your
Qingyi did not rush his steps, nor did he try to hide or take soone else's place in line.
He just kept walking along the side, in an area that was supposed to be reserved for employees and authorized personnel only.
Everyone there carried a special jade token on their chest or in their hands.
For Qingyi to be there without this token, he must have wanted to cut in front of everyone!
Did he have any idea how difficult it was to get a chance to enter the main branch of the Five-Color Pavilion? Even so imperial nobles had to wait in line!
Who the hell did that bastard think he was?
Just as Qingyi reached the middle of the line, he was forced to stop, feeling a hand grab his shoulder.
It was a young man, clearly noble and talented, displaying a jade token on his chest. It was the sa token that anyone who didn't want to wait in line should have.
From the scriptures engraved on it, that young man had received it from the Third Young Master.
"Who the hell do you think you are, bastard? Are those horns on your head at least real? Dragons are supposed to be intelligent, right? Do you think you can just walk in here without permission?" The young man roared angrily, putting a little more force into his grip on Qingyi's shoulders.
Admiring glances fell on his back, which only further inflated his ego. He loved these looks, and he was certainly more than happy to have
received this position as a reward for his loyal work to the Third Young Master.
[Do you want to go out and have soone break this filthy pig's legs for you?] ilin asked through Qingyi's connection with Ruxue. 'No... I'm in need of a little drama after such a long journey! Qingyi shook his head, ignoring the young man almost completely.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" The arrogant young man insisted, moving his Qi through his body, his eyes falling on the sword Qingyi carried at his waist.
He probed Qingyi once, and his eyes filled with amusent when he sensed nothing.
Was Qingyi a mortal pretending to be a Young Dragon Master to infiltrate here?
Admiring the beauty of that sword, the young man's eyes filled with greed.
"And weapons are prohibited unless authorized. I'm going to... confiscate yours." The young man's hands imdiately lunged toward the Heaven-Defying Thunder Sword, trying to grab it.
Unfortunately for him, the second before he touched the beautiful hilt of the blade, his body froze and one of Qingyi's hands fell on his wrist.
"You know... I would just rip out your tongue and break your legs, but..." Qingyi moved his free hand to his shoulders, wiping the part touched by the arrogant young man.
"Since you insist." In the next mont, he swung his hand toward the young man's face.
It was not a quick or aggressive movent.
It was more like he was swatting away an insect, his hand cutting through the air slowly until it reached the young man's face.
Imdiately, a sharp crack echoed, followed by a powerful explosion of blood and screams. The young nobleman's body exploded like a mosquito, painting the walls surrounding that place red.
Everyone around was drenched in blood, running in despair.
Everyone except Qingyi.
Not a single drop of blood even ca close to splattering on his black robes. In his hand, he carried the only thing left of the young
nobleman: his severed wrist.
"Young Master Zhao? No!" A roar echoed from behind Qingyi. Dozens of guards suddenly appeared, quickly surrounding him, almost all of them Immortal Emperors.
"You bastard, you'll pay for this!" The oldest and most powerful among them roared, swinging his sword toward Qingyi's neck, who barely
reacted.
A gentle smile spread across his handso face, and he pointed downward.
"Fall."
His voice, noble, masculine and gentle, echoed like the whisper of a God of Death, and imdiately, the air around him changed.
A powerful pressure fell upon the shoulders of his attackers, and the ground beneath their feet cracked as they were forced to prostrate themselves, their foreheads striking the bloodstained marble with
deafening thuds.
Qingyi remained silent, feeling his heart race.
Power hadn't corrupted him, right?
No... impossible.
That Young Master Zhao had chosen to rob Qingyi the mont he
thought he was weak.
How much harm must he have done to people without the power or
support to fight back?
A man corrupted by power oppressed the weak, but Qingyi only oppressed the strong. Therefore, he was not a man corrupted by
power.
With a soft grunt, he continued walking toward the central gates, stepping over Young Master Zhao's guards and ignoring the
frightened stares.
The guards protecting the central gates were already prepared to send out a general attack alert throughout the branch, their weapons
firmly in their fists.
They were both Ancestral Emperors with powerful domains, but whoever that young dragon was, they did not dare to underestimate
him.
Fortunately, none of that was necessary.
Beside the handso young man, a figure appeared. Beautiful and delicate, with a face like a porcelain doll, so perfect that it didn't even
seem real.
The guards relaxed and knelt imdiately, watching as the woman grabbed the young dragon's hand.
"Young Miss ilin! Young Master Qingyi! Your father is waiting." They
bowed their heads.
Fortunately, they had been warned in advance that Jin ilin and Long Qingyi were coming and would likely arrive that day. None of that chaos would have happened if ilin had simply appeared beside Qingyi at the beginning, but not that either of them
felt bad about it.
In the end, Young Master Zhao had been disrupting their work for months, and well, he got what he deserved.
Waving for the guards to stand up, ilin walked through the gates,
entering the spacious and luxurious central courtyard of the Five
Colors Pavilion's main branch.
"Was that young man your third brother's follower?" Qingyi asked,
relaxing.
"Yes, and knowing him, I'm sure he'll try to collect that debt from you..." ilin said beside Qingyi. "Just don't cripple him, okay? His personality sucks, but his talent is still valuable to Father."
"Hm... you silly girl really know your husband, huh?" The handso young man chuckled, observing the courtyard.
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