Chapter 801- Award Ceremony
The domain, the invisible, divine, transcendent domain, pressed. The mana, the ambient, divine mana, weighed. The prince, his body, his cultivation, his ego — all were crushed. The weight, the impossible, overwhelming, existence-denying weight of a being who was simply, absolutely, beyond him, was there.
The prince trembled. His whole body, the standing, aristocratic body, shook. The vibration, the visible, physical, uncontrollable vibration of a man whose entire being was screaming "SUBMIT," was there. His knees, the bending, weakening knees, were there. The urge, the overwhelming, biological, primal urge to kneel, was there.
His bow. The deep, involuntary, soul-deep bow of a man whose body had submitted before his mind could resist, was there. His knees, hitting the deck, were there. His head, bowed, was there. The sweat, dripping from his face onto the jade, was there.
"Fore... Forefather..." he whispered. His voice, the broken, trembling, fear-crushed voice of a prince who had been reduced to a supplicant, was there.
The word, the title, the impossible title — "Forefather," the term used in the Immortal Court for beings of the highest, most absolute, most unapproachable authority — was there.
The crowd, the emperor, the princess, everyone — went silent. The shock, the absolute, world-ending, reality-shattering shock of hearing an Immortal Court prince call a man who had been banished to the lower realm "Forefather," was there.
Shen Mu, standing on the tournament field, coughed blood.
The cough, the sudden, involuntary, shock-induced cough, was there. The blood, the thin, red spray, was on his hand. His eyes, the gold-flecked brown eyes, were wide. The shock, the genuine, unscripted, past-life-shattering shock, was there.
’What the fuck?’
His internal thoughts, the confused, reeling, paradigm-breaking thoughts, were there.
’Forefather? He called Tianlong Forefather? In the past life... in the past life, Tianlong attacked the Immortal Court directly. He fought them. He was their enemy. They were his enemy. The Immortal Court prince never... never bowed to him. Never called him that. What happened? What changed?’
’This is not the same. This is not the past life. Something is different. Tianlong is different. He is... he is not the same man I fought on the cliff.’
The realization, the cold, creeping, terrifying realization that his past life knowledge might not be as reliable as he thought, was there. The doubt, the first, seeds-planted, growing doubt, was there.
Tianlong, his gold-crimson eyes, on Shen Mu, caught the expression. The blood, the coughed blood, the wide eyes. The shock. The confusion. The doubt.
He smirked.
’Yes, sword sovereign. I saw it too. Your expression. You expected me to react the way I did in the past life. To attack the Immortal Court. To make them my enemy. You were going to use them against me. But you did not account for one thing.’
’I have the memories too. I know what happened. I know what you planned. And I am not the man I was in the past life. I am more. I am prepared. I am patient. I am... ahead of you.’
The smirk, the small, knowing, private smirk, was there.
The Immortal Court prince, his lackeys, their black-eyed, trembling bodies, retreated. The departure, the humiliated, fear-driven, silent departure, was there. The crowd, still in shock, parted.
Tianlong, standing, addressed the field. His voice, amplified by the formation arrays, carried.
"Since the tournament has been interrupted," he said. His voice was calm. Generous. The voice of a magnanimous ruler. "How about giving these young warriors the chance to hold the trophy? All five who remain standing — no, all five who performed the best — shall be chosen. Rewarded. Recognized."
The words, the political, crowd-pleasing, reputation-building words, were there. The five, the chosen five, were announced. Shen Mu. Shen Yue. Shen Ling. The Body Integration elder. The noblewoman.
The crowd erupted. The cheers, the gratitude, the adulation, were there.
"Emperor Tianlong! He is so generous!"
"He gave the tournament to the young warriors! He did not let the Immortal Court’s interruption ruin everything!"
"Truly, a great emperor! A generous emperor!"
"The Breeding Immortal? More like the Benevolent Immortal!"
Tianlong, his gold-crimson eyes, on the cheering crowd, held the satisfaction. The political, reputation-building, popularity-consolidating satisfaction, was there. He was, in this moment, a politician. A ruler. A man who had turned an interruption into an opportunity.
His eyes, sweeping the crowd, found the two sisters. Shen Yue and Shen Ling. Both eighteen. Both standing on the field, their robes disheveled, their faces flushed, their bodies young and slender.
Shen Yue, her bright eyes, on him, was there. The crush, the obvious, fan-girl, heart-thumping crush, was there. Her face, the flushed, excited, smiling face, was there. Her eyes, the bright, adoring, starstruck eyes, met his. The contact, the brief, intentional, gold-crimson-on-dark contact, was there. Her heart, the pounding, thumping, racing heart, was there. Her flush, the deep, crimson, full-face flush, was there.
Shen Ling, her round face, her bright eyes, was there. Not a crush. Not yet. But the peek. The stolen, curious, interested peek. Her eyes, on his body, on his chest, on his arms, on the way his robe draped over his muscles, was there. The curiosity, the female, instinctive, "is-he-really-that-impressive" curiosity, was there.
Tianlong, his gold-crimson eyes, on the two sisters, swept. Their bodies. Their robes. Their boobs. The mounds, the young, firm, eighteen-year-old mounds, were there. The shape, the size, the handful-just-right size, was there.
’Handful. Both of them. A handful each. The one with the crush — perkier nipples, I can see them through the fabric. The other one — slightly larger, softer. Both good. Both adequate. Both... useful.’
His smile, the small, knowing, predatory smile, was there. The look, the deliberate, intentional, "I am looking at your body and I like what I see" look, was there. His eyes, on their boobs, lingered. Just a moment. Just enough.
Shen Yue, her heart, the exploding, thumping, racing heart, was there. Her face, the crimson, burning, on-fire face, was there. Her hands, clasped, were there. Her thighs, pressed together, were there.
’He is looking at me. He is looking at my... my... oh gods, he is looking at my chest. His eyes. Those golden eyes. They are on my...’
Her internal thoughts, the racing, flustered, arousal-tinged thoughts, were there.
Shen Ling, her round face, the flush, the sudden, unexpected flush, was there. The peek, the stolen peek that had been caught, was there. Her eyes, widening, the embarrassment, the "he-saw-me-looking" embarrassment, was there.
’He saw me. He saw me looking at him. And he smiled. That smile. That knowing, predatory, "I-know-what-you-were-doing" smile. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.’
~~ The Prize Ceremony — The Trap
The ceremony was organized.
The platform, the raised jade platform in the palace courtyard, was decorated. The banners, the Azure Cloud colors, the Long Dynasty crest, hung. The guards, the formal, armored guards, lined the perimeter. The ministers, the courtiers, the officials, stood. The crowd, the citizens, the spectators, filled the square.
At the center, the podium. Emperor Yun, standing, his dark blue and silver robes, his kind face, was there. Beside him, Tianlong, his dark crimson robe, his gold-crimson eyes, was there. Behind them, the princess and the empress, their formal attire, their composed faces, were there.
The five winners stood in a line. The Body Integration elder. The noblewoman. Shen Yue. Shen Ling. And, at the end, Shen Mu.
One by one, Emperor Yun presented the badges. The golden tokens, the markers of achievement, the cultivation-enhancing talismans, were given.
"Minister Zhao," Emperor Yun said, presenting the badge to the elder. The applause, the formal, polite applause, was there.