Xia Xuanyin shot his son a sidelong glance. “Oh? And how would you know?”

Xia Chengyan flashed a smug grin. “Isn’t it obvious? Look at him. You can’t call someone a Heaven’s Chosen if he doesn’t have the women to prove it. It’s practically the standard loadout for a protagonist.”

As the words left his mouth, Lin Xiaozhu’s cool voice drifted from behind him. “What is the matter? Are you envious?”

Xia Chengyan shuddered visibly. He instantly composed himself, his expression shifting to one of solemn righteousness.

“Envious? Absurd,” he declared. “Romance is a shackle. Women only slow down the speed at which I draw my sword.”

He paused, stealing a quick, cautious glance at Lin Xiaozhu. His voice softened instantly. “Present company excluded, of course.”

The corner of Lin Xiaozhu’s lips twitched upward. “Heh.”

Xia Xuanyin watched his son’s antics and sighed internally. This brat is determined to lose all the Royal Family’s face.

The Emperor led Xia Chengyan and Lin Xiaozhu forward, formally introducing them to the assembly. The crowd erupted in polite applause and flowery compliments. They praised the two returning Nascent Soul prodigies with idioms like “the dragon’s bearing and phoenix’s grace” and “the student surpassing the master.”

Xia Chengyan and Lin Xiaozhu returned the greetings with practiced ease, their demeanor impeccable.

When they reached Zhang Xian, Xia Chengyan stepped forward first. His tone held genuine admiration.

“This must be Brother Zhang Xian, the man who humbled the Baoqing Workshop and gave the Guiyuan Sect a migraine. I have heard much of your renown. Seeing you today, your bearing is truly extraordinary. I am Xia Chengyan.”

“Brother Xia flatters me,” Zhang Xian replied, cupping his hands.

Inwardly, Zhang Xian was startled. This Crown Prince looked no older than two hundred years, yet his aura was condensed and flawless—a true Nascent Soul expert. The resources of the Central Continent truly produced monsters.

At that moment, a System prompt chimed in Zhang Xian’s mind.

[Ding! Discovered a 73-point Daughter of Destiny: Lin Xiaozhu.]

[Ding! Lin Xiaozhu’s Favorability towards you is 1. Binding successful.]

Xia Chengyan’s smile widened as his gaze swept over the three beauties standing near Zhang Xian.

“Brother Zhang, you are truly blessed! These three must be your wives, correct? Tsk, tsk. The bliss of having multiple partners… it is enough to make any man jealous.”

Zhang Xian remained silent.

This Crown Prince really has no filter.

Li Fuxi’s brows furrowed slightly. Her voice cut through the air, cold and clear. “This humble Daoist is Li Fuxi. I am Zhang Xian’s Master.”

The tone was flat, yet it carried an undeniable weight of authority.

Xia Chengyan’s smile froze on his face. He hurriedly bowed. “Ah, so it is Master Li. My apologies, I spoke out of turn.”

Internally, however, the Prince clicked his tongue. Master? Please. The way she was looking at him just now… her eyes were practically melting steel. Brother Zhang plays a dangerous game. He’s conquered his Master and the legendary mistress of the Cloud Raiment Pavilion? He is truly a role model for our generation.

Shortly after, the fleet mobilized. Dozens of flying vessels roared to life, piercing the clouds as they headed north.

Inside the flagship’s tactical cabin, Xia Xuanyin gathered the core leadership, including Zhang Xian, Xia Chengyan, and Lin Xiaozhu.

The Emperor’s gaze swept over the room. “Esteemed allies, I will no longer conceal our true objective. This is not a patrol. This is a decapitation strike. We are going to eradicate the Demon Nest.”

A ripple of shock went through those not privy to the inner circle, quickly replaced by a surge of battle lust.

“The location has been confirmed.” Xia Xuanyin pointed to a desolate sector on the Southern Region star map. “It is hidden within a small, abandoned secret realm to the north.”

He tapped the map. “Intelligence confirms the core defense consists of three Nascent Soul entities: the Central Continent puppet master, Daoist Qianji, and the two we encountered at the tournament—the Black Venerable and the White Venerable.”

“Daoist Qianji is particularly dangerous,” Xia Xuanyin continued. “He specializes in refining corpse puppets. Furthermore, the Nest is likely swarming with minions corrupted by the Entity of Evil Thoughts.”

“We kept this quiet to prevent tipping them off,” he concluded, his voice resonating like struck iron. “This battle determines the survival of the Southern Region. I expect everyone to give their all.”

The atmosphere in the cabin reached a boiling point.

After the strategy meeting, Zhang Xian was the first to knock on Yun Wanqing’s cabin door.

When she opened it, a flicker of joy lit up her eyes. “How is your recovery progressing?”

“I am unharmed,” Zhang Xian said, stepping inside. He looked at the gentle woman before him and sighed softly.

“You didn’t have to come, you know. Elder Yun sensed his Heavenly Tribulation approaching and has gone into seclusion to break through. The Demon Nest is dangerous; we don’t know what traps lie in wait.”

Wanqing shook her head. She walked to the window, watching the sea of clouds rush past. “Two masters from the Mountain Zen Monastery are guarding my father. I would be of no use there.”

She turned, her gaze firm. A gentle, teasing smile touched her lips. “Besides, are you looking down on me now?”

She stepped closer. “I am an eighth-stage Golden Core cultivator with a Spirit Treasure for protection. Thanks to you, I now possess a top-grade Fire Spiritual Root. If your Master can go, why can’t I?”

Zhang Xian looked into her clear eyes and saw an unshakable resolve. They both tacitly avoided speaking the name Xuan Zhou.

He stepped forward. “When we arrive, if you encounter any danger, crush the Mandarin Duck Pendant immediately.”

“Mm,” Yun Wanqing murmured, interlacing her fingers with his. Her palm was warm. “You must promise me not to be reckless. The injuries from the last battle haven’t fully healed, and the Demon Nest views you as a thorn in their side. Please, be careful.”

Her eyes were filled with a deep, dissolving tenderness.

Zhang Xian looked at her beautiful face, inches from his own. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her smooth forehead.

Yun Wanqing’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned gently into his embrace.

After a moment of warmth, Zhang Xian reluctantly pulled away.

Outside Yun Wanqing’s cabin, he stopped. He meticulously checked his robes, ensuring no lingering fragrance or stray hairs remained, before walking toward Li Fuxi’s quarters.

He pushed the door open.

Li Fuxi sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion, her spirit sword resting across her knees. She held a snow-white silk handkerchief soaked in spirit spring water, wiping the blade with absolute focus.

Her movements were gentle, but her eyes were sharp as glacial ice.

Zhang Xian could feel the rolling waves of sword intent radiating from her. She was sharpening her mind, adjusting her state for the coming slaughter—preparing to avenge her master and senior brother.

“Master,” Zhang Xian called out softly.

Li Fuxi’s hand paused on the blade. “You said that among the demons, there is a Nascent Soul puppet master from the Central Continent? One who can refine the bodies of those whose souls haven’t dispersed into puppets?”

“It is true,” Zhang Xian replied gravely. “When Zhiyin and the others were trapped in the secret realm, her puppet substitute was refined by them. And Star Concealment… they controlled his divination techniques by refining his body, allowing them to blind the heavenly secrets.”

Li Fuxi fell silent.

Slowly, she raised her head, her gaze locking onto Zhang Xian.

“Some time ago, at the Demon Sweeping Assembly, you fought a tall, sturdy puppet. It was skilled in deploying yellowish-brown defensive formations.”

Her voice trembled slightly. “Did you… see its true face?”

Zhang Xian’s heart tightened.

He nodded slowly. “I did. I detonated a Spirit Treasure to break its defense.”

He paused, his voice low. “The explosion blew off half its face.”