Chapter 776- Anger of Eldest Prince
~~ The Departure
He came out of the cave.
The four women, behind him, followed. Their robes, restored, their bodies composed, their faces — the vacant, devoted, broken faces of women whose minds had been rewritten — were there. They walked. Like loyal pets. Like devoted disciples. Like women who had seen the future and had embraced it.
The crowd, the soldiers, the cultivators who had been waiting outside, looked. The Emperor, walking out of the cave, his hands behind his back, his expression calm, was there. The four women, behind him, were there.
The Reincarnation Pool — the entire pool, the water, the ancient liquid, the entire inheritance of the Jade Sect’s Fairy — was gone. Absorbed. Stored in his dimensional pocket. The entire pool. Every drop.
The soldiers, the cultivators, the commanders, saw. The empty cavern, the dry basin, the bare stone where the legendary pool had been — all of it, visible. The pool was gone. Taken. By the Emperor.
The whispers, the shocked, awed, terrified whispers, spread.
"He took the whole pool! The entire thing!"
"Not a drop left! He just... took it!"
"What kind of power... what kind of being..."
But no one objected. No one dared. The army, the fleet, the divine power — all of it, kept the silence.
The ships returned. The four warships, the Long Dynasty vessels, lifted. The formation arrays, the golden and crimson qi, hummed. The fleet, the imperial fleet, turned south. Toward the Purple Astral Palace. Toward the next phase.
Tianlong, standing on the deck of the flagship, his gold-crimson eyes on the horizon, his four women standing behind him, was there. His dimensional pocket, the Reincarnation Pool water stored within, was his weapon. A weapon more powerful than any sword, any formation, any army.
’In the future, if I need to fuck a woman, I just awaken her memory. Show her what will happen. What she will become. She will surrender. Without effort. Without resistance. Without fight.’
’A very good weapon.’
He smiled. The expression, the small, knowing, satisfied smile of a being who had just acquired the most powerful manipulation tool in existence, was there.
~~ The Eldest Prince — The Fall
The eldest prince, the scholarly man in white and silver robes, arrived at the Han estate.
He was carrying a flower. The glowing, jade-green flower, the spirit-bloom he had been charging with beast cores during the inheritance battle. The cure. The medicine for Lady Han’s father. The surprise, the romantic, hopeful surprise for the woman he loved.
He walked to the gate. The iron and wood gate, the Han family crest, was there.
The guard, at the gate, stopped him.
"I am sorry, my Lord," the guard said. His voice was firm. Respectful but unyielding. "The family is not receiving visitors."
The eldest prince, his sharp eyes, the frustration, the confusion, was there. He pushed. Past the guard, through the gate, into the courtyard.
He saw her.
Lady Han. The merchant’s daughter. His childhood friend. The woman he loved. She was walking. Beside her, her father. Lord Han, the patriarch, the healed merchant, was walking. His steps, steady, strong, were there. He was healed. Completely. The gray, the withered, the dying man — all of it, gone. He was healthy. Strong. Alive.
"Han!" the eldest prince called. His voice was bright. Warm. The greeting of a man arriving with a gift.
Lady Han turned. Her dark eyes, the warm eyes, found him. The expression, the complicated, guilty, pained expression of a woman who had been fucked by the man this prince hated, was there.
"Prince," she said. Her voice was flat. Not cold. Not warm. Flat.
The eldest prince, his scholarly face, the smile, the warmth, was there. But his eyes, his sharp eyes, were on her father. On the healed, walking, healthy father.
"Your father is healed!" he said. His voice was shocked. "How? When?"
Lady Han, her dark eyes, the guilt, looked at him. The answer, the simple, devastating answer, was there.
"The Immortal Emperor helped," she said. Her voice was quiet. The words, the admission, was there.
The eldest prince’s mouth twisted. The expression, the grimace, the physical manifestation of everything he was feeling — the anger, the jealousy, the hatred, the helplessness — was there.
"What?" he said. His voice was tight.
Then louder. "I told you! I told you to stay away from him! Are you a fool? Are you—"
Lady Han yelled back. The response, the first time she had ever raised her voice to him, the first time she had ever challenged a prince, was there.
"I had no choice!" she screamed. Her voice, the raw, desperate, angry voice of a woman who had sacrificed everything, was there. "My father was dying! You were gone! You were chasing your inheritance! You gave me a pendant and left! What was I supposed to do? Watch him die?"
The eldest prince, the shock, the first time a woman had yelled at him, the first time someone had challenged his authority, was there. He stepped forward. His hand, raised, was there.
"How dare you yell at me!" he said. His voice was the voice of a prince. The authority, the entitlement, the privilege of a man who had never been challenged. "I am a prince!"
He attacked. His hand, the Divine Integration qi, surged. The strike, the physical, cultivator-powered strike of a man whose anger had overridden his judgment, was there.
She kicked him.
The impact, the Soul Formation peak qi channeling through her leg, hit. The eldest prince, his Divine Integration early stage cultivation, was hit. Not because she was stronger. She was not. Soul Formation peak was below Divine Integration. But the surprise, the shock, the unexpected nature of the counter, was there. And the divine qi in her body, the residual divine essence from Tianlong’s cum, amplified the strike.
He was thrown. His body, the scholarly frame, the white and silver robes, was hurled backward. Out of the courtyard. Through the gate. Onto the street.
He lay. On the cobblestones. His robes, the white and silver, dirty. His face, the impact bruise, was there.
"You are at... Soul Formation peak?" he gasped. His voice was incredulous. The realization, the impossible, incomprehensible realization that his childhood friend, a mortal, a merchant’s daughter with no cultivation, was now at Soul Formation peak, was there. "How?"
She stood. At the gate. Her dark eyes, the warm eyes, the eyes that had once looked at him with affection, were there.
"It was blessed upon me by the Immortal Lord," she said. Her voice was quiet. The words, the admission, the confirmation, were there.
The eldest prince, his chest, his hand clenching, the physical pain of a heart breaking, was there. The gasp, the sharp intake of breath, was there.
The door of the Han family estate closed. In his face.
He stood. On the street. Alone. The flower, the glowing jade-green spirit-bloom, the cure he had spent days charging, was in his hand. Useless. Unneeded. Too late.
"Dammit," he said. His voice was raw. "How?"
He walked. Through the streets, past the merchants, past the common folk. His white and silver robes, dirty and torn. His face, bruised. His eyes, wild.
"How could you steal my woman from me, you bastard!" he yelled at the sky. His voice, the raw, anguished, furious voice of a man who had lost everything, echoed. "I will kill you! I will—"