The Crown Prince was as excited as if he had just received an injection: “This is none other than the Undying War God, Sir Yang Hao, Lord of the Oracular Territory, Leader of the Sword of the Vast Sea Group, Head of the Dan Ding Sword Sect, and one of the Ten Council Members of the Merchant Guild. He is the most powerful young expert in our empire…”
The Crown Prince’s introduction seemed to pile all of Yang Hao’s titles together. While this might have been impressive to many women, the two women most connected to Yang Hao at the ball showed little reaction. Princess Xianlan sneered, while Lan Ling was slightly more composed, not even turning her head.
The Crown Prince truly seemed cursed by misfortune—he just had to bring up the forbidden topic: “Sir Yang Hao was personally chosen by the Emperor as his future son-in-law, Princess Xianlan’s fiancé. From what I know, their wedding will take place very soon. I suggest we open tonight’s ball with a dance between the princess and her betrothed.”
Silence… a deathly silence.
Not only Yang Hao, but even Xianlan herself was left speechless, completely unprepared for such a move by the Crown Prince. That unfortunate soul pushed Yang Hao forward and then quickly stepped aside, smugly admiring his own mischief.
Now, the relationship between Yang Hao and Xianlan was exposed to everyone. The swarm of admirers around the mighty Undying War God, Sir Yang Hao, instantly scattered. Even the most oblivious women wouldn’t dare offend the princess.
On the contrary, there were still three or four men lingering near the princess, clearly ready to confront Yang Hao.
The dance floor was cleared, and soft music began to play. The opening dance was the most important part of any ball, reserved only for the host and the most honored guest.
Yang Hao stood awkwardly in the center of the dance floor, unsure whether he should invite Princess Xianlan to dance. In his heart, he wanted to stay as far away from this woman as possible, but the Crown Prince had already spoken publicly. Refusing to respond might seem ungracious.
Just as Yang Hao hesitated, Xianlan’s icy voice cut through the music: “A commoner dares to dance with me?”
“What did you say?” Yang Hao lifted his head, his eyes locking onto hers.
Xianlan had always been arrogant. But under Yang Hao’s gaze, she felt a burning sensation on her face. Still, she forced herself to continue: “What lord? Just a hick. Do you really think you can be my fiancé? You’re nothing but a toad dreaming of swan meat.”
Yang Hao smiled.
Suddenly, he realized how foolish he was. Some people in this world didn’t need others to give them face—why should he care about being gracious?
Seeing Yang Hao smile, Xianlan thought he was mocking her. Her face flushed with anger: “A hick is still a hick. You’re not even worthy to carry my shoes.”
With that, she grabbed a young noble beside her and began to dance gracefully.
She was clearly trying to humiliate Yang Hao, ignoring the Crown Prince’s anxious glances from a distance. She twirled around Yang Hao, her long dress flowing like a lovesick butterfly.
All eyes now turned to Yang Hao. Originally, the Crown Prince had arranged for Xianlan and Yang Hao to open the ball. Now that someone else had taken the lead, Yang Hao stood in the center of the dance floor, looking like an unwanted extra.
The crowd’s attention wasn’t on the princess’s dance anymore. Everyone was waiting to see how Yang Hao would handle this embarrassment and humiliation. If this newly risen figure couldn’t save face here, he might never be respected in high society again.
Yang Hao stood silently for a moment, then smiled again. He thought how utterly boring this was—these nobles were so idle and meaningless. He didn’t care who danced first or with whom. He turned to leave.
At that very moment, a pair of fragrant arms wrapped around his neck. A woman, blushing and beautiful enough to make one’s heart tremble, pressed herself against him.
And thus began a romantic dance.
When Yang Hao finally came to his senses from the shock, he realized the woman dancing so intimately with him was none other than Lan Ling.
The one who had always sat in the corner, the one so many noble youths longed to approach but dared not. The one who hadn’t danced with a man in over a decade.
The one who seemed cold and distant on the surface, but whose heart was warm like a flowing stream—the most beautiful woman in the capital.
The entire ballroom fell silent.
The noble youths couldn’t believe their eyes. The untouchable Lan Ling had actually taken the initiative to dance with a man—and not just any dance, but a romantic, intimate face-to-face dance.
In an instant, countless hearts were filled with jealousy. Whether man or woman, they all felt a sense of loss, as if something precious had been taken from them.
Envy, admiration, and reverence flooded the dance floor, all focused on the couple in the center.
Even the princess was forgotten. The situation had instantly reversed. The triumphant Xianlan was now the unwanted jester, while Yang Hao had risen to become the true star of the ball.
“So fragrant,” Yang Hao whispered, taking a whiff of Lan Ling’s long neck.
Lan Ling bit her lip but said nothing, her face growing even redder.
“These jewels… are they for me?” Yang Hao whispered sweetly by her ear, “Did you miss me?”
“Only a fool would miss you.”
“Right, you are a fool,” Yang Hao teased, “My fool—the most beautiful one in my heart.”
Lan Ling glared at him playfully but then turned serious: “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not really helping you. I just think since you and Xianlan are engaged, you shouldn’t fight so much.”
“Women, women,” Yang Hao sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand you. Do you really feel accomplished setting up the man you love?”
“I know…” Lan Ling’s face was nearly buried in Yang Hao’s chest. “But… but… you are her fiancé, and I…”
Yang Hao held her even tighter.
“I won’t end up with Xianlan. I promise,” Yang Hao said solemnly. “Lan Ling, I only love you.”
Lan Ling was nearly intoxicated by Yang Hao’s gaze. The music of the ballroom felt like fine wine, making the two oblivious to the gazes of others, even to the attention of the entire empire.
Yang Hao kissed Lan Ling’s forehead, like a prince awakening his sleeping beauty. This breathtaking moment moved some women to tears.
Then, a flash of sword light cut through the air, aimed directly at Yang Hao’s neck.
It was a pathetic attempt at an ambush, almost laughable. The two lovers were no ordinary people—one was a Saint-level expert, the other a peak Saint-level warrior. Could they really be caught off guard by such an amateur attack?
Before the sword could even reflect the light of the ballroom, Yang Hao and Lan Ling had already vanished from sight, reappearing five meters away. But the attacker’s sword couldn’t stop, and it struck another dancing couple instead.
“Ahh!” A piercing scream rang out, finally drawing everyone’s attention to the chaos.
The nobleman who had been stabbed in the buttock flew into a rage: “Who did this?! Who dared attack me?! Come out now!”
Actually, the culprit didn’t need to come out—he was right there in the middle of the dance floor. It was the man Princess Xianlan had dragged into the dance like a conscripted soldier, the one who thought he was in a dream of romance.
He had golden hair, a high nose bridge, and pale skin that was almost eerie. His name was Nico, a noble of pure bloodline from Earth, and one of the princess’s ardent admirers.
“Nico, are you mad?!” The wounded noble, seeing the attacker still standing there, was furious.
The ballroom was brightly lit, and the Imperial Guards rushed in with practiced efficiency. An assassination attempt within the palace walls was a grave offense.
A group of black-armored warriors surrounded Nico. The young man’s golden hair was disheveled, sweat dripping from his forehead, his hand trembling as he held the sword. His eyes kept darting behind him—to the one who had plotted this.
“What happened?” The ill-fated Crown Prince reappeared, looking at the wounded noble and then at the blood on Nico’s blade. He frowned deeply. “Arrest him.”
The Imperial Guards responded with a shout and moved forward.
But then a string of silver laughter rang out. Princess Xianlan stood in front of the guards with an unreadable smile: “Get out.”
The Crown Prince froze. The commander of the guards was even more stunned, though his hesitation was wiser—he only paused for a second before immediately withdrawing his men. Everyone in the capital knew that offending the Crown Prince was nothing, but offending the princess meant death.
“Get out!” Xianlan’s second command was directed at the wounded noble.
This noble must have had the worst luck in history—stabbed in the butt and then chased away. But who could dare challenge the princess? He gave the Crown Prince a resentful look, and the Crown Prince could only shrug helplessly.
At that moment, everyone understood: Nico had swung the sword, but the real mastermind was Princess Xianlan. Since it was the princess’s order, the target was obviously not the poor noble—but the graceful, flying figure of Yang Hao.
Once again, all eyes turned to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao felt wronged. The sword had clearly been aimed at both of them—why did everyone assume the princess’s target was him? Maybe it was just jealousy between women, a lover’s quarrel.
The Crown Prince was still as excited as if he had been injected with adrenaline: “This is none other than Sir Yang Hao, the Undying War God, Lord of the Divine Dominion, Commander of the Hao Sword Regiment, Leader of the Danding Sword Sect, and one of the Ten Directors of the Merchant Guild. He is the most formidable young master of our empire…”
The Crown Prince’s introduction was essentially a compilation of all Yang Hao’s titles. While this might have been impressive to some women, the two women at the ball who had the closest ties to Yang Hao remained unimpressed. Princess Xianlan sneered, while Lan Ling, though slightly better, didn’t even turn her head.
The Crown Prince was truly a harbinger of misfortune. As if he hadn’t already stirred enough trouble, he went on to mention the one thing that shouldn’t have been brought up: “Sir Yang Hao is also the son-in-law personally chosen by His Majesty the Emperor—Princess Xianlan’s fiancé. As far as I know, they will be married soon. I suggest that the princess and her betrothed now share the opening dance of tonight’s ball.”
Silence. Dead silence.
Not only Yang Hao, but even Xianlan was left speechless, never expecting the Crown Prince to pull such a stunt. After pushing Yang Hao into the spotlight, the unlucky prince smugly stepped aside, thinking he had done something brilliant.
Now, the relationship between Yang Hao and Xianlan was laid bare for all to see. The swarm of admirers around the great Undying War God, Sir Yang Hao, immediately scattered. No matter how bold these women were, none dared to offend the princess.
On the other hand, the men standing near the princess remained—three or four of them, clearly itching to cause trouble for Yang Hao.
The dance floor was cleared, and soft music began to play. The opening dance was the most important part of any ball, reserved only for the host and the most distinguished guest.
Yang Hao stood awkwardly in the center of the dance floor, unsure whether he should invite Princess Xianlan. Emotionally, he would have preferred to stay as far away from her as possible, but the Crown Prince had already made the announcement. If he didn’t make a move, it would seem like a lack of grace.
Just as Yang Hao was caught in this dilemma, Xianlan’s cold snort drowned out the music: “A commoner like you isn’t worthy of dancing with me.”
“What?” Yang Hao raised his head, his gaze sharp.
Princess Xianlan was the epitome of arrogance, but under Yang Hao’s piercing stare, her face burned with embarrassment. After a moment’s hesitation, she forced out her words: “What kind of lord? You’re just a country bumpkin. And you think you can be my fiancé? You’re nothing but a toad lusting after swan meat!”
Yang Hao laughed.
Suddenly, he realized how foolish he had been. There were people in this world who didn’t deserve any courtesy, so why should he bother with grace?
Seeing Yang Hao laugh, Xianlan thought he was mocking her. Her delicate face twisted with fury: “A country bumpkin will always be a country bumpkin. You’re not even fit to polish my shoes.”
With that, Xianlan grabbed a young nobleman beside her and began to dance gracefully.
She was determined to humiliate Yang Hao, completely ignoring the Crown Prince’s anxious glances from afar. She twirled around Yang Hao, her long dress fluttering like a lovesick butterfly.
Now, all eyes were on Yang Hao. Originally, the Crown Prince had arranged for Xianlan and Yang Hao to dance the opening dance, but now that someone else had taken the lead, Yang Hao stood alone in the middle of the dance floor like an unwanted extra.
The crowd’s focus wasn’t on the princess’s dance but on how Yang Hao would handle this humiliation. If this rising star of the capital couldn’t reclaim his dignity, he would never be able to hold his head high in high society again.
Yang Hao remained silent for a moment, then chuckled, finding the whole affair utterly ridiculous. The nobles’ antics were the epitome of pettiness. He had no interest in who danced the first dance or with whom, and he prepared to leave.
Just as he turned, two fragrant arms wrapped around his neck, and a breathtakingly beautiful woman with flushed cheeks pressed against him.
And so, the romantic dance began.
When Yang Hao snapped out of his daze, he realized that the woman dancing intimately with him was none other than Lan Ling.
The woman who had been sitting in the corner all night, the one countless noblemen longed to approach but didn’t dare, the one who hadn’t danced with a man in over a decade.
The woman who appeared cold and unapproachable on the surface but whose heart was filled with warmth—the most beautiful woman in the capital.
The entire dance floor erupted in shock.
The noblemen couldn’t believe their eyes. Lan Ling, who had always seemed untouchable, had actually taken the initiative to dance with a man—and not just any dance, but an intimate, cheek-to-cheek waltz.
Countless hearts shattered in that instant. Both men and women felt a pang of jealousy, as if something precious had been snatched away from them.
Envy, admiration, and all sorts of gazes converged on the perfect pair in the center of the dance floor.
Even the princess was forgotten. The situation had reversed in an instant—Princess Xianlan, who had seemed victorious, was now the ridiculous clown, while Yang Hao had turned the tables and become the true master of the ball.
“You smell nice,” Yang Hao whispered, taking the opportunity to inhale the scent of Lan Ling’s long neck.
Lan Ling bit her lip, saying nothing, but her face grew even redder.
“Are these accessories… for me?” Yang Hao murmured in her ear with a smile. “Did you miss me?”
“Who would miss you?”
“Exactly—you’re the one,” Yang Hao teased sweetly. “The most beautiful ghost in my heart.”
Lan Ling shot him a reproachful glare but quickly composed herself. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not really helping you. I just think that since you and Xianlan are engaged, you shouldn’t make things too awkward.”
“Ah, women,” Yang Hao sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand you. Does playing matchmaker for the person you like give you some kind of satisfaction? How many times do I have to tell you? I have zero interest in Xianlan. The only one I like is you.”
“I know…” Lan Ling’s face was practically buried in Yang Hao’s chest. “But… but… you’re still her fiancé. I…”
Yang Hao held her tighter.
“I won’t end up with Xianlan. I promise,” Yang Hao said solemnly. “Lan Ling, it’s you I love.”
Lan Ling nearly melted in Yang Hao’s gaze. The ball’s music was like fine wine, making the two oblivious to the stares and the attention of the entire empire.
Yang Hao kissed Lan Ling’s forehead, like a prince awakening his sleeping beauty. The scene was so touching that some women watching were moved to tears.
Until a flash of sword light streaked toward Yang Hao’s neck.
It was a laughable attempt—like teaching a fish to swim. The two lovers, one a master of the Saint Realm and the other a peerless expert at its peak, couldn’t possibly be caught off guard by such a clumsy ambush.
Before the sword could even reflect the ballroom’s lights, Yang Hao and Lan Ling had already vanished, reappearing five meters away. The attacker’s blade, unable to stop, plunged straight into another dancing couple.
“Ah!” A shrill scream pierced the air, finally alerting the crowd to the unexpected incident.
The nobleman who had been stabbed in the buttocks was furious: “Who?! Who dares ambush me?! Show yourself!”
There was no need for the culprit to step forward—he was already standing in the middle of the dance floor. It was the man Princess Xianlan had dragged into dancing, the one who had foolishly thought he was in paradise.
The man had golden hair, a high nose bridge, and an unnaturally pale complexion. His name was Nico, a nobleman of pure Earth lineage and one of the princess’s most ardent suitors.
“Nico, have you lost your mind?!” The wounded nobleman roared when he saw the perpetrator standing there dumbfounded.
The lights blazed as the well-trained imperial guards stormed in. An assassination attempt inside the royal palace was a grave crime.
A group of black-armored warriors surrounded Nico. The young man’s golden hair was disheveled, sweat beading on his forehead, his sword hand trembling slightly as his gaze flickered toward the mastermind behind him.
“What’s going on?” The unlucky Crown Prince reappeared, frowning at the wounded nobleman and the blood on Nico’s blade. “Arrest him.”
The guards moved to obey, but another peal of silver laughter cut through the air. Princess Xianlan stood before them, her smile unreadable. “Get out!”
The Crown Prince froze. The guard captain hesitated for only a second before immediately withdrawing his men. Everyone in the palace knew—offending the Crown Prince was one thing, but crossing the princess was a death sentence.
“Get out!” Xianlan’s second command was directed at the injured nobleman.
The poor man had been stabbed in the backside and was now being kicked out, but who dared defy the princess? With a resentful glance at the Crown Prince (who could only shrug helplessly), he limped away.
Now, everyone understood—while Nico had wielded the sword, the one pulling the strings was Princess Xianlan. And if the princess was behind it, the target couldn’t have been that unlucky nobleman—it had to be Yang Hao, who had been dancing so beautifully.
Once again, all eyes turned to Yang Hao.
Yang Hao felt wronged. The sword had been aimed at both of them—why assume Xianlan’s target was him? Maybe it was a case of feminine jealousy, an attempt to eliminate a rival.
But no one understood his grievance—not even Lan Ling, who stuck out her tongue as if to say, “Not my problem.”
Bolstered by the princess’s support, Nico grew even more emboldened. He raised his sword, pointing it directly at Yang Hao. “I challenge you.”
The lights seemed too bright, making Yang Hao feel uncomfortably hot. He almost thought he’d misheard. “What did you say?”
“I challenge you,” Nico sneered. “I am Count Nico, and I challenge you, Viscount Yang Hao. Only one of us will walk away alive. The victor shall be Princess Xianlan’s fiancé.”
“…What?”
“Of course, a commoner like you, a country bumpkin, has no right to marry the princess,” Nico declared smugly. “I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself with the sword.”
“Prove myself?” Yang Hao felt like he’d crossed into some parallel universe where no one knew he was the Undying War God or how strong he truly was.
Lan Ling couldn’t take it anymore and whispered a reminder: “These nobles live in their own little world. They spend their days feasting and playing, completely oblivious to the world outside. They think the higher your rank, the stronger your swordsmanship. Since your title is lower than his, he assumes your reputation is all hype.”
Finally, Yang Hao understood. He was torn between laughter and exasperation. Nico’s combat skills were somewhere between a Sword Master and a Great Sword Master—nowhere near the Saint Realm, let alone its peak. Challenging Yang Hao was like an ant trying to topple a mountain.
“Frogs in a well,” even Hunyuanzi couldn’t resist commenting. “If they knew you’re on par with the Elder Council, they’d lose their minds.”
But the surrounding nobles didn’t see it that way. The moment they heard someone was challenging Yang Hao, they erupted in cheers as if it were a festival. Scanning the crowd, Yang Hao saw the nobles’ eyes gleaming with twisted excitement under the decadent lights and music—like parasites clinging to the Earth, ugly and repulsive.
“This is the empire’s future generation, its future rulers,” Yang Hao sighed.
“This order is rotten to the core,” Hunyuanzi’s words echoed the prophecy of the Wisdom King. “If a new order doesn’t emerge, the universe will surely decline.”
Seeing Yang Hao’s lack of reaction, Nico assumed he was afraid. He flourished his sword, trying to intimidate him. To his credit, Nico’s swordsmanship bore traces of the Ten Sword Schools’ teachings, his stance flawless enough to draw screams of admiration from the ladies.
“Yang Hao! Do you have no honor as a warrior?” Nico taunted. “You dare call yourself the empire’s top young master? How can someone like you be worthy of Princess Xianlan’s hand? Her husband must be the greatest warrior in the universe!”
Yang Hao sighed and took a single step forward.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
A radiant aura of the Saint Realm emanated from Yang Hao’s body, an overwhelming pressure bearing down on every noble in the ballroom.
His voice, like nails hammered into their eardrums, resonated with undeniable authority:
“I am no mere warrior. I am a War Saint—the strongest existence in this world.”
With those words, Nico’s sword disintegrated into dust.
Yang Hao took another step. “I never wanted to marry the princess. She was never my choice.”
Xianlan’s face turned deathly pale as she stared at Nico in disbelief. But the arrogant challenger was now frozen in place, paralyzed by Yang Hao’s power.
Only now did Nico realize how laughable his challenge had been. Yang Hao’s strength was beyond his comprehension. At this moment, Nico was like a tiny boat adrift in a stormy sea—Yang Hao could crush him with a flick of his finger.
But Yang Hao didn’t strike. Instead, a strange smile curled his lips as the pressure abruptly lifted. The Saint Realm’s radiance faded, and Yang Hao released his power.
As he took Lan Ling’s hand and walked away from the ball, he left behind one final statement:
“I don’t want the princess. But I won’t lose, either.”
Encouraged by the princess’s support, Nico’s blood boiled even more. He raised his sword, pointing it directly at Yang Hao: “I challenge you.”
The lights seemed too bright, making Yang Hao feel hot all over. He almost thought he had misheard: “What did you say?”
“I challenge you,” Nico sneered. “I am Lord Nico. I challenge you, Lord Yang Hao. Only one of us can live. The winner will be the princess’s fiancé.”
“What?”
“Of course, a commoner like you, a hick like you, has no right to marry the princess,” Nico said smugly. “I am willing to give you a chance—to prove yourself in a duel.”
“Prove myself?” Yang Hao felt like he had entered another parallel world, where no one knew he was the Undying War God, where no one knew how powerful he truly was.
Lan Ling couldn’t stand it anymore and whispered: “These nobles, all they do is eat, drink, and play. They don’t understand the real world. They live in their own little bubble, thinking that the higher the title, the stronger the sword.”
Yang Hao finally understood. He couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Nico seemed to be somewhere between a Sword Master and a Grand Sword Master at best—still far from the Saint level, let alone challenging a peak Saint-level warrior.
“A frog in a well,” even Hun Yuanzi couldn’t help but mutter. “If they knew you were on the same level as the Elders of the Council, they’d go mad.”
Yang Hao and Hun Yuanzi thought this way, but the surrounding nobles didn’t. When they heard someone was challenging Yang Hao, they cheered wildly, as if it were a festival. Looking around, Yang Hao saw the nobles’ eyes gleaming with a strange light. Under the decadent lights and music, they looked like parasites clinging to Earth—ugly and repulsive.
“This is the next generation of the empire, the future rulers,” Yang Hao sighed.
“This order is already rotten. If a new order doesn’t arise soon, the universe will surely decline,” Hun Yuanzi’s words seemed to echo the words of the ancient AI King.
Nico, seeing Yang Hao’s lack of response, thought he was afraid. He flourished his sword, trying to intimidate him. In truth, Nico’s sword skills were quite impressive, a true inheritor of the Ten Sword Style. His stance was strong, earning screams of excitement from the women around.
“Yang Hao! Do you have no sense of honor as a warrior?” Nico mocked. “Dare you not even accept a challenge? How can you call yourself the greatest young expert? How can you be the princess’s fiancé? The princess’s husband must be the greatest warrior in the universe!”
Yang Hao sighed and took a step forward. The entire atmosphere changed instantly.
From Yang Hao’s body, the light of the Saint level radiated outward, a forceful pressure weighing down on every noble in the ballroom.
His voice was like nails being hammered into their ears: “I am not a warrior. I am a Martial Saint—the strongest being in this world.”
With those words, Nico’s sword shattered into dust.
Yang Hao took another step forward: “I never wanted to marry the princess. She is not the woman I want as my wife.”
Xianlan turned pale, nearly frozen in shock as she stared at Nico. But the arrogant fool was already paralyzed under Yang Hao’s pressure.
At that moment, Nico realized how ridiculous he had been. Yang Hao’s power was far beyond anything he could comprehend. Nico was like a small boat on a raging sea—Yang Hao could kill him with a single finger.
But Yang Hao didn’t strike. A strange smile appeared on his lips. The pressure around everyone eased. The Saint-level aura vanished. Without another word, Yang Hao took Lan Ling’s hand and walked out of the ballroom, leaving behind one final sentence: “I don’t want to marry the princess. And I don’t want to lose.”
Everyone stood in stunned silence, watching the couple disappear from sight. Suddenly, Niko, who had been silently standing there, let out a piercing scream. A black flame erupted from within him, consuming his living body in just a few seconds, leaving behind only a pile of charred bones.
Only when they gazed at the smoldering remains did the noble youths finally realize the kind of person they had provoked. Their minds and bodies trembled with fear, the only thought in their heads being never to cross Yang Hao again for the rest of their lives.
He was the most terrifying omen in the entire world.
The Sea of Despair lay several thousand kilometers from the imperial capital, but for two Saint-level experts, it was merely a place reachable in an instant.
At night, one couldn’t appreciate the fine, flour-like white sand, and the sea turned pitch black. Only the humid sea breeze blowing against their faces reminded them of the vastness of the ocean before them.
“Why did you kill him?” Lan Ling scolded lightly, though with her body leaning against Yang Hao’s warmth, she couldn’t quite return to her usual icy demeanor.
“Shh!” Yang Hao silenced her, pulling her closer and gently inhaling. The subtle fragrance emanating from Lan Ling was completely different from the perfumes worn by noblewomen. It was a natural, innocent scent, a private fragrance that only blossomed when a woman was with the one she loved.
Lan Ling leaned her entire weight against Yang Hao, unable to recall when she had last felt so relaxed. Perhaps in her entire life, she had never entrusted everything to someone else.
“If things could stay like this forever, would you stay with me?” It was the same question Yang Hao had once asked his AI companion.
“You’re asking again?” Lan Ling bit her lip, nearly wanting to bite the man in frustration.
“I’ll figure out how to break off the engagement with the princess,” Yang Hao said. “I’ll talk to Emperor Yinglie. If necessary, I’ll publicly declare it myself. Either way, I won’t marry Xuan Lan.”
“No!” Lan Ling’s body suddenly stiffened. “No, Yang Hao, you mustn’t do that.”
“Why not?” Yang Hao was a bit puzzled. “Don’t you want to be with me? After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t want to marry me?”
Lan Ling suddenly felt a warm wetness welling up in her eyes—tears she rarely shed rolled down her cheeks. “It’s not what you think, Yang Hao. Xuan Lan is my friend, my dearest childhood friend. Everyone knows you’re her fiancé. I can’t…”
“You’re afraid of what others will say?” Yang Hao shrugged. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I’m afraid Xuan Lan will be hurt. She’s not a bad person, just unfortunate in her childhood, so her personality became a bit strange.” Lan Ling buried her sorrow deep inside. “I can’t steal her husband. And there’s Ling Ziyun too. They are your women. I can’t…”
Yang Hao gently caressed Lan Ling’s face, feeling the wetness on his fingertips, realizing how deeply she was hurting. Perhaps Yang Hao wasn’t as perceptive as a woman might be, but he knew one thing—he wanted to be with the person he loved, and no one could stop him. Yet seeing Lan Ling in such pain, he couldn’t bear to push her further.
He gently wiped away her tears. “Leave it to me. I’ll figure it out.”
“No,” Lan Ling stubbornly insisted. “Our feelings can only exist tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll still be the Captain of the Imperial Guard, and you’ll still be Xuan Lan’s fiancé. Nothing needs to change.”
“When you’re stubborn like this, you’re not cute at all!” Yang Hao was truly at a loss with this woman, growing slightly annoyed.
But Lan Ling was always the first to erupt. She pushed off from Yang Hao and leapt several meters away in an instant. “You… you said I’m not cute, so we shouldn’t even be together tonight either.”
Under the faint moonlight reflecting off the sea, Yang Hao gazed at Lan Ling’s childish expression and was momentarily stunned. This woman always seemed cold and strong-willed, but when had she ever shown such a girlish, flirtatious side?
As the two indulged in their little quarrel, something stirred on the surface of the Sea of Despair.
On the pitch-black sea, a ship appeared—an enormous wooden vessel, dozens of stories high, its lights dazzlingly bright.
This wooden ship emerged from the distant horizon but approached at an unusually fast speed, nearing Yang Hao and Lan Ling in just a few blinks of an eye.
The scene was too bizarre. Even Yang Hao, who had seen many strange things in his travels, had never encountered anything like this.
What era was this? Simply put, it was the post-astronautic age, where science and space technology had reached astonishing heights. Even the old-fashioned rocket-propelled spacecraft of the pre-astronautic era were now only museum exhibits. The universe now belonged to AI-controlled starships, the skies were filled with instantaneous transport routes, and even the ground was dominated by land cruisers and personal flying vehicles.
Yet here on the sea, a wooden ship had appeared—could it possibly have come from ancient times?
As the ship drew closer, Yang Hao finally saw a giant jester emblem on its main sail. It turned out this massive wooden vessel belonged to a traveling circus.
Lan Ling had seen the ship at the same time as Yang Hao, but her expression wasn’t just surprise—it also carried a hint of embarrassment.
The two stood there, stunned, watching the wooden ship surge onto the beach and inexplicably run aground.
“Isn’t the sea under the Senate’s control?” Yang Hao finally found it strange. “How could such a ship exist?”
Lan Ling opened her mouth, as if wanting to explain something, but couldn’t find the words, only frowning helplessly.
Suddenly, a figure flew down from the wooden ship. As he descended, a spotlight from the ship followed him, as if he were a superstar.
And indeed, the man looked like a celebrity. He had long, flowing hair tied into a ponytail with a hairband. His face was charmingly pretty, and he wore loose, glittering clothes that looked like stage costumes. A dazzling longsword hung at his waist.
This man flew straight toward Lan Ling, landing directly in front of her. Without hesitation, he grabbed her hand and said in a sickeningly sweet tone, “Xiao Ling, why did you come to meet me? How did you know I’d arrive today?”
Xiao Ling?
Yang Hao’s stomach churned with jealousy, especially seeing the long-haired pretty boy holding Lan Ling’s hand without letting go. His temper flared, and he stomped forward. Unfortunately, the man had eyes only for his “Xiao Ling” and completely ignored Yang Hao.
“Zhou Yao, I…” Lan Ling yanked her hand back forcefully, her embarrassment evident on her face.
“My dear Xiao Ling, I missed you so much,” the man named Zhou Yao said, grabbing her hand again.
“Let go of her!!” Yang Hao finally exploded, completely disregarding his reputation as a supreme expert.
Zhou Yao only now noticed Yang Hao’s presence. Holding Lan Ling’s hand, he shot Yang Hao a disdainful look. “What’s it to you? What’s wrong with me talking to my fiancée?”
“FIANCEE!!” Yang Hao roared, and both Ying Yue and Hun Yuanzi screamed in his mind.
“Of course! Who else could be Lan Ling’s fiancé except me, Zhou Yao?”
This shameless man even stretched out both hands to embrace Lan Ling, completely oblivious to her darkening expression. “These days have been so hard without you…”
“Let go!” Both Lan Ling and Yang Hao shouted in unison.
Lan Ling yanked her hand free and stepped back, her beautiful face filled with fury.
Zhou Yao still hadn’t realized how close he was to death. “Xiao Ling, why are you still acting like this? I came back to marry you. From now on, you can be more affectionate with me…”
Lan Ling had to exert immense self-control to stop herself from killing him on the spot. What infuriated her even more was Yang Hao’s expression—full of suppressed confusion and doubt. Yang Hao, who had so many women, still didn’t trust her. It made her so angry she wanted to stab him with a spear.
Frustrated, Lan Ling stomped her foot and shot away like a silver flash, ignoring the misunderstanding between the two men.
“Xiao Ling! Xiao Ling…” Zhou Yao waved helplessly toward the direction Lan Ling had flown, unaware that Yang Hao’s expression was now murderous.
There were indeed countless people in the world who were eager to die. Before Yang Hao could even act, two more figures flew down from the wooden ship—both weak swordsmen barely reaching the level of sword masters. With sycophantic expressions, they began to insult Yang Hao.
“Random guy, get lost.”
“Me?” Yang Hao pointed at himself.
“That’s right, you. In front of our young master Zhou Yao, all male creatures are just extras, background characters.”
“Exactly! Our young master Zhou Yao is the heir to the Starlight Circus and the greatest performer in the universe.”
“Young master Zhou Yao is also the fiancé of the top beauty in the capital, Miss Lan Ling.”
“Fiancé?” Yang Hao, confused by the barrage of nonsense, only caught that word.
“Zhou Yao and Lan Ling were betrothed by the Senate when they were young. Their wedding will happen soon. Random guy, if you don’t want to die, stay away from Miss Lan Ling.”
Yang Hao tried to calm himself, but the world had too many people eager to die—too many for him to avoid.
Perhaps sensing Yang Hao’s killing intent, the two men and Zhou Yao were somewhat surprised. However, if someone like Yang Hao concealed his power, others would see him as not even reaching the level of a sword master. So those two probably thought Yang Hao was just the lowest-level swordsman.
They actually drew their swords and pointed them at Yang Hao, saying, “Random guy, do you know that our young master Zhou Yao will soon break through to the Saint realm and become the next Sword Saint? Go around the capital and see if anyone can rival young master Zhou Yao. We advise you to leave quietly, or else the brilliance of the Starlight Sword will make you regret it.”
Yang Hao glanced indifferently at Zhou Yao. The pretty boy didn’t seem particularly formidable, though the sword at his waist did emit a faint glow of a divine artifact, which was somewhat strange.
Yang Hao vaguely remembered hearing of the Starlight Circus before, but couldn’t place it.
“I’ll give you a chance to live,” Yang Hao said calmly. “From now on, forget about your engagement to Lan Ling, and sail your wooden ship off Earth.”
“What!” The three of them nearly went mad.
The two henchmen lunged at Yang Hao with their swords. The power in their strikes was nothing even a novice like Yang Hao would fear. So he stood still, as if he didn’t even know how to dodge, letting them attack.
Just as the two henchmen were about to rejoice, a black shadow flickered, and an old man suddenly appeared. The thin, elderly man had gray hair and beard, dressed in the colorful, baggy clothes of a clown.
“Boss!” Zhou Yao was startled—not by the old man’s sudden appearance, but because he effortlessly caught the tips of the two swords, preventing them from piercing Yang Hao.
“Enough!” The old man flicked his wrist, and the two henchmen were sent flying backward.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” Zhou Yao was still furious, pointing at Yang Hao and cursing. “This guy dared to flirt with Xiao Ling and told us to leave Earth.”
“I am Zhou Chuanqian, the leader of the Starlight Circus.” The old man bowed respectfully, a gesture reserved for martial artists ranked among the top hundred in the galaxy.
The other three were stunned by the gesture.
Yang Hao accepted it calmly and returned the bow. The old man exuded not a single trace of power—only a Saint-level expert could achieve such control, and he might even be a peak Saint-level master.
“May I ask your name?” The old man inquired, his face filled with confusion. There didn’t seem to be such a young expert of this caliber in the empire.
Yang Hao was about to speak when he suddenly sensed something. He turned around, and Maya, transformed into a golden light, had already landed before him.
“The old emperor is holding a meeting. He wants you to go immediately,” Maya said expressionlessly before vanishing into golden light again. After spending so much time with Yang Hao, even her way of speaking had become similar to his.
The phrase “old emperor” left Zhou Yao and the others speechless. They had seen boldness before, but never someone so audaciously disrespectful toward the emperor.
Yang Hao narrowed his eyes and looked at the sky. Dawn was breaking, and a new day had already begun. Without realizing it, he and Lan Ling had spent the entire night by the sea.
Today was the imperial council, where the emperor and his ministers would discuss negotiations with the Senate—specifically whether to hand Yang Hao over, a matter of great importance.
“I have something to attend to. Consider your lives spared—for now.” Yang Hao said to Zhou Chuanqian. “Leave Earth as soon as possible. Don’t make me send you off personally.”
“You, random guy, are asking for death!” The two henchmen, too scared to attack directly, hid behind Zhou Yao and shouted curses.
Yang Hao snorted coldly.
The two men spat out two mouthfuls of blood and were unable to speak again.
Zhou Yao was completely terrified, his pretty face twisted with fear.
Zhou Chuanqian’s lips twitched, and he bowed again. “May I know your honorable name? The Starlight Circus will surely send a gift in return someday.”
Yang Hao turned to leave.
Zhou Chuanqian grew anxious. “Sir, I cannot simply leave Earth just because of your words. The Starlight Circus holds a certain status in the universe. If you’re not too busy, please come to the capital and watch our circus performance the day after tomorrow.”
The old man hadn’t even finished his nagging words when Yang Hao had already ridden his sword into the starry sky. “I will come,” Yang Hao’s icy words seemed more like a blade.
Yet what shot out was flame. Amidst the clamor, Zhou Chuan and Zhou Yao suddenly noticed that their large wooden ship had somehow caught a roaring fire. This mysterious blaze was so fierce that even with hundreds rushing aboard to fight it, they could barely keep it under control.
Zhou Chuan’s expression changed drastically. Suddenly, he recalled someone—an individual regarded by elders, even the elder masters, as an ill-omened star.
“Boss,” Zhou Yao actually sounded somewhat aggrieved.
Zhou Chuan’s hand cracked like thunder across his nephew’s face. “Fool! Do you even realize who that ill-fated star is? Do you think you’re capable of provoking such a person?”
Zhou Yao shrank back a few steps, cowering. Yet Zhou Chuan then stomped his foot, shaking his head helplessly. “But… didn’t we come back precisely to provoke that ill-omened star?”
The starlight shining in the old man’s eyes burned brightly for only a brief moment before dimming once again.
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