Chapter 38: The Wild and Unrestrained Beauty

By Wei Po Tian’s side, a group of noble ladies constantly followed him, and unless he was discussing serious matters with men, those young misses would never allow him to be alone with any woman. Shi Dongqi wanted to invite Wei Po Tian to a celebratory dinner under the pretense of honoring his achievements, but such a plan was impossible to conceal from them.

As Song Zining predicted, in just a moment, each of the noble ladies decided to host a celebratory banquet. However, there was only one Wei Shizi, so the situation changed: everyone would co-host the dinner, but Wei Po Tian would be the sole guest.

Song Zining dragged Qian Ye to stand at a distance, watching as the noble ladies chattered around Wei Po Tian, discussing what wine to drink, what dishes to serve, and which dances to select for the celebratory banquet.

Qian Ye suddenly recalled Wei Po Tian’s bold claim about being surrounded by a houseful of customers and a single girl, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing, leading to a subtle ache in his stomach.

Song Zining’s tactic of redirecting the trouble was very effective. All the noble ladies lost interest in the military cleanup after the battle and focused their attention on the evening’s main event, the banquet.

However, reality seldom goes as planned. Just as Qian Ye breathed a sigh of relief, another problem arose, one that was more troublesome than all the young misses combined.

The fierce woman who had blasted Dong Qifeng’s flagship appeared suddenly before Qian Ye, saying she wanted to talk to him privately. Up close, her dazzling beauty was even more stunning, like blinding sunlight; even before he could see her features clearly, he was already captivated.

But the enormous hand cannon she twirled in her hand added an undeniable layer of danger to the idea of a “private talk.”

Under her sharp gaze, Song Zining turned and walked away without a word. Qian Ye couldn’t help but curse inwardly, feeling that Wei Po Tian’s criticisms of Song Zining were not entirely baseless.

“Let me arrange a meeting room,” Qian Ye said, gritting his teeth.

The beautiful woman impatiently replied, “Just go to your room, why all this fuss?”

Startled, Qian Ye responded, “This… isn’t it a bit inappropriate?”

“Cut the nonsense! I don’t care, why are you, a little boy, being so prudish?”

Little… boy, Qian Ye looked at the woman, who was perhaps two or three years older than him, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his forehead. As she spoke, she brandished the astonishingly large hand cannon, the muzzle never straying far from Qian Ye.

The cannon’s barrel, close enough to touch, was almost as thick as a wheeled artillery piece. Could this really be fired by hand? Even Qian Ye, with a body as strong as a dark warlord, couldn’t help but doubt it.

The scene of her blasting the airship still fresh in his mind, Qian Ye felt that getting hit by a single shot would likely have a similar outcome.

Suddenly, a small, unremarkable emblem caught Qian Ye’s eye. It was the family crest of the Yan Yun Zhao clan, possibly a branch symbol with slight decorative differences.

After a moment’s thought, Qian Ye led her back to his quarters at the Dark Flame base.

As the woman entered, she scrutinized Qi Shijie, who stood at the door, looking her over from head to toe and then back again. The two beauties, one big and one small, exchanged glares, their eyes wide with surprise.

Qian Ye felt a headache coming on.

Before he could blink, the woman walked straight into the bedroom and casually tossed the force cannon to the side, creating a dent in the floor with a loud thud.

Qian Ye’s eyelids twitched involuntarily, not because of the dented floor, but out of heartache for the level seven hand cannon.

A level seven force weapon was a significant step up from a level six, and any level seven gun was at least ten times more expensive, often with no available market. If it was a custom piece, the scarcity of skilled craftsmen meant a waiting period of several or even dozens of years.

Before Qian Ye could speak, she threw herself onto his bed, bounced a few times, then sat up, declaring, “It’s not comfortable at all!”

After leaving that comment, she sat on the edge of the bed, crossed her long, straight legs, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag, completely unconcerned about her image.

Finally, Qian Ye couldn’t help but say, “That’s my bed.”

“Knowing it’s yours, so what? It’s just a lousy bed. Why, do you dare to stop me if I want to lie on it?”

Qian Ye was instantly defeated, and with a helpless laugh, he said, “No jokes, please. What do you want?”

Seeing Qian Ye’s awkwardness, she burst into laughter. “Has anyone ever told you that you look cute when you’re flustered?”

A dark aura flashed across Qian Ye’s face, and his voice turned cold. “I can assure you, it’s not cute.”

The flamboyant woman pouted, saying, “You can’t take a joke, just like Xiao Si.”

Slightly stunned, Qian Ye asked, “Xiao Si? Which Xiao Si?”

She replied impatiently, “Which Xiao Si? In the Zhao clan, there’s only one person called Zhao Si, and that’s Zhao Jundu.”

In the vast Zhao clan, with countless branches, it was impossible for only Zhao Jundu to hold the rank of fourth. But nowadays, when people mentioned Zhao Si, they referred to Zhao Jundu, and no one else.

Qian Ye fell silent, his eyes turning icy. He asked coolly, “And you?”

She jumped to his front, extending her hand. “Come, pretty boy, let’s meet! I’m Zhao Yuying from the Yan Yun Zhao clan, and the Duke of Youguo is my grandfather.”

The Yan Yun Zhao clan had two hereditary dukes, the Duke of Yan and the Duke of Youguo. For centuries, the head of the clan alternated between these two branches. Until the current Duke of Youguo’s younger brother rose to prominence, earning the title of Duke Xuan Yuan, and securing the hand of the Imperial Princess Gao Yi for his eldest son, Zhao Weihuang, who, after a decade of strategic planning, was finally crowned the Duke of Chengen and became the head of the Zhao clan.

In other words, the current Duke of Youguo, Zhao Xuanji, was Zhao Weihuang’s uncle. Within the Zhao clan, although the head of the clan had been shifted, the roots of the Duke of Yan and Duke of Youguo were deeply entrenched and could not be easily shaken in a generation or two.

Feeling a chill, Qian Ye also found it somewhat odd.

Among the younger generation of the Zhao clan, Zhao Weihuang’s four sons and one daughter overshadowed most of the others. In reality, the Zhao clan was never short of geniuses, and Zhao Yuying was a standout among the side branches.

But she was particularly unique, known only by name and rarely seen. Even high-ranking heirs like Song Zining and Wei Po Tian had never met her, meaning she rarely attended social events in the upper echelons of the empire. Compared to the four young lords, her presence was completely overshadowed.

Upon seeing her in person, Qian Ye felt that the external evaluations of her were inaccurate. Zhao Yuying was exceptionally powerful. Setting aside her level seven hand cannon, which not just anyone could use, a weaker warlord might be drained dry by a single shot. Even if she couldn’t match Zhao Jundu and Zhao Ruoxi, she undoubtedly surpassed the other three young lords.

Seeing Qian Ye’s lack of response, Zhao Yuying shook her hand, nearly touching his nose.

Instead of taking her hand, Qian Ye asked, “Did Zhao Jundu send you here?”

“Him?” Zhao Yuying snorted. “He has nothing to do with it. I just wanted to see how much trouble his disobedient little brother could cause.”

Her last statement made Qian Ye remember something, and his heart softened. He sighed silently, hesitated, and finally slowly extended his hand, shaking hers.

Zhao Yuying’s smile suddenly changed, filled with smug satisfaction.

Qian Ye suddenly felt an immense force through her hand, strong enough to leave a mark on steel. He had no doubt that if he were slightly weaker, his bones would shatter. With a deep roar, he unleashed all his strength, clashing back with equal force.

Their power was evenly matched, and neither could gain the upper hand, resulting in a stalemate.

Surprised, Qian Ye realized this was the first time he had encountered someone his age who could match him in raw strength. Even ordinary warlords were far weaker. Zhao Yuying, a woman, had a terrifying strength that rivaled a spider demon of the same level.

Seeing her sudden attack fail, Zhao Yuying’s ponytail fluttered, and she charged at Qian Ye. Her shoulder charge was accompanied by the sound of crackling lightning.

Qian Ye recognized the sound, a sign of surrounding force resonance. With a stern face, he countered with a shoulder charge, generating a similar sound.

The two collided with a loud crash, causing the cups, dishes, and other fragile items in the room to shatter. Anything not sturdy, including pillows and bedding, disintegrated into pieces.

Their clash, fueled by overflowing force, was destructive.

Once again, the impact was evenly matched, and Zhao Yuying wavered. The movement, timed and angled perfectly, destabilized Qian Ye. She wrapped her long legs around him, lifting him off the ground, and then slammed him down.

Qian Ye reacted quickly, twisting his waist and legs, clinging to Zhao Yuying and lifting her off the ground as well.

Entangled, they both tumbled to the floor, grappling and rolling. Every part of their bodies became a weapon, attacking with elbows, fists, and heads. To put it crudely, their fight resembled a street brawl, chaotic and driven by instinct, with no set form or pattern.

Yet, despite its unrefined appearance, the fight was perilous. Every strike and headbutt had the power to break stone.

In a series of loud thuds, both absorbed countless blows. Qian Ye’s robust body matched that of a blood warlord, but Zhao Yuying, a dazzling woman, showed no weakness. In terms of physique, she was even stronger than Wei Po Tian.

However, Zhao Yuying was already at level eleven, and in terms of force, Qian Ye was no match. Soon, he was overwhelmed and pinned down, with her left hand gripping his throat.

Qian Ye’s chest heaved, and he gasped for breath. The brief but intense battle had drained all his force, leaving him too weak to even lift his hand.

But through this fight, Qian Ye gained a clear understanding of Zhao Yuying’s combat prowess. Among the warlords he had faced, Song Zining, who was also at level eleven, was no match for Zhao Yuying. In a real fight, against Zhao Yuying’s force cannon, Song Zining would be toast with a single shot.

Zhao Yuying stared at Qian Ye for a moment, then smiled. “You may look like a pretty trinket, but you can hold your own in a fight. Not bad! That’s the kind of man I like. No wonder Zhao Si, that fool, offended so many for you.”

Zhao Yuying stood up, pulling Qian Ye up with her.

At that moment, a leaf drifted slowly between them.

Both Qian Ye and Zhao Yuying fixed their gazes on the falling leaf, and the atmosphere suddenly became eerily strange.