"You are a coward, father!"

"You are weak, son, whereas I am the king of this realm," the King stood. The little prince's mortal body could not withstand the full weight of his qi pressure, and he sprawled on the floor like a man crushed by an invisible boulder. "In this world, power is everything. And while I would love to dote on you, there are several matters that cannot be negotiated."

"I am not weak!" Beifeng shouted from his sprawling position, vehemently trying to face the king. "I am merely choosing not to cultivate."

"An excuse," the king sneered. "Do not hide behind your choices. You are my son, true, but you are also a mortal. While your position is high, it is because you were lucky enough to be born my son. Stop thinking about this nonsense. I will not grant you the means to achieve this foolish revenge."

Hua Beifeng snarled like a beast, and a dark thought crossed the king's mind. Should he kill his son? It would be the easiest way to deal with him. After all, while revenge was a good motivator, with eyes that held such intensity, it would be quite hard to control him.

"You cultivators are morons!" Hua Beifeng shouted. "Cultivators do not have the right to think they are better than everyone else. Cultivation is not art. It is not complex. It is essentially just absorbing energy and making it your own. It is so simple even an animal can do it!"

"Life revolves around power, not art," the king exclaimed.

"Which is why this whole world is filled with morons who do not understand the beauty of my painting! This world is full of barbaric people like you! And it is unfortunate that we, artists, are considered nothing compared to cultivators. Father, you said that you would not help me? Fine, I will do it myself!"

"You and what power?" the king asked. "You are merely a mortal. Without me, you are nothing."

"Aren't you the one who said it yourself? Life revolves around power. It's moronic, but I can play that game."

Hua Zenyuan's eyebrows rose. What did that mean? Did that mean Beifeng had decided to become a cultivator? Such a joke. If becoming a cultivator was that easy, the world would be filled with immortals. Still, he thought he had conveyed his thoughts sufficiently. His true temper had shown for a moment there, but it was acceptable. A truly benevolent king was weak. Sometimes, he needed to show his true self to remind people that he was the king, that he had the power to end their lives. He needed to redirect this conversation so he could guide Beifeng's anger toward strengthening the kingdom. Before he could speak however, he felt a fluctuation of qi around Beifeng.

"Cultivation is easy. It is not like art, which needs to be mastered for a lifetime." The qi danced chaotically around him, but soon, this chaotic dance became uniform. It created a whirlpool of qi with his youngest son at its center. "It is easy, so easy. Why does everyone think so highly of it?"

The qi became stronger and stronger, and then it lifted the pressure he had pressed upon his son. At first, he knelt, but soon, he stood. His red eyes bored into the king, and the intense feeling he emitted even made the king's body shiver. What was this reaction? His youngest son was not a cultivator. He had never learned the theory of it, let alone touched qi, yet, the qi swirled around him as if eager to obey their master.

"It is easy," Beifeng said, and the unthinkable happened.

His youngest son, a mortal who had never shown any interest in cultivation, who had holed himself inside his room for years to perfect his painting, skipped all the preparation to become a cultivator and opened the first lock of his cultivation. WIld river of qi began to surge inside his body.

"This is..." The king was speechless. Bile rose in his throat. That breakthrough was so smooth, so easy, it felt like a dream. Such smooth breakthroughs were not unheard of, but even he, one of the most talented cultivators of his generation, had had a little trouble opening his first lock.

The king began to consider the implications. Maybe, just maybe, Beifeng was not only a genius painter, but also a genius cultivator. If he nurtured this talent, then his plan would advance much, much faster.

But then, something truly mind-boggling happened. Hua Beifeng's qi became more and more intense, and then, just like that, he opened the second lock. The king's eyes widened in horror. How? That was impossible! The qi that swirled around him was quite substantial, but not enough to break through to open the second lock.

As if Beifeng understood his thoughts and wanted to spite him, he rapidly opened his remaining locks. Third stage, fourth stage, fifth stage, sixth stage. Each time he opened his locks, the qi around him intensified, to the point that even the king's back began to sweat, his eyes wide open, and his mind could not comprehend what the heck just happened. Right now, red-colored qi swirled around his youngest son, his red eyes shone with an eerie light.

"Yu Yongrui," Hua Beifeng whispered, "I will kill him with or without your support, father."

And then, as if it were a statement, the kid who only a minute ago had been a mere mortal successfully opened the seventh lock, making him a Lock Opening cultivator on the cusp of breaking through to the Core Splitting Realm.

At this point, the king realized that he had been sorely mistaken in his approach to educating his children. He should have tested all his children's aptitude for cultivation, even if they vehemently rejected becoming cultivators. Regret washed over him as if he had just been splashed by a bucket of cold water. If Beifeng's talent had been cultivated from when he was a little kid—no, since birth—then right now, the Azure Soil Kingdom would have already soared. Beifeng's talent was greater even compared to core disciples from the Purple Moon Sect, and while his presence alone could not achieve his ultimate goal to surpass the Purple Moon Sect, his goal would be so much closer than his kingdom's current situation.

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Talent was a thing bestowed directly by the heavens. And it seemed his youngest son was a genius among geniuses. No, genius among geniuses was not adequate. There was a better word to describe his talent.

"Monster," he muttered.

Beifeng's eyes shone with an eerie red light, and the air around him suddenly became cold and the smell of blood permeated the air, as if the throne room were a place where thousands of people had just recently been beheaded. Such strong killing intent.

As the king felt goosebumps all over his body, he realized that nothing would stop his son from enacting his revenge toward Yu Yongrui. That disciple of the Purple Moon Sect probably had pride as high as the sky, but the king could see the fate of that disciple was in the hands of a cultivator who a moment ago had just been a mortal.

"See? It's so fucking easy! It's nothing compared to my painting!"

The king racked his mind. He was suddenly in a difficult situation. On one side, he had his monstrous son probably capable of becoming an Immortal, but on the other side was the Purple Moon Sect. While he would agree that his son was the most talented cultivator he had ever seen—no, in this entire kingdom's history—killing a disciple of the Purple Moon Sect was still not an easy matter.

He needed to devise something that would ensure his son would stay loyal to him, which meant supporting his revenge, as well as ensure that his kingdom would not be trampled because his son dared to touch a disciple from the great sect.

He thought for a moment and realized a way to navigate this situation. The death of a Purple Moon Sect disciple would spell trouble if the perpetrator was an outsider, but if the one who killed Yu Yongrui was another disciple, then the matter would be easier.

"I admit, I was wrong to think that you were not this talented. I am proud of you." He paused. "Still, enacting revenge will be hard, even with your talent. They say that disciples from the great sects are stronger than us even if we are at the same realm, and I doubt even with your talent, you can kill Yu Yongrui."

"It's just swinging a sword, how hard can it be?" Beifeng spat.

"Oh, it is hard. Truly hard. That is why some people call mastering a sword an art." He paused. "I am not trying to dissuade you. But you need to understand that killing a disciple of that sect would spell trouble not just for you, but for my entire kingdom as well. So, I propose a simple idea."

Beifeng narrowed his eyes. "Does this mean that you will support me?"

"Yes."

"Then what is your idea, father?"

"Go to the Purple Moon Sect, become a disciple there, and then, you can kill Yu Yongrui. This way, not only will you achieve your revenge, but Azure Soil Kingdom, your birthplace, will not get into trouble."

Sending his son to the Purple Moon Sect had quite a lot of merits. Not only would his son have optimal resources to allow him to bloom into a formidable cultivator but he, as his father, would gain so much influence that he could use it to hasten his plan. There were also demerits to it. After all, it would be better if talent such as Beifeng's was nurtured in-house. But the merits far eclipsed the demerits.

Beifeng stroked his chin. The red qi that swirled around him began to recede, as if he were considering his proposal. The king understood that his son was actually trying to deceive him. Beifeng certainly had monstrous talent and was a genius painter, but his thought patterns and expressions were as easy to read as an open book. The king knew Beifeng would pretend to agree with his proposal. After all, Beifeng had already gotten what he wanted, which was support from him. The simplest plan that Beifeng probably conjured would be to pretend to go to the Purple Moon Sect, while in reality, he would search for Yu Yongrui and try to kill him as soon as possible. Then, after that, he probably would come back and continue being a painter, wasting his talent.

"All right, father, I will do as you told me. I will go to the Purple Moon Sect and become their disciple. In turn, I want all your support."

"I will support you as long as it is not unreasonable."

Beifeng agreed and decided to end their meeting, and the king said that Beifeng could go to the Royal Library and read everything he needed regarding cultivation, techniques, and everything that could make him stronger. Despite his disdain for cultivators as a whole, it seemed power had already affected him. The king knew with certainty that Beifeng would want to use the power he had just gained to kill Yu Yongrui.

Sitting on his throne, the king caressed his temple. This unexpected development gave him a slight headache. A rare occurrence, since usually things always aligned with his predictions. He knew that Beifeng would try to kill Yu Yongrui before he became a disciple of the Purple Moon Sect, and the result of this conflict was only two. Either Yu Yongrui would die and his kingdom would face repercussions, or his son would die and he would lose a great asset.

"Thirteen, come out," the king said.

Instantly, one of his retainers materialized from thin air as if a specter. Thirteen was the strongest of the Ghost Division and he had a mild temperament and a calculative mind. Currently, he was the best candidate to deal with this trouble.

"I want you to deliver Beifeng to the Purple Moon Sect. Drug him, paralyze him, or do anything that will ensure he doesn't make any trouble on the way there. If needed, use extreme violence. Make sure that he realizes that even if he is a monster, there are still people better than him." The crux of the problem was how to make him a disciple of the Purple Moon Sect as soon as possible. With Beifeng's age and his current stage, even if he was a monstrous talent, there was a small chance that he would be rejected by the Purple Moon Sect.

Thirteen slightly bowed his head, indicating that he understood his order perfectly. He would ensure his mission was completed or he would be dead. Then, like a ghost, he disappeared as if reality decided that Thirteen had never existed. The Ghost Division was effective. They were expert assassins, but even the king understood that their capabilities were limited. The king just hoped that everything could be done as smoothly as planned.

He closed his eyes and tried to predict the worst future and plan accordingly. He was called the Patient King, and while he had many facets, that title actually suited him. He would plan, and plan, and plan. He thought he was the wisest king to have graced the Azure Soil Kingdom, but reality was not always aligned with his opinions.

In a faint shadow cast by the illumination of his throne, there was a small dot of shadow that was darker than its surroundings. It was so small that even a cultivator would find it quite hard to perceive, and even if they saw it, they would assume it was a little insignificant dot that was not worth their time. Hua Zenyuan would certainly think so, which in reality was very significant.

There was a person connected to this dot of shadow, and this person was currently sitting facing a bonfire, a bowl of vegetable soup in his hands, and he ate it so greedily as if he were a starving dog. All around him, people sang and danced as if there were no tomorrow, and even as he stuffed his bowl, he sang along, sometimes choking, and everyone would laugh at him, and he would laugh with them. This seemingly small and insignificant man, who had wandered into a mercenary camp and asked for food, was none other than Hao Yun, the son of the patriarch of the Purple Moon Sect as well he Devil Kid who was barely ten years old, yet had influence greater than the mightiest emperor who had ever lived in Azure Soil Kingdom history.

There was no deep reason why he infiltrated this little camp and asked for food. It's just for his amusement. Though when the conversation between Hua Zenyuan and Hua Beifeng occurred, he slightly focused on their interesting conversation.

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