Fang Cheng Lang and Nangong Jie chatted and laughed along the way as if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. Many Nangong Clan clan members who witnessed this scene looked astonished: although Nangong Jie usually wore a smile and seemed easy to approach, he was still the patriarch’s son, born to stand above others, and they rarely saw him treat anyone with such warmth, much less an outsider with middling cultivation who had only come into view thanks to Nangong Yu’s favor. When their gazes returned to Fang Cheng Lang, a touch of respect had been added.

Sensing the shift in people’s expressions, Fang Cheng Lang felt even more grateful to Nangong Jie: the latter’s public attitude had quietly elevated his standing within the clan, drawing the two of them closer in turn.

A few days later, Nangong Jie invited Fang Cheng Lang to his courtyard for drinks. After three rounds of wine, Nangong Jie suddenly set down his cup with a bitter smile: Brother Fang, do you know, I was born into the Nangong Clan and it looks dazzling from the outside, but each step is hard to take.

Fang Cheng Lang felt a twinge of unease, yet he still asked gently: Brother Nangong, what do you mean?

Nangong Jie shook his head with a wry smile: It’s because of my outstanding elder cousin, Nangong Yin. Father dotes on her. Whatever she does earns his praise. As for me, no matter how hard I try, I’m belittled as good for nothing. Take the Da Qian Alliance selection: clearly both of us are qualified, yet Father refused me again and again and would only let Nangong Yin participate. I… I just want to defeat her once, even once would do. He seemed to realize he had spoken out of turn, so he hurried to raise his cup and apologized to Fang Cheng Lang: I lost control for a moment and said what I shouldn’t. Please don’t take it to heart.

Fang Cheng Lang kept his expression calm and lifted his cup to clink with Nangong Jie’s: Think nothing of it. I understand your mood. Family affairs are complicated. You spoke because your feelings welled up, why would I mind?

Yet when he returned to his quarters, Fang Cheng Lang’s expression cooled. He was no naïve youth; he had naturally heard the deeper note in Nangong Jie’s words. This closeness was not because the other truly valued his potential, but because another purpose lay beneath. He felt a little disappointed. [So I was still too naive.]

Even so, he did not feel much disgust toward Nangong Jie. After all, although he was being used, nothing the man had done had harmed him; on the contrary, it had helped him firmly plant his feet in the Nangong Clan. After a moment’s thought, he decided he would lend Nangong Jie a hand—just a word at the critical moment, nothing more. Whether Nangong Jie could get what he wanted would depend on his own luck.

A piercing crack sounded in the Auspicious Palace. A strikingly handsome man sat at the highest seat, a shattered jade cup clenched in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes burned with fury as he swept his gaze over the subordinates kneeling on the floor: Trash. You can’t even seize that little Yu Zhao—what use is the Auspicious Palace keeping you!

The subordinates kept their heads down, barely daring to breathe, and answered in unison: Please quell your anger, Palace Master. We are incompetent. Please punish us as you see fit.

He flung the shards; the sharp edges scored bloody lines across the faces of the ones in front. They did not dare lift a hand to wipe them, pressing themselves flatter to the ground instead. The Palace Master’s chest heaved even harder; he was clearly livid. He had never imagined that anyone could offend the Auspicious Palace and still get away intact. What angered him more: not only had the operation failed, they had also lost two of his most capable men. Yu Zhao, I truly underestimated you.

In his eyes Yu Zhao herself was nothing more than an ant he could crush with one finger. What was truly fearsome were the people at her side: not only were their backgrounds anything but simple, they were ready to stake their lives to protect her. That baffled him. What was she to them, to make them work for her so willingly? He hesitated. The Auspicious Palace certainly had the strength to grind Yu Zhao to dust, but to clash head-on with other forces over her would not be worth the cost, and who knew what other trump cards she still held? If some unseen power stood behind her and the matter was exposed, the Auspicious Palace would be forced into a passive position.

Since I cannot move in person, let others deal with her instead. He suddenly thought of the recently quiet Earth Clan. They already had grudges with Yu Zhao; if their hands removed her, wouldn’t that be killing two birds with one stone? His plan firmed.

Come! he called.

A subordinate crawled forward on shattered porcelain, kneeling respectfully: What are your orders, Palace Master?

The Palace Master narrowed his eyes, hiding the cold light within: Send word to the Earth Clan, the Wind Clan, and a few other families. Whoever captures the Auspicious Palace’s runaway slave Yu Zhao will receive the next Jade Ruyi candidate’s slot, with twenty top-grade Furnace Cauldrons as a bonus.

The subordinate darted him a startled look, then lowered his head at once: Yes. I will see it done.

The Palace Master’s lips curled into a cold smile as his fingers tapped the armrest: Yu Zhao, you think those people shielding you mean you can sleep peacefully? I want to see whether they can stand against several families working together. Those who offend the Auspicious Palace never come to a good end.

Xiu Yu pointed to the emerald planet ahead: That should be the Black Territory where the Giant Spirit Bear Beastkin live.

Old Black Daoist narrowed his eyes at it, then turned back to ask, a little nervous: How should we proceed—charge straight in, or show courtesy before force?

Sui Bian glared at him: All you ever think about is fighting. Can’t you use your head? What if we hurt someone from the Giant Spirit Bear tribe and they fly into a rage and kill Bookworm?

Old Black Daoist had no reply and shut his mouth, disgruntled.

According to what we heard, the Beastkin are quite xenophobic, said Ling Long. Storming the door would be unwise.

But if we don’t go to them, how will they ever see us? someone asked.

Ling Long’s brows drew together; her gaze swept the starship’s cabin and finally settled on Yu Zhao, who was on tiptoe peeking out. Her brows eased and she said: I know what to do.