Chapter 72: Are You Really My Uncle?

Watching the agents’ faces alight with excitement, Le Xiaotian could only sigh inwardly. After all, when fate-changing opportunities stood before them, with a potential audience of two billion across Fama, how could they not be anxious?

He smiled, then jumped down from the car roof. Preparations for the performance had only just begun; much remained to be done. As Le Xiaotian strode toward the broad northern staircase known as the Eighty-Eight Pearls, the crowd gradually fell silent, their gazes converging upon him.

When his foot landed on the first step, the agents’ hearts trembled.

“Sir!” Anxious voices rang out; the agents wore expressions of palpable tension.

A few elite soldiers rushed forward, attempting to intervene, but Le Xiaotian didn’t even glance back—he simply waved his right hand behind him.

Now, Le Xiaotian was not only the undisputed leader of the combat performance “Victory,” but he also held supreme military authority. Thus, neither agents nor elite soldiers dared defy his orders; they could only wait, nerves taut.

As Le Xiaotian ascended the eighty-eight steps to the first platform, more than a hundred prisoners stationed on the second platform found their legs weak with fear. They hadn’t always been so intimidated—this change came after spending time with him.

During his first battle, he had single-handedly faced a hundred opponents, killing the mighty Elephant and breaking open the northern pass of the Eighty-Eight Pearls staircase. Back then, Zhang Haofang’s warriors had only regarded him with caution, not fear.

But that quickly changed. They learned from Zhang Hao himself that it was Le Xiaotian who had dueled him at long range with rifles that day—firing back and forth from low to high ground, across several kilometers, with uncanny speed and strength. Even the impregnable Star-Town Tower had shaken at the impact.

One hand! His left hand! My god!

He was that mysterious legend!

Hardly resting before reaching the staircase, he nonetheless managed to slay the Elephant. Even Zhang Hao had personally warned his men to be wary—just how formidable was this man?

Three days later, Zhang Hao himself slew the woman surnamed Su, issuing a challenge to Le Xiaotian. Xiao Qiu, who had dared to talk back, was killed on the spot with a single blow through the throat; death could not have been more final.

That night, Le Xiaotian gave a performance that could only be described as divine—an advance rendition of “Victory,” which the others were scheduled to perform in fifteen days. He then set the entire illusion aflame with his energy.

During rehearsals, he could pick out, from among tens of thousands, exactly who was chattering—his hearing was nothing short of supernatural.

He was a prodigy destined to become a master conductor of the grandest stage.

Now he was coming up—why? Oh please, Teacher Xiaotian, can’t you wait a few more days before fighting? I’m terrified.

As agents’ scalps tingled and knees trembled, Le Xiaotian halted on the first platform. Lifting a megaphone, he called out toward the three-hundred-meter-high Star-Town Tower: “Zhang Hao! Zhang Hao!”

After several calls, Zhang Hao, who was training furiously in the battle zone on the fifty-second floor, heard him. He took a loudspeaker from one of his subordinates and replied with a sneer, “What’s wrong? Can’t complete the performance?”

Le Xiaotian’s lips curled into a smile. He shouted, “Just because you can’t do it doesn’t mean I can’t. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed again. Fifteen days from now, as ‘Victory’ resounds, I’ll snap your neck. Oh, and Winteber—pass that along to him for me.”

Their conversation paused for a moment, and a hush fell over the world.

After a moment, Zhang Hao laughed. “I look forward to it. But what do you want right now?”

Le Xiaotian stated his purpose. “Since you want to face me head-on, I need information on the masters who hold the Eighty-Eight Pearls platforms in all four directions. Otherwise, if you lost and couldn’t take it, I wouldn’t even want to kill you—it would dirty my hands.”

Zhang Hao burst into laughter. “So compassionate, with the world in your heart—you’re truly worthy to be conductor, and to cross swords with me. Fine, I agree. You may collect information on the remaining eighty-seven platform masters in the northern staircase. As for the southern, eastern, and western masters, that must remain secret for now.”

If the northern Eighty-Eight Pearls staircase could be conquered, they could ascend the Star-Town Tower to kill Zhang Hao and Winteber, and Xiaofang could unlock the advanced three-star dance instrument, the Crystal Violin.

To include all four quadrants was simply Negotiation 101: always ask for more than you expect to receive.

So Le Xiaotian shouted into the megaphone one last time, “I hope you break through your limits in the next fifteen days—then you might survive a few minutes longer.”

Zhang Hao laughed wildly. “Haha! Most people gain confidence through talent, but you are born with confidence and extraordinary talent. I truly look forward to the moment we clash.”

The negotiation was concluded.

Le Xiaotian sent several dozen agents to the platform to have the eighty-seven platform masters identified and their information gathered. These agents, though trembling with fear, went to carry out their mission.

Though these platform masters were ruthless enough to kill the agents, they did not act. First, because if they did, Le Xiaotian would immediately attack and the chaos would erupt ahead of schedule. Second, because if the duel between Le Xiaotian and Zhang Hao was disrupted, Zhang Hao would eliminate them himself.

As the agents collected information, in the crowd, Bi Muyang—his face twisted—grew restless. Through gritted teeth, he muttered to Qin Bufan, “Uncle, didn’t the Empress order us to capture Zhang Hao alive? Why not use this chance to—” He drew a finger sharply across his throat.

Qin Bufan glanced at Le Xiaotian’s distant figure, then turned back with a sigh. “Muyang, Zhang Hao is right. Le Xiaotian is a born conductor—everything in the world is his instrument. Forget the Empress’s orders; even if she came herself, he’d never bow his head. Neither he nor Zhang Hao would allow anyone to interfere in their fight. Do you really want our whole family destroyed?”

Bi Muyang’s fists clenched, joints cracking. “But he just humiliated me in front of everyone again!”

Qin Bufan shook his head, his tone earnest. “He’s worth bowing to. We don’t have the power to destroy him, so don’t provoke him. You think he acts without reason, but he’s testing whether you’re a threat. He’s a genius who creates order from chaos. If you can’t see that, it’s because your vision is too narrow.”

Seeing his advice had little effect, Qin Bufan continued, “Do your job well—after this, a promotion is the least you’ll get. I know you’re mostly upset that Chen Fang became his woman. But really, you’re just fighting with yourself. With your advantages, is finding a woman truly a problem?”

Realizing his thoughts had been laid bare, Bi Muyang stopped hiding. “I just refuse to accept it—why should I bow to him?”

Qin Bufan’s expression hardened. “Why? He’s younger than you, better looking, stronger, more skilled, more charismatic, more talented, richer, and now, even more powerful. Besides, Chen Fang has never paid you any attention; she loves him. So why do you think you can compare?”

Bi Muyang felt as though he might cough blood.

Uncle, am I really my mother’s son?