At that moment, Xiao Yuxuan, standing in the center of the grounds, seemed to find the praise of those few good-for-nothings insufficiently satisfying. He straightened the collar of his brocade martial attire, turned around, and called toward the parasol tree nearby with a broad smile:
"Wanqing! Wanqing, look! How was that palm technique your husband just performed?"
Chen Xuan's hands paused slightly around the tea tray, and he cast a sidelong glance toward the voice.
Beneath a century-old parasol tree on the eastern side of the training grounds stood a wicker chair draped in plain silk.
The heir's wife, Su Wanqing, sat quietly in the shade, dressed in white that surpassed snow. Her long black hair was pinned up with nothing but an elegant, unadorned mutton-fat jade hairpin. Her brows and eyes resembled distant mountains brushed with dark pigment, her skin was so fair it seemed to shine through, and her phoenix eyes naturally held a cool, ethereal air that kept others a thousand miles away.
Hearing Xiao Yuxuan loudly solicit praise, Su Wanqing did not even pause the slender fingers turning her book's pages. Only after her maid Jinshu quietly reminded her did she slowly lift her eyes and cast an indifferent glance at Xiao Yuxuan across half the training grounds.
"Mm, not bad."
Her red lips parted slightly, releasing only those three words, her tone as flat as a pool of stagnant water without a ripple.
Then she lowered her lashes again, returning her gaze to the ancient book in her hands, as though even one more glance at Xiao Yuxuan would be a waste of time.
"Pfft..." Fatty Wang, who had been flattering him nearby, could not stop a little sound from escaping, then hastily clamped his hand over his mouth in fright.
The smug smile on Xiao Yuxuan's face instantly froze. The corner of his mouth twitched hard twice, and his fair face alternated between green and white.
"Cousin, your wife has always been reserved. For her to say 'not bad' is tremendous praise!" The sharp-mouthed, monkey-cheeked young master hurried forward to smooth things over. "She's concerned about you, cousin. She's afraid you'll tire yourself out!"
"Shut up! Who asked you to stick your nose in? My wife and I share a deep marital bond. What the hell do you know?" Xiao Yuxuan snarled, his embarrassment turning to anger. He shoved the young master aside and turned back toward the stunning figure beneath the parasol tree, a morbid resentment and agitation rising in his eyes.
He took two steps forward and abruptly raised his voice, practically shouting, "Wanqing! That was only ordinary, rudimentary martial arts, unworthy of your notice! Put down your book and watch carefully. Your husband will now demonstrate the Eight Desolations Prison-Suppressing Yang Gang, the exclusive supreme art of the legitimate line of our Marquis of Zhenbei's Residence!"
He deliberately placed heavy emphasis on "the exclusive supreme art of the residence's legitimate line," his voice echoing over the training grounds:
"Wasn't Father merely praising my second brother Xiao Yuting in his study last night for reaching minor accomplishment in this art?! Hmph, what does someone from the second branch amount to? I am the rightful heir to this residence! Watch, Wanqing. I can cultivate this supreme art to its very pinnacle too!"
Beside the stone table, Chen Xuan abruptly stopped wiping the rim of a cup.
"Hiss... Old Sun, did I hear that right?" Lowering his voice, Chen Xuan feigned shock as he asked the old servant beside him, "Did the young lord just say 'Eight Desolations Prison-Suppressing Yang Gang'? The same domineering divine art our marquis used in his youth on the Northern Frontier battlefield to smash half a barbarian ironstone city wall down with one punch?"
"That's the very art! Keep your voice down!" Old Sun glanced around in fright, clicking his tongue as he hushed his voice. "That's our residence's ultimate killing art, passed to sons but not daughters, to the legitimate line but not the concubine-born! They say that at its higher levels, all your blood and Qi turn into blazing-sun Yang Gang. Touch it and you die, brush against it and you perish, and everything burns wherever it passes! Normally, the masters all practice it secretly in secluded chambers. Today, just to win back some pride before his wife, the young lord has actually brought it out in public!"
Chen Xuan's heart pounded wildly as he listened, and even his breathing instantly grew a little heavier.
The core killing art of the Marquis of Zhenbei's Residence!
The Boulder Art he currently relied on to secure his place was merely a rudimentary external art found everywhere in the residence, with a ceiling of An Jin at most. But this Eight Desolations Prison-Suppressing Yang Gang was a supreme path leading straight to Hua Jin and even the peak of Gang Jin!
"Everyone, move aside! Don't get in the way of my fists and feet!"
In the center of the grounds, Xiao Yuxuan shoved the dandies around him aside and drew a deep breath. He abruptly spread his feet shoulder-width apart and slowly raised his palms before his chest, assuming an ancient, domineering opening stance.
"Wanqing, watch carefully!"
Every vein in Xiao Yuxuan's neck bulged, and his face flushed crimson as he desperately drove the meager blood and Qi he had piled up through pills.
"Hah!"
A furious shout that exhausted all his strength.
Xiao Yuxuan twisted his waist and drove his shoulder forward, thrusting his right palm out with a current of scorching air-
Boom!
A weak yet distinctly explosive force burst from his palm, sweeping up a layer of loose dust from the ground. A bluestone lantern three paces away swayed slightly as the force struck it. A drop of lamp oil splashed from its bowl and pattered onto the bluestone paving, spreading into a dark yellow blossom of oil.
"Excellent! Your divine might is unrivaled, young lord!"
"So this is the residence's supreme art, the Eight Desolations Prison-Suppressing Yang Gang? Even from so far away, I felt hot all over. I nearly fell to my knees before you, young lord!"
The young dandies clapped and cheered with all their might, applauding until their palms turned red.
Using the posture of bending over to refill the tea as cover, Chen Xuan stared fixedly at the drop of lamp oil splashed across the bluestone paving, then glanced along the path of Xiao Yuxuan's withdrawing palm, inwardly shaking his head. That's it? All thunder and little rain. He couldn't even shatter a stone lantern three paces away. Is this good-for-nothing heir practicing some sham technique? His force is scattered, his blood and Qi float on the surface, and he's relying entirely on the art's inherent dominance to keep up appearances.
As he silently assessed it, he glanced toward the parasol tree out of the corner of his eye.
Beneath the parasol tree, Jinshu whispered, "Miss, the young lord performed especially for you. Why not offer him another word or two of praise? Otherwise, he won't be able to get off the stage gracefully and will go complain to the first madam again later."
Su Wanqing sighed softly and raised her cool phoenix eyes, quietly glancing at Xiao Yuxuan as he panted in the grounds.
There was no anger in that gaze, no jealousy, not even a trace of contempt-as though she were looking at a piece of inferior porcelain left in the corner of a desk, covered in dust, that had long since lost any value as something to admire or handle.
"Jinshu, don't you think someone who cannot even see how many pounds and ounces he weighs, who lives in a dream all day sustained by other people's flattery, is rather pitiful?" Su Wanqing spoke so softly that only mistress and maid could hear.
"Mind your words, miss..." Jinshu shrank back in fright.
Su Wanqing's expression returned to indifference. She gave a slight nod toward the center of the grounds, her voice clear and gentle, without the slightest audible emotion. "Mm, young lord, today's palm strike has improved again since last month."