if it had been soaked in water. His entire being radiated elegance and nobility, standing like a white jade tree in the wind.

"Young Master, if you ask me, we should have taught them a lesson. These gossiping fools deserve a beating. How dare they speak nonsense about our Prince?!"

The guard commander, Guo Chi, continued to mutter indignantly.

The young man in purple, Chu Zhiyuan, remained solemn, his inner lake calm and waveless.

The memories of his past life were like drifting clouds; in this life, he was the Young Master of the Third Prince, Prince Qing.

No matter how much Prince Qing's Estate declined, it still provided him with fine clothes and food for a lifetime of luxury, free from the anxiety and haste of his previous life, hence his state of mind was entirely different.

This state of mind allowed him to remain calm and composed amidst the prosperity and noise, strolling as if in a quiet courtyard, completely out of sync with the haste of those around him.

He focused slightly, and his five senses instantly expanded.

In an instant, a flood of information poured into his brain, granting him mastery over everything within a radius of twenty zhang.

Pedestrians moved like a weave.

He perceived every passerby's appearance, clothing, speech, gait, and subtle expressions; the sound of every person's voice, their breathing, their heartbeat, and even the flow of their blood; the scent of every person's clothes and hair; the elasticity of their skin and the strength of their bones; the flow of Internal Energy and the faint luster within every person—all were clearly presented within his perception.

Patrons in the roadside tavern talked and laughed wantonly, while the waiter and the shopkeeper were busy.

The laughter of the drinkers, the sound of them slamming the tables, the sound of wine sliding down throats, the chewing of food, the rumbling of stomachs, the friction of chairs, and the sound of footsteps—every sound entered his ears.

The aroma of the fine wine in the jars and cups, and the scent of the food, filled his nose.

The smoothness and solidity of the tables, the chill of the wine cups and the liquid, the thickness and softness of the clothes, and even the elasticity of skin, all flowed into his palms.

In the rouge shop next to the tavern, the shopkeeper chattered incessantly, and the waiter used a feather duster to sweep the boxes of rouge on the shelves.

Deep in a small alley, two red-clad martial arts experts lay on their sides against the wall, fast asleep, snoring loudly.

A wonton stall was shrouded in rising steam, the scent of meat overflowing.

Next to it was a fried dough cake stall, with waves of fragrance rolling out.

More than twenty people sat huddled around low tables, shoveling food into their mouths in a hurry, their demeanor a stark contrast to the diners at the restaurant nearby.

The air was thick with floating dust and particles, a kaleidoscope of light, hundreds of scents, breezes from every direction, and a cacophony of different sounds.

Within a radius of twenty zhang, he saw everything, heard everything, smelled everything, touched everything, and sensed everything.

This god-like sensation intoxicated him, causing his mindset to shift involuntarily, looking down from on high just as a deity might gaze upon the masses.

Yet, he remained soberly aware that this mindset was inappropriate.

He could perceive the minutiae within his twenty-zhang range with divine clarity, but that was all; he could not dictate the life or death of everything within that space.

This god-like state of mind, entangled with his clear-headed realization, rendered him extremely cold and detached, watching the human world with a frigid eye.

Among the forty-six pedestrians, thirty-three were full of vigor and spirit—Martial Artists. Of those thirty-three, eighteen practiced the sword, and fifteen practiced the blade.

This was the nature of this High Martial World; everyone was like a dragon.

Among these thirty-three, two were cloaked in a layer of radiance, signifying they had stepped into the Innate Realm.

They possessed the ability to kill a Perfected Houtian like himself.

Of course, he alone could see this layer of radiance.

More importantly, these two Xiantian Masters had been employing secret techniques to conceal their auras while tracking him.

In the three days since he had opened his estate, he had come out every day; they had begun following him on the second day, and his guards had yet to notice.

About to enter a new world, my lords, please board the ship.