Chapitre 17: Chapter 17
"But I understand," Lianchen said, his tone mockingly gracious as he leaned back with a faint smirk. "I will allow your three clans to come under my rule. It's the best deal you'll ever get. After all, I'm a genius."
He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before continuing with an air of exaggerated pity. "Honestly, I'm losing out here by taking trash like you under my wing. After all, I'd have to take care of you, clean up after your messes... It's hardly worth my time."
The faces of the Su, Lu, and Mo clan members darkened, their rage palpable. Lianchen's audacity was like a slap to their pride, his condescending tone making it clear just how low he thought of them. Yet, the oppressive weight of the Emperor's gaze and the smirking prince's unshakable confidence kept them in check.
"Return our clan treasures, and we can talk," the Mo Clan ancestor said, his tone measured as he struggled to keep his composure. "We can even pledge our support for you to become the next Emperor."
He tried his best to sound calm and reasonable, masking the fury simmering beneath his words. 'This is just a child,' he reminded himself, 'maybe such tactics will work.'
The faint glimmer of hope in his voice betrayed his desperation. He knew the stakes were high, and negotiating with someone as unpredictable as Lianchen required both patience and strong willpower.
"Like I said, I don't have anything belonging to the Mo Clan," Lianchen said, his voice calm but dripping with mockery. "I didn't even step foot on Mo Clan territory. You're nothing more than a lost dog, barking up the wrong tree, searching for a cat that doesn't exist… embarrassing."
His words cut deep, his tone designed to provoke and provoke they did. The Mo Clan members' faces darkened with renewed fury, their fists clenched as they struggled to contain their rage.
It was almost as if Lianchen was daring them to snap, to cross the line and try to strike him down. And for a brief moment, they wondered, was it worth it? Could they endure this humiliation any longer, or would they take the risk, no matter the consequences?
At that moment, a maid approached and bowed respectfully. "Your Highness, someone has arrived at the gate's entrance," she announced.
I waved my hand casually. "Let them in," I said. Moments later, under the stunned gaze of the Mo Clan head, Mo Ye stepped into the room.
The young man froze in his tracks the instant he took in the scene before him, his father, the Mo Clan head, surrounded by many powerful experts. Their eyes turned to him, sharp and unforgiving, as the weight of the situation hit him like a tidal wave, he wanted to leave right away... but it was too late.
"So, you're the one responsible for the demon beast attack," Lianchen said smoothly, rising from his seat with an air of authority. His gaze locked onto Mo Ye, who stiffened as every word struck like a whip. "And I see you've brought along many treasures belonging to the Mo Clan. Such evil has no place in this young master's home."
Lianchen's tone was sharp, yet his expression betrayed a hint of mockery as he walked toward Mo Ye. The old man's eye twitched with every word, barely holding his composure under the intense scrutiny.
Meanwhile, the clan members of the Su, Lu, and Mo Clans stood frozen, their lips twitching as they struggled to process the scene unfolding before them. The Mo Clan head, however, was anything but calm. His face darkened, his fury barely contained as the realization struck him, his son might have betrayed the clan and colluded with Lianchen.
The Mo Clan head's shock deepened as Lianchen strode confidently toward Mo Ye. Without hesitation, Lianchen slapped a hand against Mo Ye's chest, a sharp impact that reverberated through the room.
A collective gasp arose as a dark gas erupted from Mo Ye's body, swirling violently before coalescing into the brief, terrifying shape of a demonic figure. Its form was grotesque and shadowy, its anguished cry sending chills down everyone's spine. The figure writhed in pain before vanishing into nothingness, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.
The display was so vivid, so lifelike, that anyone watching from a distance might have believed it to be real. But the Su, Lu, and Mo Clan members were close enough to see the truth. This was no demonic soul or whatever that thing was. It was a carefully crafted trick, orchestrated by Lianchen and Mo Ye.
"Well," Lianchen began, his tone serious as he took a step back, folding his arms thoughtfully. "It seems your body was taken over by an evil being intent on framing this prince. How tragic."
He glanced at the dark gas's fading remnants before turning back to Mo Ye, who stood frozen and speechless. "That must have been the thing that stole the treasures from the three clans," Lianchen continued, his voice growing heavier with righteous indignation. "All just to tarnish this prince's noble and righteous name."
He sized up Mo Ye with an exaggeratedly critical gaze as if deciding whether the young man still posed a threat. His words hung in the air, their absurdity mingling with the uncomfortable silence, leaving the clan members dumbfounded.
The Mo Clan ancestor suddenly coughed violently, throwing up a mouthful of blood. His face turned ashen, his fury and disbelief overwhelming him. What did Lianchen mean by claiming he was being framed? Hadn't he all but admitted to being involved in the thefts from the Su and Lu clans?
If Lianchen was truly being framed, then how in the heavens did he get his hands on those other treasures? The logic was maddening, a cruel joke played out before him. And to make matters worse, his own blood, seemed to be working with the enemy.
To think that such absurd nonsense dared to unfold before his very eyes, mocking his intelligence and authority. The humiliation and rage churned within him, threatening to spill over as the scene continued to defy all reason.
"Quickly, get this man out of my sight!" Lianchen commanded with a righteous air, holding up Mo Ye's storage ring as if it were evidence of a great crime. "I shall personally inspect this storage ring to ensure there are no demonic items hidden within."
With a serious expression that contrasted sharply with the absurdity of his words, Lianchen pocketed the storage ring. Meanwhile, Lan Mei, who was barely managing to hold back a smile, stepped forward and guided the bewildered Mo Ye inside.
The clans watched in stunned silence, the audacity of Lianchen's actions leaving them at a loss for words. It was as though reality itself had been twisted, with Lianchen at the center of his own farcical play.
"Well, I must tend to this pressing matter," Lianchen said, turning his attention back to the three clan heads with a look of exaggerated solemnity. "It will take quite some time to thoroughly inspect the treasures... oh, I mean, to carefully examine this storage ring."
He paused, offering them a polite, almost benevolent smile. "I ask for your understanding in this delicate task. After all, ensuring there's nothing demonic within is for the good of us all."
The Su, Lu, and Mo clan heads stared at him, their faces darkening further as the thinly veiled mockery in his tone became clear. Their restraint was stretched to its limit, but Lianchen's unshakable confidence left them helpless to act.
"Lianchen..." The Mo clan heads growled, their voices trembling with barely contained fury as killing intent began to seep from their bodies, thick and oppressive. How could they tolerate such mockery? How could they endure this humiliation?
"Oh, I almost forgot," Lianchen said, his tone light and conversational. "Please bring me your vaults. It would really help speed up my work… honestly, I should have just taken them in the first place."
He muttered the last part to himself but deliberately loud enough for everyone to hear as if their opinions didn't matter. The sheer audacity was another slap to their already bruised pride.
But what could they do? Faced with a 6-year-old child who wielded such overwhelming authority, could they lash out? And with this child being the Emperor's most beloved, dare they even try? Their frustration boiled beneath the surface, their helplessness leaving their anger to fester in silence.
But the rage was too much, too hateful, too enraging. In their boiling fury, they forgot those very facts.
In a flash, the Mo Clan ancestor materialized before Lianchen, his sword gleaming like a streak of lightning as it sliced through the air toward the boy's head. His movements were fueled by unrestrained wrath, each motion radiating the intent to kill. The room seemed to freeze, the sheer intensity of his fury shaking everyone present.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone