Chapter Eighty-Three: The Tenth Prince Need Not Observe This Ceremony

Chapter 83: No Need for Such Formalities, Your Highness

“Miss Songran, I trust you’ve been well?” From within the crowd stepped forth a young gentleman. He was dressed in splendid attire, tall and slender in stature, appearing to be no more than eighteen or nineteen years of age.

“It’s you? Why are you spouting such nonsense?” At the sight of this young man, Wu Songran’s brows furrowed instantly. Yet, despite the slender sword in her hand, she didn’t dare strike him.

“Ah! Is that the Tenth Prince? No—His Highness the Tenth Prince now. With Emperor Yang Guang’s whereabouts unknown and the Third Prince ascending the throne, all 101 of Yang Guang’s sons have been granted princely titles!”

Whispers rippled through the crowd. The Great Qian Dynasty allowed for freedom of speech; as long as the discussions weren’t too outrageous, no one interfered, even if they touched upon affairs of state.

The Tenth Prince emerged from the throng, followed closely by several generals clad in shining armor and silver helmets.

“Miss Songran, am I not speaking the truth?” The Tenth Prince showed no sign of reservation, even in the face of Wu Songran’s illustrious background.

Now that the Prince of Wuwei was dead, the prestige of his household had waned, no longer casting the intimidating shadow it once did. In earlier days, the Tenth Prince would never have dared to act so brazenly.

“Hmph—” Wu Hong, standing nearby, let out a cold snort. The very sound rippled through the air, and the Tenth Prince’s face paled at once.

“Wu Hong, don’t be so arrogant! This is the imperial capital, and you’re a wanted criminal! With a single shout from me, you’ll be doomed beyond redemption!”

The Tenth Prince knew Wu Hong had just sent a jolt through him by channeling his inner force. His spirit was still trembling, but as a prince, he could not show weakness before someone he considered an enemy of the realm.

“Ran-mei, step back. Let me handle this. I, Wu Hong, keep my word! Until the truth is made plain to the world, if anyone dares slander me or my family, this is the fate they’ll face!”

Having said this, Wu Hong strode step by step toward the prince.

He released all his inner energy, forming a unique field around him. With each step toward the prince, the prince’s heart quaked anew.

“What are you trying to do, Wu Hong? If you dare harm me, my royal brother will never let you set foot in the capital again!”

The Tenth Prince was under immense psychological pressure. To his eyes, Wu Hong’s figure had grown impossibly tall and imposing. With every step Wu Hong took, his own heart trembled—a mortal’s awe before a celestial presence.

With a sharp sound, the armored guards drew their blades in unison, blocking the way before the Tenth Prince. Their bodies trembled, clearly absorbing much of the pressure meant for him.

Wu Hong’s power was extraordinary—he could match the combined inner strength of dozens of top-level martial artists. His “Great Sun Tathagata” energy had become solidified, unmatched in all of history.

For the Tenth Prince to seek trouble at such a moment when Wu Hong was in a complicated mood—was it not courting death?

The three armored guards were all of the highest caliber, having reached the mid-stage marrow-refining realm.

To serve as a prince’s guard was an incomparable honor. Yet, as Wu Hong approached, their bodies shuddered as if faced with the very heavens and earth, not a mere mortal.

Wu Hong smiled faintly. “You have a difficult duty. Step aside. I have no intention of harming your prince.”

The three guards tensed, their blades trembling in their hands.

Seizing the moment, Wu Hong surged his energy even further, focusing his power on the Tenth Prince and his guards. To everyone else, it was merely the air of an extraordinary man.

Such was the marvel of the Great Sun Tathagata’s true force—nineteen forms of perfect control, as subtle and precise as a skilled butcher dividing an ox.

His mastery of this energy, especially after reaching the marrow-refining stage, had attained a truly exceptional level, though he’d never before had a suitable subject to test it on.

Today, the Tenth Prince, having come seeking trouble, became the perfect experiment. Like a tidal wave, the pressure bore down on them.

With a thud, one of the guards dropped to one knee, his blade planted in the earth, sweat beading on his brow.

“My lord, this man cannot be bested. You must flee!” croaked the guard, his voice hoarse and strained.

As this guard collapsed, the pressure on the Tenth Prince only grew, heavy as mountains and seas. His knees shook violently.

He cursed inwardly: “Do you think I don’t want to run? My limbs simply won’t obey!”

Among the younger generation, the Tenth Prince was considered outstanding, having reached the bone-refining realm—a remarkable feat. He’d long harbored resentment at hearing tales of Wu Hong’s sudden renown, dismissing them as exaggerations of the martial world.

Today, upon glimpsing Wu Songran in the street, accompanied by a strange man, he quickly deduced that this must be Wu Hong—the infamous heir accused of patricide.

Thus, he could not resist voicing his contempt. Yet now, he and his three guards were nearly forced to their knees by Wu Hong’s overwhelming presence.

The prince’s knees shook, and though he wished to bow, some mountainous force held him upright.

Wu Hong advanced further, his steps echoing. Two of the three guards were already on one knee, while the third, though still standing, could barely steady his trembling blade—hardly a threat.

The scene was bizarre: Wu Hong’s confrontation with the prince and his guards was utterly incomprehensible to bystanders, including Li Ruolan and Wu Songran.

No one had ever heard of someone using inner force to form a thread, targeting specific individuals so precisely. Such a technique was unheard of, let alone witnessed.

Suddenly, one of the standing guards dropped his blade with a clang, his face paling.

“Brother, you mustn’t be so agitated. Hold your blade steady if you wish to protect your master,” Wu Hong said with a gentle smile, stooping to retrieve the fallen weapon and pressing it back into the guard’s hand.

“Are the prince’s guards cowards? How could they let an outsider walk right up to His Highness and drop their swords?” voices muttered among the crowd.

“Honestly, I’d do a better job as a guard myself!”

To the onlookers, Wu Hong seemed merely a man of remarkable demeanor—they could not fathom the invisible pressure he was exerting.

Wu Hong, still smiling, walked past the three guards. Instantly, they felt the crushing weight lift from their shoulders. Sweat drenched their clothes as their limbs gave way, leaving them sitting on the ground in disarray.

“Good grief, those guards have no backbone! Wu Hong may be impressive, but this is absurd!”

“Tell me, Your Highness, why are you silent now? My brother stands before you—why don’t you reveal his crimes to the world?” Wu Songran laughed, now understanding Wu Hong’s trick, though she cared little for the details.

The Tenth Prince could not even open his mouth. Any attempt to speak only forced a torrent of molten energy into his throat and gut. His face ashen, gone was all composure; he paid no heed to Wu Songran’s mockery, consumed by fear for his own life. Wu Hong was, by all accounts, a ruthless man.

He bitterly regretted his earlier bravado.

Suddenly, the force pinning his knees eased, and his legs buckled, threatening to drop him to his knees. Humiliated, he cursed Wu Hong silently—when strong arms caught him, steadying his body. The prince was overjoyed, only to be stunned when he looked up and saw who it was.

Wu Hong smiled gently. “Your Highness, there’s no need for such formalities upon our first meeting.”

He supported the prince’s body with both arms, his face a mask of geniality.