Chapter Eighty-One: Establishing Authority

Gradually, the sound of the zither calmed, yet the gazes of nearly everyone present were fixed upon Ye Feng. But Second Brother Ye seemed utterly unconcerned by it all; a gentle smile played upon his lips as he spoke slowly, "Excellent, excellent!"

At his words, a faint sadness appeared on Princess Anran’s face as she stepped slowly out from the pavilion. She glanced in the direction of Ye Feng and Huan Qingwu, a flicker of complicated emotion passing through her bright eyes.

Today, Princess Anran was not dressed in splendid attire. She wore a simple white gown, adorned only by a pale yellow silver hairpin, giving her an air of tranquil aloofness.

All of this seemed like a silent protest against Ye Feng.

"Young Master Ye, please, have a seat over here," Princess Anran said with a gentle smile, approaching and nodding slightly to the pair.

Ye Feng brushed off his seat, still ignoring the hostile stares around him, and strode forward at his leisure. "Your Highness, you are too courteous."

To Ye Feng’s polite manner, Princess Anran replied only with a faint smile. Rumor had it that the royal family intended to marry her to Ye Feng, yet today he had brazenly entered the palace hand in hand with another woman!

Had it been any other young man present who heard he might be wed to Princess Anran by imperial decree, he would likely have been too excited to sleep for days. Who else would dare such audacity?

"I wonder, Your Highness, for what purpose have you invited me here today?" Seated beside Huan Qingwu, Ye Feng took her delicate hand in his, his tone calm and unhurried.

Such composure caused many of the young men behind to shift uneasily, their emotions a tumult of envy and confusion, uncertain whether to be angry or relieved.

With a soft sigh, Princess Anran turned her head slightly. "If I were to say I merely wished to thank you, Young Master Ye, I doubt you would believe me."

Ye Feng lifted his tea, savoring it quietly. He had been in the capital for nearly a month now and had grown accustomed to the indirect way people here spoke.

Princess Anran was somewhat taken aback by his bearing; she could not tell if Ye Feng was feigning ignorance or truly oblivious.

"A month from now, the day will come when the ancient ruins are opened. By then, the other two great empires will also send their younger generation to vie for entry. Therefore, I hope that when the time comes, the people of our Tianwu Empire can unite, advance and retreat as one, and strive for more places of entry!"

Ye Feng shook his head and slowly rose to his feet. "Your Highness still speaks too circumspectly." As he spoke, he looked around at the tables filled with young nobles behind him. "I trust everyone here knows well enough why I’ve caused such a stir in the capital, so I’ll say no more. I have but one thing to declare: A true man must slay his enemies!"

His final words rang out, resolute and clear, his face flushed with conviction.

For a moment, the Hundred Flowers Garden fell silent, so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. Ye Feng’s declaration had, in a sense, upstaged the host, yet none cared about such propriety.

They were all shocked by Ye Feng’s attitude—so resolute, so arrogantly forthright. Many present had never seen Ye Feng lose his temper, nor witnessed him kill. Yet each of them had spies watching his every move since his return to the capital. Every action he took seemed reckless, but on closer inspection, each was carried out with meticulous care, as if everything was under his absolute control.

Certainly, there were those who envied him, but more were filled with dread. At only fifteen, he possessed such presence and authority—it was truly baffling.

"Well said!" While all were still stunned, Princess Anran stood up, raising her teacup to Ye Feng from across the space. There was no jealousy, no anger in her eyes—only deep admiration.

Though Princess Anran was dissatisfied with Ye Feng for killing the Ninth Prince, she also knew that this young man could have saved her that day if he had chosen. Thus, she was conflicted, uncertain whether to hate or respect him, left with a feeling impossible to articulate.

"Hmph! Anyone can boast. Does Young Master Ye even know who will be coming this time?" A tall, broad-nosed young man stood up and addressed Ye Feng.

Ye Feng turned and glanced at the speaker. "Jin Ming, the third-ranked among the younger generation?" he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

"I am," Jin Ming replied, a bit taken aback, unsure what Ye Feng meant by this.

"Such a title—you are unworthy of it." Ye Feng pointed at him, slowly shaking his head. "To be a true leader among the young, strength alone is not enough. You have yet to even meet your opponents, and already you undermine your own side. That alone proves your cowardice!" Ye Feng gave him no chance to retort, his words cutting and direct.

"You—!" Jin Ming's face turned ashen, finger pointed at Ye Feng, yet he could not utter a word.

In Jin Ming’s view, the Sacred Land already controlled most of the western territories; only the Western Dragon Clan and the Filga Academy dared oppose them. The Ye family and the royal house were no match for the Sacred Land. He held nothing but disdain for Ye Feng’s actions in the capital, dismissing them as childish play.

Suddenly—

A cold gleam flashed. Before anyone could react, Ye Feng moved. In a blur, dagger in hand, he darted to Jin Ming’s side and severed the finger that had been pointed at him. In the next instant, he returned to his seat as if nothing had happened.

"My apologies—I am not accustomed to others pointing their fingers at me. Especially those I find disagreeable." Ye Feng casually picked up a cloth and wiped the blood from his blade, smiling as he spoke.

A collective gasp filled the air; even Jin Ming himself drew a sharp breath. This fellow was utterly reckless and audacious. Over such a minor slight, he had resorted to cutting off another’s finger without hesitation.

"I only hope, Young Master Ye, you don’t end up begging for mercy when the envoys of the two great empires arrive," Jin Ming said, showing his mettle by refusing to cry out in pain. He bent to pick up his severed finger and turned to leave.

"Should I take this as a signal that you’re defecting to the Sacred Land?" Ye Feng remained as arrogant as ever, smiling as he spoke.

In truth, he felt helpless—despite all the blood he had shed, there were still those who refused to yield. Well, it could not be helped; to establish lasting authority, the killing could never cease.

Jin Ming stumbled, nearly falling. How could anyone be so shameless? If someone refused to side with him, Ye Feng immediately smeared their name.

Yet Jin Ming dared not challenge Ye Feng further. That swift attack just now—if the target had been his neck instead of his finger, he would already be dead.

"My Jin family is loyal to the royal house. Do not insult me so!" Jin Ming turned, his voice unwavering, choosing to defend his honor with righteousness.

Ye Feng said nothing, only smiled faintly. Once more, he cast his gaze over the assembled young nobles. Many could not meet his eyes, though a few remained defiant, sipping their tea with cold arrogance.