The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness Chapter 498: Shadow of Death

It was a gaunt old man.

His brown skin was wrinkled like the bark of an ancient tree, his body so thin that the outlines of his bones could be clearly seen. There was nothing ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) remarkable about his appearance; he wore only an old, weather-beaten robe that had long since faded to gray.

There was nothing of value on him, only a patched-up, shabby little bag. As an ascetic, he looked plain—so plain that even the poor might disdain him, looking more like a ruined beggar from the Lower District.

But when he sat there in silence, the aura emanating from him pressed down like a mountain, suffocating.

No one in the world would look down on him because of his appearance—because he was King Yintuo.

The Crowned One—King Yintuo.

Muen finally understood why he had felt that sudden jolt of heart palpitations. He had sensed death approaching, but because the gap between his own level and the figure before him was far too great, the premonition had flickered only once before going silent again.

Just like an ant trembling for an instant under the shadow of an eagle, yet not knowing the true form of the terror above.

"King Yintuo?"

Celicia’s expression shifted. As an imperial princess, she naturally recognized that title. As one of the veteran Crowned Ones, King Yintuo himself represented one of the strongest beings in the world.

But why was he here?

A Crowned One entering Belrand—the imperial capital—was absolutely an event that should have triggered massive alarms. The imperial center should have heavily flagged his presence. Yet she, the princess of the empire, knew nothing. What were the imperial intelligence agencies doing?

Or... was it not incompetence, but deliberate concealnt?

Had the intelligence agencies also been infiltrated by those people?

"Didn’t expect it—one of the great Crowned Ones acting as a dog for those people?"

Suppressing his fear, Muen stretched his face into a smile that was not quite a smile. mories of their past encounter surged up—mories of being hunted—still chilling enough to make his scalp prickle.

But this ti, he had no fellow Crowned One at his side to shelter him.

Crack.

The ice shattered.

Celicia’s Divine Favor, falling upon King Yintuo, was like early-winter frost—unable to pose the slightest threat. With just a slight shake of his body, he dissolved it completely.

King Yintuo said calmly:

"What does it an to act as a dog? We rely take what each of us needs."

As he spoke, King Yintuo lifted one hand.

"Since you’re here, then good. Let take back the face I once lost in front of you."

In that instant, there was no hesitation.

Muen’s entire body tightened. His muscles swelled with explosive strength like a hunting leopard’s; thunder roared around his arms. The fast-forward compression of ti made everything seem even briefer, but that blinding flash of blade-light instantly drowned out every faint mote of illumination, filling the entire dark room.

From the mont he saw King Yintuo, Muen had been gathering power.

And now—it burst.

Forty! Layers!

A never-before-used stack of force erupted with full strength. The resilient fabric of Muen’s specially made dress uniform tore apart instantly. The blade-light drawn by his hands was like a descending arc of the moon!

Under that blade-light, everything else dimd.

Even Celicia’s eyes flickered with surprise as she glanced at Muen. She had not expected that in just a few short months, her fiancé—once nothing but a frivolous playboy and useless young master—could now unleash a strike of such magnitude.

But when faced with that overwhelming blow, King Yintuo did not even lift an eyelid. His scar-covered hand slowly pushed forward toward Muen.

Compared to the blade-light that seed capable of slicing open space itself, that seemingly powerless, magicless, qi-less, emaciated hand looked utterly unremarkable—so weak it seed it would be torn apart the next mont.

But it was not the hand that tore.

The mont his hand touched the blade-light, he simply pinched.

Crack.

Like an unremarkable biscuit, or so fragile object crushed between five fingers—compressed, crushed, and then fading into nothing.

The blade-light collapsed instantly.

The hand continued forward.

The room was spacious; a man’s outstretched hand should never have been able to reach soone nearly ten ters away.

But in Muen’s eyes, that hand pressed down like a mountain, close enough to suffocate, giving him no ti to breathe. He was reminded of the sa helplessness he had experienced before.

But this ti, it was direct confrontation—there was nowhere to run.

In desperation, Muen gritted his teeth, crossed both blades before his chest, and took the fatal palm head-on.

Bang.

A dull sound rang out, like a great oxhide drum being shattered by brutal force.

Darkness flashed across Muen’s vision. A massive power he could neither resist nor redirect surged down both blades. His hands buckled almost instantly under the pressure; faint blood-mist seeped from his pores, and his body slid backward.

Fortunately, the crushing force lasted only a heartbeat before easing—but at the sa mont, a familiar faint fragrance brushed his nose.

A small soft hand supported his back. Muen could feel that the touch was exquisite, yet there was no ti to savor it before the delicate body pressed against his, helping share the force.

Celicia staggered back with a muffled sound, but her other hand pointed forward with icy resolve.

"Condense."

"Freeze."

Mana surged. A spell cast without even an incantation took effect instantly. Massive volus of moisture were ripped from the air, and in the next instant, they froze into extre-cold ice.

Under the spell’s support, the Divine Favor from the Snow Goddess surged in strength. Beautiful crystalline ice blood across the entire room; clusters of ice spikes grew like a cage of spears, engulfing King Yintuo in the blink of an eye.

"A follower of the Snow Goddess?"

Within the icy prison, King Yintuo let out a small breath. "No... there’s no power of faith. Judging by this, it’s Divine Favor, isn’t it? So you’re the Empire’s Third Princess?"

"And knowing that, you still don’t step back?"

Celicia’s eyes darkened.

"I don’t care what those people offered you, but striking at an imperial princess and the son of a duke in Belrand—are you prepared to face the Empire’s wrath?"

"It doesn’t matter."

Celicia had expected King Yintuo to retreat when faced with her identity—but she didn’t expect him to remain completely unmoved, saying:

"It doesn’t matter. Whoever you are, this place is completely isolated from the outside world. If I kill you... and him... who will know? You must have hidden yourselves to get here as well, concealing your movents, yes?"

"Besides, what of the Empire’s wrath? The Empire is indeed frightening... but it does not belong to any one person."

"So your identities an nothing to ."

"an nothing at all."

His repeated, calm words drifted like murmurs carried by the wind. But carried with them was not the whisper of peace—

—it was the arrival of despairing killing intent.

King Yintuo raised his hand again. The old scars on his skeletal palm remained unchanged.

The shadow he had just cast off had not even given Muen ti to breathe—

Before it descended once more.