Volume 1, Chapter 45: The Showdown

The imperial family and all the civil and military officials were shocked by the deafening shouts of congratulations.

An army of one million congratulating the Heir Apparent on his grand marriage—such overwhelming momentum was glorious just to imagine.

Yet in the eyes of Li Zaiyuan, this towering momentum was something that had no business appearing before him. Throughout the entire imperial palace and this ancestral temple, only one person was permitted to possess such might, and that was he, the True Dragon Son of Heaven.

Li Zaiyuan’s expression inevitably sank, and he said bluntly:

"Adopted brother, Zhao Wujiang has been somewhat immature over the years, and his reputation leaves much to be desired. I trust you must have heard whispers of this... When it comes to selecting a candidate for the imperial consort, We favor Long Zhan. If Zhao Wujiang can defeat Long Zhan today, We shall consent to his marriage with Yunrui."

The imperial relatives, sitting upon their straw cushions, could feel the majesty and unquestionable authority in the Emperor's tone.

However, since the Prince of Northern Suppression was still alive and had already returned to the capital, could he really be expected to sit idly by and watch his beloved son Zhao Wujiang duel against Long Zhan? That seemed scarcely possible...

On one side stood the imperial decree which could not be disobeyed, and on the other stood his beloved son. How would the Prince of Northern Suppression make his choice?

Given the Prince's temperament and overwhelming aura, surely he would refute the Emperor?

The civil and military officials cast furtive glances into the ancestral temple. They could smell the hair-trigger tension in the air and caught sight of Long Zhan, who was standing beside the Emperor, once again radiating high spirits.

Long Zhan gripped his sword, as if the moment the Prince of Northern Suppression agreed to the Emperor's demand, he would step forward and pierce Zhao Wujiang straight through with a single stroke.

How could Zhao Wujiang ever be a match for Long Zhan? For the sake of his beloved son, the Prince of Northern Suppression would undoubtedly have to rebuff the Emperor.

Everyone had already mentally scripted the Prince's rebuttal, but in the very next instant, they froze in place. They saw the Prince of Northern Suppression nod with absolute earnestness:

"Big Brother makes a sound point.

Wujiang! Give it everything you've got!"

The Prince of Northern Suppression heavily patted Zhao Wujiang on the shoulder:

"You are the son of Zhao Tingxiao; you ought to crush anyone who doubts you and covets what is yours!"

Zhao Wujiang’s face twitched.

In truth, he had also assumed his makeshift father would directly intimidate Long Zhan and put an end to this duel once and for all. Who could have imagined that this cheap old man was actually telling him to fight!

Long Zhan stood beside Li Zaiyuan, his grip on the royal sword tightening as he grew eager to try his hand.

Yet the Prince of Northern Suppression suddenly said in a cold voice:

"A friendly spar should stop at the first sign of victory. If Wujiang sustains any injuries...

This Prince will not let the matter rest."

Even though the Prince's tone was flat, Long Zhan felt an immense wave of pressure wash over him in a split second. The aura of iron-blooded slaughter carried by the Prince was simply too heavy—it was not something he, a sixth-rank martial artist, could withstand just yet.

---

It was only then that Zhao Wujiang gained a deeper understanding of this makeshift father of his.

When it comes to brawling, never show cowardice; when it comes to shielding one's own, do it thoroughly.

"So be it then." Although Li Zaiyuan was displeased by the Prince of Northern Suppression openly threatening Long Zhan to his face, he still said in a deep voice:

"Begin..."

Long Zhan took a deep breath and stepped outside the ancestral temple.

With the Prince of Northern Suppression backing Zhao Wujiang, Long Zhan no longer possessed his previous overbearing arrogance; he even made a polite gesture inviting Zhao Wujiang to make the first move.

The duel between the two broke out in an instant. As blows and kicks exchanged, the officials outside the ancestral temple stepped back to clear space, watching the combat closely while murmuring among themselves.

Zhao Wujiang possessed the strength of a seventh-rank martial artist, while Long Zhan was at the sixth rank, yet the two fought evenly, trading blows back and forth.

This was entirely because Long Zhan kept glancing over at the Prince of Northern Suppression from time to time.

Having the Prince present exerted such crushing pressure upon him that he dared not unleash his true capability, and he hadn't even dared to draw his royal sword.

"Long Zhan, do not disappoint Us."

Right at that moment, Li Zaiyuan’s icy voice rang out. Long Zhan was actually losing his cutting edge amidst the exchange with Zhao Wujiang.

More importantly, in Li Zaiyuan’s mind, Long Zhan’s current performance revealed that he feared the Prince of Northern Suppression far more than he feared the Emperor himself. Could it be that the majesty of him, the True Dragon Son of Heaven, fell short of the Prince of Northern Suppression?

Hearing this, Long Zhan—currently locked in combat with Zhao Wujiang—felt the pressure mount exponentially. The pride and spirit he had suppressed within finally erupted. With a swift grab, he seized the royal sword, and his murderous intent instantly surged several-fold as he slashed a sword-wave directly toward Zhao Wujiang.

Zhao Wujiang barely managed to dodge the fierce sword-qi, his sword-like brows furrowing tightly.

The Prince of Northern Suppression's expression darkened slightly. He could sense that Long Zhan's sword was utterly extraordinary. With Wujiang fighting entirely bare-handed, how could he possibly be a match for Long Zhan? If things continued this way, he would undoubtedly get hurt.

Yet his worry quickly transformed into astonishment.

No sooner had Zhao Wujiang evaded Long Zhan’s initial sword-wave than he abruptly thrust his hand out toward the exterior of the ancestral temple. The next instant, a beam of blood-red light flashed through the air from outside, hurtling directly into Zhao Wujiang's palm to transform into a blood-red sword. A ferocious, baleful aura surged from his arm throughout his entire body.

As a veteran of countless campaigns, the Prince of Northern Suppression recognized the formidable nature of this blood-red sword at a single glance. Its rich aura of slaughter was potent enough to chill a man's soul and afflict his mind merely by its presence.

*How did my son acquire such a divine weapon?*

Upon catching sight of the tyrannical sword in Zhao Wujiang’s hand, Long Zhan was stunned at first, and then a torrent of intense rage flooded his heart.

Had it not been for Zhao Wujiang repeatedly sticking his nose into the matter, the sword in his own hand today would not be a mere royal sword, but the complete Heavenly Sword that held the power of life and death!

Ever since his trip to the Sword-Casting Directorate, his Senior Sister had grown increasingly distant toward him, and she had yet to return even after going back to the sect. All of this was instigated by Zhao Wujiang!

Unleashing his martial prowess to the absolute limit, he gripped the azure-glowing royal sword with all his might and lunged fiercely to pierce Zhao Wujiang.

Zhao Wujiang parried with the tyrannical sword. With a crisp *clang*, the sword-qi was blocked, but the sheer force behind the blow sent him stumbling backward.

In a direct clash of martial arts, he was ultimately still a notch below Long Zhan in cultivation realm.

"Zhao Wujiang, you are destined to lose today!" Long Zhan pressed his advantage, unleashing a flurry of sword-qi that sealed off all of Zhao Wujiang's retreats:

"I have practiced martial arts since childhood and bear the mandate of heaven. What do you have to fight me with!"

Zhao Wujiang was struck by the royal sword's qi once more, forcing him to grit his teeth and absorb the impact relying on the tyrannical sword's power. His breathing grew increasingly heavy.

---

Long Zhan was now assured of his victory, consecutively unleashing several sword-waves that completely blocked Zhao Wujiang's path of retreat.

The civil and military officials watching the spectacle murmured louder and louder, frequently shaking their heads as they looked at Zhao Wujiang.

Even with the Prince of Northern Suppression backing him, Zhao Wujiang's personal strength was ultimately too weak. Compared to the extraordinarily talented Long Zhan, he fell terribly short.

Li Zaiyuan did not display the slightest hint of a smile despite Zhao Wujiang falling into a disadvantageous position and facing imminent defeat. His expression remained cold, though a heavy burden in his heart was finally lifted. Since Zhao Wujiang was bound to lose today, he would simply cancel this betrothed marriage.

As for Zhao Wujiang, now that the Prince of Northern Suppression was back, let him be a mere Heir Apparent...

He was utterly unworthy of ever laying a finger on the position of imperial consort.

Having managed to block Long Zhan's enraged sword strikes one after another, Zhao Wujiang, who had been retreating step by step, suddenly smiled. He offered a heartfelt compliment:

"You truly are formidable."

He did not stint in his praise for his opponent, having clearly gauged the gap between his current strength and Long Zhan's during the battle.

Yet he still held a trump card!

*The Wedding Dress Divine Art!*

Behind the crowd, a clean-faced young eunuch slowly closed her eyes. Everything around her instantly emptied into stillness, leaving only the connection of hearts and inner force shared directly with him.

"Zhao Wujiang, I hope you remember the help I gave you today."

The next instant.

Zhao Wujiang was enveloped in a violent aura. He took a single step backward, but his momentum skyrocketed abruptly in the blink of an eye.

Seventh rank!

Peak of the seventh rank!

Sixth rank!

Peak of the sixth rank!

Fifth rank!

Amidst the shocked gasps of the onlookers, he gripped his sword with both hands and swept upward with his blade qi, directly and forcefully knocking the royal sword from Long Zhan's hand. Following through, he delivered a swift kick straight to Long Zhan's chest, sending him flying backward over a zhang away.

"Impossible!"

Staggering and struggling to steady his posture, Long Zhan stood disheveled... Where on earth did Zhao Wujiang suddenly pull fifth-rank strength from?!

Before he could recover, the crimson sword-light had already slashed down. Long Zhan raised a panicked defense, but the blood-red sword-qi shattered his defenses instantly.

He let out a muffled groan, dropping to one knee while propping himself up with his sword. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were filled with sheer disbelief.

As for the civil and military officials who had been watching the show, they had fallen into absolute, pin-drop silence—before a deafening uproar suddenly erupted across the entire grounds.

"The Heir Apparent has won!"