Chapter Thirty-Five: Unwilling to Die

"This youngster wants to enter the Mortal Shedding realm with the invincible intent—what an ambition," someone remarked.

"The Zhao family has always been this way," replied another.

"One must know that what is easily bent is soon broken."

"That’s why Luoyang only hears of the Four Young Lords of the Zhao family, but not the Four Young Lords of the Li family," someone said, their voice falling silent.

Zhao Yuzhou stood alone at the center of Jade Cliff Platform, surrounded by murmurs, yet no one dared approach him.

"So, will the spot for the Longevity Garden go to the Zhao family once again?" Chen Yankun’s voice echoed around.

"Your Li family’s cultivation isn’t much, but when it comes to plotting, one of you counts for several," the old Zhao taunted.

Another voice retorted, "The Li family has always had talents of all kinds," the tone neither warm nor cold.

Chen Yankun’s words set off a commotion. A young man leapt onto the stage, landing opposite Zhao Yuzhou. "Old man, are you making a joke with this Jade Bowl Banquet? Is it decided just like that? Ask everyone present—who would jump out at the start like this idiot and shout for everyone to come fight him? And how many real sects are like those two just now? Not only is their disciples’ cultivation poor, but their brains seem a bit short-circuited too," the youth rattled off.

Chen Yankun wasn’t angered, only smiled. "After all, he’s one of the Four Young Lords of the Zhao family—different from the rest," he said, seemingly in praise, but even Wu Yue could hear the hidden derision.

Zhao Yuzhou, called an idiot, wore a cold expression. He looked at the youth and said icily, "If you defeat me, a spot in the Longevity Garden is yours."

The youth, who had been furious, suddenly grinned. "You said it! Old man, does that count?"

"Haha! That depends on the Emperor and the elders. I have no say," Chen Yankun laughed.

The youth turned to leave, muttering, "I knew none of you old folks are ever honest."

"Stop," Zhao Yuzhou called.

"What?" The youth turned back, face full of disdain.

"I wish to ask you for guidance," Zhao Yuzhou said.

The youth chuckled, "You want to ask? I’m supposed to teach?"

Zhao Yuzhou’s face turned ashen.

"So, the Longevity Garden spot goes to the Zhao family?" Chen Yankun interjected with a grin.

The youth considered and replied reluctantly, "I’ll agree, but give me a moment. I need to settle an old score first. Dealing with you isn’t difficult, but if I lose to my nemesis by a hair, that would be a shame."

"Then we’ll wait," Zhao Yuzhou replied.

"If you’ve got any enemies, better fight them now—otherwise, when you lose to me, you’ll regret it for life, never able to avenge yourself. My hands are stained with corpses," the youth said offhandedly.

Arrogant! The old Zhao’s face darkened. As the saying goes, an enemy’s enemy is a friend. Beside him, the old Li chuckled, "Ah, today’s young people."

Wu Yue watched the two at the center of Jade Cliff Platform, listening to the elders’ comments behind. He wondered when he too could stand at the heart of the stage, in the spotlight. What young man doesn’t wish to be bold and heroic?

It was as if heaven heard Wu Yue’s longing.

Zhao Yuzhou declared, "Anyone else who dislikes me, step forth—I await you. If not, I must seek vengeance. Wu Yue of Departure Mountain, you killed my younger brother. Today is your death day."

The banquet scene was orderly, but the Luoyang city broadcast became chaotic. Wu Yue’s name had recently become prominent in Luoyang, even used at times to hush crying children at night. He had killed a princess, a Zhao family heir, a Yao family heir... Rumors claimed he slew tens of thousands of Senluo soldiers, hundreds of Telesians, and even several palace guardians. In the end, the palace had to make peace with him... At least, that’s how the rumors went. At this moment, a certain innkeeper shouted, "That’s my brother, my brother!" but was swallowed up by the crowd, ignored.

At the front, Chen Ruifeng’s expression was cold as he looked at the Zhao family’s leader. "What is the Zhao family playing at?" he asked.

The middle-aged man replied quietly, "Nothing. A life for a life."

Chen Ruifeng’s face changed repeatedly. Things were clearly not so simple. His heart was unsettled.

Wu Yue was bewildered, but Zhao Yuzhou’s undisguised murderous glare pierced the crowd and found him.

"Good lad, if you deal with this Zhao brat for me, I’ll guarantee your safety," someone said behind him.

Before Wu Yue could respond, he felt a powerful force push him, and he landed in the center of Jade Cliff Platform.

The first youth to appear saw Wu Yue and remarked, "Looks like my help isn’t needed. Your vengeance will likely go unfulfilled."

"Is that so?" Zhao Yuzhou looked at Wu Yue, cold-blooded intent clear.

Wu Yue wanted to retort, but words failed him.

"Go on, brother, do your best!" The youth laughed, "My name’s Du Tai. Defeat him, and I’ll buy you a drink." Without waiting for a reply, he strode away, not back to his seat but to a spot further off.

Wu Yue sighed—not with fear, but with regret. It felt wasteful to die so easily.

"You may strike first," Zhao Yuzhou said coolly, his killing intent deepened. He was offended that Du Tai had given Wu Yue his name but not him, leaving Zhao Yuzhou feeling slighted.

Wu Yue wanted to attack but realized he had no moves left. Thinking carefully, he remembered only two techniques: "Seventeen-Year Cicada" and "A Fei’s Swift Sword."

"Is it wise to use my strongest move right away?" Wu Yue wondered. "But I have no choice."

A cicada’s song rang out. Many cicadas sang.

Zhao Yuzhou, unmoving, turned pale. The cicada’s song was like countless tiny blades slicing his spirit, churning in his mind, threatening to explode.

Du Tai’s eyes lit up. He murmured, "Now this is real fighting." Even Chen Yankun showed surprise. "Divine sense techniques are rare and fated—didn’t expect to see one here."

The world seemed empty, nothing left but the relentless and intensifying cicada song. Zhao Yuzhou’s face twisted in agony. He growled, "I must not lose." Drawing his sword, he spat blood onto the blade. The sword seemed to gain life, soaring skyward, unleashing streams of sword energy. The sword energy glittered like frost, but most were far from Wu Yue.

Wu Yue, on the other hand, seemed even more battered—standing with eyes shut, face pale as death. Blood seeped from his ears.

Zhao Yuzhou clenched his fists, veins bulging, his body trembling, sweat mixed with blood pouring down.

The sword energy drew closer, nearly striking Wu Yue. His face turned ghostly, blood now trickling from his eyes, lips, and nostrils. His body swayed.

Wu Yue’s consciousness blurred. The Seventeen-Year Cicada was a deadly weapon against weaker foes, but when matched with an equal, it harmed both sides. This time, Zhao Yuzhou’s realm surpassed his own. He had no second consciousness to bear the weakness. Still, Wu Yue thought, "I must not die."

Far away, at Departure Mountain, a small earthquake struck. Jiang Ruhai opened his door, muttering, "Seems I should plant a row of cabbages under cover of night." Chen Shujian stood at his door, with Xue Xiaoyu behind him.

Xue Xiaoyu smiled, "Good evening, Master."

Jiang Ruhai smiled back, "Good evening."