Chapter Twelve: The Youth Tournament!

“It’s an exceedingly rare skill, one that cannot be attained by effort alone,” Tianling explained.

Zhou Tian smiled placidly. Where was this place? This was the imperial capital, the heart of the Tianqin Empire, where countless people fought tooth and nail to enter. What kinds of geniuses had they not seen here?

He turned his attention to the arena.

The man shrouded in thunder clenched his fist, lightning swirling into a dragon that unleashed a thunderous roar, charging straight for his opponent.

Boom!

The thunder dragon collided with the ancient divine mountain. Blinding blue sparks scattered in all directions, while cracks spread across the earth-yellow mountain. The man beneath the mountain’s weight changed expression; he summoned his energy, runes drifting forth as earthen-yellow chains twined around his body, forming a massive bell that enveloped him completely. It was his Earth Treasury Divine Art, renowned for its formidable defense.

The ancient divine mountain shattered, but the thunder dragon’s momentum did not falter. Lightning laced the air, and the arena trembled.

Just as the thunder dragon was about to crash into the golden bell, a knocking sound—“dong, dong”—interrupted them.

Hearing the knock, Zhou Tian was momentarily stunned. Who could be at the door? Then he realized: someone from Suite One must have learned that Suite Two was now occupied and had come to greet them.

He had planned to pay his respects later, but it seemed the other party had arrived first.

Rising from the sofa, he signaled to Ziyuan to open the door. Tianling also stood, positioning herself at his side.

The door swung open.

Standing outside was a young man clad in resplendent golden robes, his hair gathered beneath a golden crown. He was about the same height as Zhou Tian, with sword-like brows and bright, starry eyes that seemed to carry the brilliance of sun, moon, and stars—a presence both noble and striking. Behind him stood a stern-faced attendant.

Upon seeing Zhou Tian in the hall, the young man’s face lit with a smile as he entered, saying, “My attendants reported that someone had arrived in Suite Two. I was curious which princeling found the leisure to visit, and it turns out to be the heir of the King of Qin!”

Zhou Tian returned the smile, replying, “You jest, Third Prince. I have no leisure at all—unable to cultivate, my days are idle. Since Ling’er is visiting the capital, I’m simply showing her around.”

He subtly elevated the form of address to “Ling’er.”

This young man was none other than Zhou Xunchuan, the third son of Emperor Qin. By age, Zhou Tian ought to address him as cousin.

Zhou Xunchuan simply smiled, betraying no reaction to Zhou Tian’s words. Unable to cultivate? So what? In this world, respect and awe were not obtained by strength alone; status also commanded deference.

Zhou Xunchuan’s gaze shifted to Tianling at Zhou Tian’s side. Tianling offered a formal bow and said softly, “Greetings, Third Prince.”

Zhou Xunchuan nodded and remarked, “This must be Miss Tianling. Zhou Tian, you are truly fortunate. Before long, you’ll be calling her Princess Consort.”

As a bona fide prince, Zhou Xunchuan was well-informed. The imperial edict was yet to be issued, but among the royal scions, news of Zhou Tian’s betrothal was an open secret.

At these words, Ziyuan, standing quietly to the side, couldn’t help but flicker her gaze.

“Third Brother, you’re here for that eighty-victory bout, aren’t you?” Zhou Tian, seeing Tianling flustered and unsure how to respond, deftly changed the topic. Against someone like Zhou Xunchuan, raised within the royal household, Tianling was still too inexperienced.

“Little Tian, you certainly look after her.” Zhou Xunchuan’s words carried a subtle hint, clearly seeing through Zhou Tian’s intentions, but he paid it no further mind and continued, “That was merely a formal greeting. No need for such formal titles in private conversation.”

“You’re right. I came today for that match. My elder brothers, the Crown Prince and King Uncle, are only interested in the ninety-victory duels, but I can’t compete with them for seats, so I had to settle for the eighty-victory bouts.”

With a wry smile, Zhou Xunchuan took a seat on the sofa beside Zhou Tian, his attendant standing behind him. Ziyuan, perceptive as ever, turned off the projection array and quietly withdrew.

By now, the outcome of that match in the arena was forgotten by all.

“I’ve been watching one of the contenders for a long time. He seems quite promising. If he wins today, I intend to bring him under my banner,” Zhou Xunchuan said.

“Then let me wish you success in advance, Third Brother!” Zhou Tian replied with a smile.

Zhou Xunchuan sighed, “It’s not so simple. At this level, every fighter has survived rivers of blood and piles of corpses. I can’t be sure he’ll win.”

“But enough about me. Little Tian, have you set your sights on any promising candidates? The Youth Tournament is approaching—perhaps you could recruit someone to bolster your prestige.”

Zhou Xunchuan’s tone grew more casual as he spoke.

Zhou Tian waved a hand dismissively. “No, Third Brother, I have no interest in these things. But what exactly is this ‘Youth Tournament’ you mentioned?”

The term was foreign to him, and he found no trace of it in his fragmented memories.

“You don’t know?” Zhou Xunchuan was surprised, as if such ignorance were inconceivable. Even Tianling looked at him with a strange expression.

“I don’t,” Zhou Tian admitted honestly.

“Perhaps you never paid attention to such matters before. Better let your future princess explain,” Zhou Xunchuan teased lightly, clearly not minding. He knew Zhou Tian couldn’t cultivate and might not care about such things.

Zhou Tian turned to Tianling, who seemed a little embarrassed—perhaps due to Zhou Xunchuan’s words—but seeing Zhou Tian’s gaze, she composed herself and explained carefully, “The Youth Tournament is an official imperial competition, held for many years, once every four years. It is open to all races aged sixteen to twenty-two. Because of its long history and widespread fame, even young talents from other continents attend. Each tournament produces overnight legends and exposes those of empty reputation. It is a rare and grand spectacle!”

“Exactly,” Zhou Xunchuan nodded. “In recent years, though, its nature has changed somewhat. Each year, top prodigies from other continents come to flaunt their strength, so even we royal scions may have to enter the fray.”

“My two elder brothers are returning soon. Your brothers should also be on their way,” Zhou Xunchuan added.

“Oh? But isn’t the age range sixteen to twenty-four? My brothers must have passed that age long ago,” Zhou Tian said, puzzled. When his two brothers were in their prime, he was too young to remember much—it made no sense for them to be involved in this Youth Tournament.

“The tournament has a traditional feature: in the final rounds, prodigies from other continents often challenge contestants from the previous generation—those of your brothers’ era. So, they’re summoned back to uphold our honor.”