The atmosphere in the Feather Hall was thick with intrigue, yet Jun Mo Xie waltzed in as if he owned the place. He fanned himself lazily, taking in the lavish decorations and the flickering candlelight reflecting off the wine glasses.
The scent of burning incense mixed with the faint fragrance of expensive perfumes, but the most expensive thing in the room? The egos of its occupants.
The Second Prince took back his extended hand, his smile forced but polite. "Ha ha! Let's throw aside all formalities! Our families have been friends for generations, after all. Ah, I still remember the days when we used to play together as children."
His tone was warm, but the meaning behind his words was clear—Don't get ahead of yourself, Jun Mo Xie. I am a prince. You? Just a noble brat.
Jun Mo Xie stroked his chin, pretending to reminisce. "Ah, yes, yes… such memories. How time flies."
He sighed dramatically, then turned away as if he had already lost interest. I barely remember your name, much less playing with you, but sure, let's pretend.
But his attention quickly shifted. He could feel them—four pairs of eyes boring into him. He didn't even need to look. Their gazes carried contempt, curiosity, and maybe even a little hostility.
Oh? Who do we have here? The royal prince's pet dogs?
The Second Prince waved a hand, introducing the four men standing stiffly beside him. "Little Brother, let me introduce some of my esteemed friends. You probably know some of them."
Jun Mo Xie lazily glanced at them, his expression unreadable. Let's see what kind of circus this is going to be.
"This is my esteemed teacher, Hong Wen University's great scholar, Fang Bo Wen." The prince's voice carried deep respect, as if the mere mention of the name was an honor.
Fang Bo Wen, an elderly man with a neatly combed beard, smiled kindly, stroking his long whiskers. "Ah, I am but an old man with some ink-stained fingers, nothing more."
His voice was humble, but his sharp eyes gave him away.
This was no ordinary scholar.
His aura was restrained, yet Jun Mo Xie could sense it—Qi—a deep, hidden force coiled within the man's frail-looking body.
Hoh? A scholar or a snake?
Jun Mo Xie nodded slightly, a small smirk creeping onto his lips. "A renowned university scholar indeed… a man of both words and wisdom. How admirable."
Fang Bo Wen's smile twitched slightly. He had caught the subtle dig.
The Second Prince continued, gesturing towards another man. "This is Lord Liu. A rare breed, master of both pen and sword."
Jun Mo Xie's gaze flickered over the man. He was tall, his stance solid—no, too solid. His legs were spread slightly apart in an awkward stance, as if he was subconsciously trying to ease some discomfort.
Jun Mo Xie's lips curled mischievously. "Lord Liu has a very… unique way of standing. Gee, even with his legs spread so wide, he's still standing so tall. Quite the feat, ah."
Lord Liu's face turned an alarming shade of red.
The room tensed.
Jun Mo Xie had hit a nerve.
The man's mind seemed to momentarily wander—clearly, something had happened to him in the past.
But before he could react, Jun Mo Xie continued, casually flipping his hair. "Ah, Lord Liu, I can already tell we'll be great friends. You must be the type of man who appreciates true handsomeness. And I am—sigh—far too handsome. Other men see me and immediately feel inferior. It's tragic, really. But don't worry, I'll still take you out for drinks later. We can bond over your suffering."
Everyone was stunned.
The sheer level of shamelessness…
The narcissism…
Even the Second Prince, who had expected Jun Mo Xie to be arrogant, was taken aback.
Lord Liu's expression darkened. Befriend this arrogant brat? Over my dead body!
Jun Mo Xie's eyes then landed on the third man.
"Third Young Master Jun, I have heard of your reputation, and I must say, you live up to it! You are indeed… unique." The man's lips curled into a mocking smile. "I am Cheng De Cao."
Jun Mo Xie lazily raised an eyebrow. "Cheng De Cao?"
He tilted his head, pretending to think. Then he simply waved a hand dismissively. "Never heard of you."
The air in the room suddenly dropped a few degrees.
Cheng De Cao's face twitched.
"Young Master Jun," He forced a smile. "I am quite well-known in the capital."
Jun Mo Xie shrugged. "Ah? Is that so? And yet, I've still never heard of you. What a tragedy."
He sighed, shaking his head as if offering condolences. "It must be hard, being so… forgettable."
Who does this guy think he is, damn it, he looks like he wants to stab me, ah; I'm your daddy when it comes to that... You puny little jerk!
Cheng De Cao clenched his fists. His knuckles turned white.
The Second Prince, watching this unfold, couldn't decide whether to laugh or be horrified.
Fang Bo Wen's sharp, old eyes never left Jun Mo Xie, his gaze like that of a seasoned scholar dissecting a text, picking apart every word, every move. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, speaking in a slow, measured tone.
"Oh, young master Jun, the young master Cheng hails from a more… modest family than the Jun Family. It is, perhaps, no surprise that you may not have heard of him." His voice was polite, but his words dripped with subtle condescension.
Jun Mo Xie turned his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if noticing Cheng De Cao for the first time. He cocked his head, his lips curling into a smirk.
"Cheng De Cao… is that right?" His voice was lazy, almost indifferent, as if he were trying to recall the name of an unimportant street vendor. "A recognized expert?"
Cheng De Cao's jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He forced a smile, though his entire body trembled with barely restrained anger.
"Young master Jun, I've heard much about your family's reputation," He said, his voice thick with false courtesy. "Especially your father's military prowess. I must admit, seeing you here today… I almost didn't recognize you. Your demeanor is quite different from what I expected."
The air in the room turned ice-cold.
A sharp, hidden edge lay beneath Cheng De Cao's words. The insult was veiled, but everyone caught it. He had just implied that Jun Mo Xie lacked the discipline and dignity befitting his family's legacy.
Worse, he had touched a wound that could not be healed—Jun Mo Xie's parents, long gone, unable to defend their son's honor.
The Second Prince, seated comfortably moments ago, suddenly felt a drop of sweat slide down his back. His fingers gripped his chair as he silently cursed Cheng De Cao's foolishness. Why? Why poke the sleeping dragon?
He prayed Jun Mo Xie was too arrogant, too dim-witted to catch the deeper meaning.
The gods, it seemed, were not answering today.
Jun Mo Xie's smirk vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, piercing glare. A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes, like a blade catching the moonlight before a silent, swift kill.
He let the silence stretch, allowing the weight of the insult to settle over the room.
Then, with the speed of a striking viper, he changed his tone, his lips quirking back into a mocking grin.
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