Chapter Seventy-Five: Jun Feng

“So this is how you treat your guests in Tianqin?” Jun Feng ignored Zhou Tian’s words and instead addressed Zhou Yan directly, completely disregarding Zhou Tian.

“That depends on whether the visitor is a guest,” Zhou Yan replied, calm as still water, meeting Jun Feng’s gaze without yielding an inch.

“It’s said that the Crown Prince of Qin in your imperial capital doesn’t regard the people of our Great Luo Academy at all?” Jun Feng soon redirected his attention to Zhou Tian, his eyes sharp as blades.

“I don’t regard Great Luo Academy, but I keep it close to my heart,” Zhou Tian answered, locking eyes with Jun Feng. Despite his effort to stay serious, the longer he looked, the more surreal it felt; those violet eyes resembled colored contact lenses, and he recalled someone else who wore green lenses last time—more eccentric than this man.

Jun Feng was silent for a moment, perhaps surprised at Zhou Tian’s shamelessness. Even he found it hard to utter such words about keeping Great Luo Academy in his heart.

“You’re all talk, as expected. This is the eight provinces tournament, not your Tianqin imperial capital’s greenhouse—there’s no one here to protect you constantly. If all you do is talk, you won’t survive for long!” Jun Feng changed the subject. He didn’t believe any rumors about ‘making a Saint King kneel with a single word.’ Scholar Li had kept silent, unwilling to discuss the matter. The Saint King’s realm was reached only after countless trials, with power to overturn the heavens and seas—how could he be forced to kneel by a mortal? Clearly, someone from Tianqin must have manipulated things behind the scenes.

“You needn’t worry about my survival. You’d do better to concern yourself with your own people. With some of their intelligence, they might not survive long at all,” Zhou Tian retorted, sharp as knives. With unwelcome guests at the door, he naturally had to be even more unwelcoming to put them in their place.

“Mind your manners!” Before Jun Feng could reply, one of the four youths behind him shouted harshly.

“Who are you saying won’t survive long with their intelligence?” His gaze burned fierce, youthful and proud, his face still bearing traces of innocence. His parents held considerable prestige in Great Luo Academy, and he himself was outstanding among his peers, otherwise Jun Feng wouldn’t have brought him along. Since childhood, no one had dared speak to him so sarcastically.

“Whoever interrupts, I mean them,” Zhou Tian answered without a hint of fear. Eyes ablaze—so what? Who was he trying to intimidate?

“You… dare to fight me?” The youth’s wit was sharper than before; he didn’t waste time arguing with Zhou Tian, aware of his own strengths, and issued a direct challenge. Here in Tian Guan, not Tianqin’s imperial capital, nobody feared anyone.

Zhou Yan and Jun Feng remained composed, as if the matter before them had nothing to do with them.

“A challenge? Fine, but first, defeat my little brother,” Zhou Tian patted Zhou Zui beside him, signaling him to step forward.

“Me? Since when did I become your…” Zhou Zui, who’d been enjoying the spectacle, was taken aback and about to protest. But seeing Zhou Tian mouth the word “shut—” his head drooped, and he approached listlessly.

“My big brother’s behind me. If you want to challenge him, you’ll have to get through me first!”

“Hmph, little tricks are useless before absolute strength. Come!” The young man’s vitality surged, his slightly immature face radiated confidence, and light gleamed from his body. His fists clenched, exuding a bold, unstoppable aura.

Zhou Tian’s expression grew wistful. Youth was wonderful; he wished he could be this full of dramatic spirit, but the art of being a slacker was simply too good.

“Zeyuan, don’t be reckless!” Jun Feng frowned slightly, stopping Zeyuan, whose fighting intent was burning. This junior had many virtues, but was too hot-blooded. Hadn’t he noticed that the other youths beside him hadn’t spoken?

Zeyuan looked unwilling, but seeing Jun Feng’s stern gaze, he retreated.

Jun Feng then spoke to Zhou Yan, “Since when did the heir of the Carefree King become the little brother of the Crown Prince of Qin?” His tone was full of provocation.

Zhou Yan was unmoved, his demeanor ethereal, replying calmly, “Since when did a formal invitation become a challenge?”

Jun Feng’s face darkened; this was precisely why he’d stopped Zeyuan just now. Great Luo Academy valued propriety above all. If, after sending an invitation, they arrived to challenge their hosts, word would spread unfavorably.

“I’ll make sure to deliver a challenge soon!”

“Brother Jun Feng, there’s no need for such anger. We’ll depart in three days. If something goes wrong in a fight now, it could greatly affect our performance in the eight provinces tournament.” Zhou Yan, worthy of his title as the second prince, had received royal education since childhood. Moments ago, he’d been arguing with Jun Feng, now he addressed him as ‘brother.’

Jun Feng’s violet eyes glimmered, but he’d lost the composure he’d arrived with; he felt as if he’d been led by the nose since stepping in. Yet Zhou Yan’s words made sense—Zeyuan was one of Great Luo Academy’s favored competitors. If something happened in battle, their team would lose a major strength.

“Prince Yan is indeed worthy of his name. I hope you can maintain this composure when the tournament begins.” Jun Feng rose to his feet, turned, and left without another word to Zhou Tian. The four youths followed; three of them remained indifferent, paying little attention to Zhou Tian. In their minds, dragons and snakes do not mingle.

Only Zeyuan shot Zhou Tian a cold glare, leaving a harsh warning: “Don’t let me see you in the Forsaken Land!”

After they left, Zhou Yan waved his hand. “Don’t just stand around. None of you are easy to manage.”

Zhou Tian and his companions smiled and left the hall as well.

At that moment, Zhou Tian only wanted to sleep. He cast off Zhou Zui’s excuse of ‘training’—which was really just an excuse to see pretty girls—and returned to his room to rest. He didn’t pay much attention to what the others were doing.

He slept until afternoon. Upon waking, he received news: the second batch of Tianqin arrivals had come, but they were nobodies whose names Zhou Tian hadn’t even heard. Tian Ling had not yet arrived.

That evening, Zhou Tian once again went out courting trouble. As before, he found his way to the shadowy workshop, but this time, things went awry. During his teleportation entry, his luck failed and he was discovered instantly.

A flash of silver, a sharp blade pinned him to the wall. The sword was no ordinary weapon; its fierce energy tore his body apart, crimson blood streaming down the hilt. Zhou Tian didn’t even get a chance to utter a sound before he was dead.

But after reviving this time, Zhou Tian resolved a lingering doubt: what would happen if he revived while carrying someone else’s weapon? Like today, impaled by another’s sword.

Upon resurrection, the silver blade embedded in his chest vanished completely. He guessed the system must have destroyed it, for the sword’s owner spat blood, clearly wounded.

The weapon was connected to his spirit; now, with its destruction, he suffered heavy injury. Unfortunately, by the time he recovered, Zhou Tian had already disappeared.