Chapter Thirty-Four: Young Master Zhao's Cutting Words

The Jade Bowl Banquet had begun.

“I am Zhao Yuzhou. Allow me to cast the first brick to invite your precious jade,” he declared, his figure illuminated by moonlight, appearing almost celestial. Yet, it was clear this brick was a heavy one; the atmosphere grew awkwardly silent. There were many sons in the Zhao family, but only four principal heirs, and he was one—Zhao Yuzhou, the second of the Four Great Sons, known as Zhao Er. Though barely sixty years old, his cultivation had already reached the stage of Divine Formation.

Such a man ought to naturally occupy one of the Zhao family’s slots for the Longevity Garden. Wu Yue paused, quickly realizing that the Zhao family sought more slots and would naturally send their aces. There were advantages: a greater chance at more positions. But the drawbacks were obvious—when striving for fortune, others cared not for your status or reputation.

Still, he was young. Zhao Er wanted to stand above the crowd, but his handsome appearance alone was not enough.

At that moment, another figure descended to the center of the Jade Bowl Banquet—a woman. A true heroine, not to be outdone by men. In various live broadcast points across Luoyang City, excitement surged, though the debate turned to how a woman had come forward. Where were all the men?

“Ren Ruyi of Dragon Snow Mountain comes to learn. May those beneath great names prove themselves worthy,” the woman said softly. In the moonlight, clad in white, her appearance was already striking, now made even more so. As soon as she appeared, countless admirers gathered around her.

“I have long heard Dragon Snow Mountain has remained aloof from worldly affairs. Now that fate brings us together, I will do my utmost for the honor of this Jade Bowl event,” Zhao Yuzhou replied with a smile.

“Naturally,” she answered.

They exchanged bows. Zhao Yuzhou was gracious, not rushing to strike first. Wu Yue held his breath, for his own combat experience was scant. Sometimes, he wondered if without his second consciousness, he would still be so highly regarded; he felt he was overrated, an uncomfortable sensation.

And then, the battle began.

Ren Ruyi flicked her slender hand, conjuring two snow-white dragons that circled and roared. She pointed lightly at Zhao Yuzhou, and both dragons charged at him—beauty and grandeur combined. The audience watching the broadcast erupted, the scene captivating and stirring.

Zhao Yuzhou faced the oncoming dragons without retreat. The sound of his sword rang out as he wielded a long blade wreathed in green light. Compared to the massive dragons, his figure seemed diminutive, yet this small aura of green light proved impenetrable to the beasts.

“I see that girl has mastered the Twin Snow Dragon imprint, Dragon Snow Mountain’s signature skill. The Dragon Snow Sect has been silent for a century, and now produces such a genius!” someone remarked.

“Zhao Er is no less impressive. The Zhao family’s Five Elements Bluewood Sword Technique is nearly perfected. These young ones are truly formidable.”

“Formidable, my foot. All show, no substance. When I was young—even if my cultivation was lower—I’d have handled them easily.”

Laughter and banter followed.

These remarks came from a group behind Wu Yue, voices unhidden, falling clearly into his ears. Wu Yue shamelessly eavesdropped, knowing his own lack of experience. Even with Bai Chengxue’s twenty years of knowledge, it was all theoretical. Much remained mysterious to him, which was why he ventured out.

Just then, Zhao Yuzhou cleaved one dragon with a sword, shattering its massive form into mist. Though everyone knew it was merely spiritual energy, the sight made their blood surge.

Yet the old man who’d scoffed earlier was quick to criticize: “That move was far too abrupt. Why suddenly use the Single Cleave of the Heavenly River? Destroying one dragon is pointless—just a waste of spiritual effort.” His anger mounted. “A cultivator uses sword techniques to deepen understanding of sword intent and realm.”

“Yet later generations lose the essence for the superficial,” another elder added calmly.

Wu Yue silently memorized these words, knowing their value was beyond gold.

At that moment, Zhao Yuzhou dodged a dragon’s claw, twisted, and landed atop its head. He declared loudly, “Dragon Snow Mountain’s spells are truly mediocre.” With that, he stabbed the dragon’s head, and it disintegrated.

Ren Ruyi ignored Zhao Yuzhou’s arrogance, her fingers dancing in the air. Snowflakes began to fall from the sky, some tiny as grains, others large as leaves—a fierce killing intent.

“Now this is a proper cultivator’s duel. The earlier exchange was no different from common martial artists,” the old Zhao grumbled.

Zhao Yuzhou sheathed his sword, catching a snowflake. Watching Ren Ruyi hastily forming seals, he spoke softly, almost pitying: “If Dragon Snow Sect ignores the world for another two centuries, it’ll be erased from history.” He flung the snowflake from his hand.

Hundreds of sword lights erupted, piercing moonlight, sky, and snow. Ren Ruyi’s expression changed dramatically, left helpless.

“Successors surpass their predecessors,” Zhao old man commented.

“You shameless old dog,” someone retorted.

Wu Yue remained silent, reflecting that age truly meant nothing.

The sword lights vanished before Ren Ruyi, leaving her unharmed except for the backlash from unfinished spells. Yet she stood stunned, muttering, “Master said I could win fame among the immortals…”

Wu Yue sighed. To him, the woman’s cultivation rivaled Zhao Yuzhou’s, but her combat experience was sorely lacking.

Whether by nature or intention, Zhao Yuzhou remarked, “Dragon Snow Mountain is mediocre. I imagine the other sects are much the same. A pity.” His words rang clear across the banquet, transmitted to every corner of Luoyang. The city was abuzz—some called him arrogant, others admired his spirit. Ren Ruyi remained pale, rooted to the spot.

“Bullying a weak woman is no feat! He Zhengchao of Wind and Snow Sect comes to challenge Zhao Er,” a voice called.

“It’s hardly Daoist skill, just some basic moves,” Zhao Yuzhou replied coolly. “I’ve heard Wind and Snow Mountain and Dragon Snow Sect are close allies. Now it’s clear—their disciples are equally unimpressive.”

He Zhengchao, leader of his generation in Wind and Snow Sect, was furious at such disdain. He abandoned all decorum, preparing to strike. Yet Zhao Yuzhou punched from afar; He Zhengchao spat blood several times, then fell unconscious as sword light flashed.

“To call them unimpressive is putting it politely,” Zhao Yuzhou said.

“There’s little to watch. At least that girl from Dragon Snow Mountain achieved Divine Formation on her own. The boy behind her only managed it with sect support. Zhao Er has attained self-realization, and is a hair’s breadth from transcending the mortal realm. These two bouts were utterly dull.”

“Sectarians who ignore the world are doomed to extinction,” the old Zhao declared coldly.

“Sects like these shouldn’t even come to the Jade Bowl Banquet. Forget the Longevity Garden—they only disgrace themselves,” Zhao Yuzhou mocked.

The Dragon Snow Mountain, Wind and Snow Sect, and other factions were in uproar, but none dared step forward.

Wu Yue heard all, and two emotions stirred within him.

Zhao Yuzhou was right.

But what about himself? For a moment, he was lost.