Chapter Eighteen: Mere Trifles

About half an hour later.

At the Yunshang Fenghua Villa, Elder Cui and the Immortal Yu finally arrived.

“Dad!”

Seeing his father in person, Cui Youliang finally felt his anxiety ease. Previously, he had worried that if his father was unwilling to spend the ten billion, abandoning him, what would become of him?

Elder Cui glanced around the scene and, as expected, saw that over a hundred of his family’s enforcers were scattered about—some standing, some collapsed—looking as if their souls had left their bodies, utterly devoid of fighting spirit. Both surprised and furious, he could only be thankful that his son was unharmed, a small mercy amid misfortune.

“Immortal Yu! You’ve come too!”

Upon seeing Immortal Yu following his father, Cui Youliang felt as though a weight had been lifted from his chest, completely reassured. He had witnessed Yu’s formidable prowess firsthand—a true master of mystical arts.

To most people, a master like Yu was akin to a living deity.

“You, Ye Feng, even if you possess brute strength to take on a hundred men, what of it? Do you think you can contend with an Immortal who commands arcane arts?”

“This time, you’re doomed!”

Ye Feng’s gaze swept over the two men. Skipping over Elder Cui, his eyes fixed on Immortal Yu.

“Be careful, that should be the Cui family’s appointed master,” whispered Bai Weiwei.

A “master” was a rare talent heavily compensated and honored by a great family, treated as an esteemed guest. When the family faced thorny troubles, their master would intervene to resolve the crisis.

In ancient times, like the retinue of Lord Mengchang, whose estate boasted thousands of retainers—be they thieves or spies—recruited for their unique skills, so too did modern noble families in Yanjing employ masters. These masters often settled family disputes in secret contests of prowess.

Thus, a family’s master embodied an invisible symbol of their true strength.

Ye Feng could immediately discern that this man was a fellow cultivator. His own master had been a pinnacle cultivator on the verge of transcendence. However, after failing a critical trial, losing his senses, and slaughtering innocents, he was stripped of his powers and imprisoned.

As Ye Feng studied Immortal Yu, Yu likewise appraised Ye Feng.

Yet Yu could detect no trace of true energy within Ye Feng’s body.

This left only two possibilities: either Ye Feng possessed no true energy at all and was merely a common martial artist; or his cultivation far surpassed Yu’s, masking any discernible aura.

Seeing Ye Feng was barely in his twenties, Yu concluded it was the former: merely a strong ordinary fighter.

With this judgment, Immortal Yu relaxed completely.

“One man against a hundred, quite the skill!”

Yu stepped forward smiling.

“Who is your master?”

Ye Feng chuckled, “I have many masters. Which one do you want to know about?”

Yu was taken aback, puzzled. “You have several masters?”

“Over a hundred.”

Yu laughed dryly, suspecting Ye Feng was joking. Who could have so many masters? That would be chaos.

Likely, Ye Feng’s true lineage wasn’t something he wished to reveal.

“Very well,” Yu said, “seeing your skill, why not settle this peacefully?”

“If you kneel, apologize to the Cui family, and pledge your service henceforth, I can spare you this time.”

To Yu, a grand master of mystical arts easily outmatched ordinary fighters. If he truly attacked, Ye Feng would be dead or grievously wounded. If he were wise, he should be kneeling and begging for mercy now.

Elder Cui saw Yu’s offer as a chance to recruit Ye Feng. Though still angry, he was willing to show leniency for the sake of the boy’s skill.

“No!” Cui Youliang was relentless, “We can’t let him off so easily! Wasn’t he so arrogant and strong just now?”

“If he’s going to kneel, he must kowtow a hundred times!”

Yu laughed, “Did you hear that, boy? Cui Young Master says a hundred kowtows, and you’re free. Why not comply?”

Yu hoped to humble Ye Feng’s pride this way. One kneel, and he’d forever be under their heel.

“Enough nonsense,” Ye Feng replied coldly.

“What makes you think you can negotiate with me?”

“Did you bring the money you owe?”

“Not a single cent, and none of you will leave!”

What!?

The atmosphere turned tense once more.

“That brat still dares to talk back!” Cui Youliang snarled. “Immortal Yu, teach him a lesson!”

“A reckless youth indeed,” Elder Cui said gravely. “Yu Immortal, it’s time to show that brat the might of the Cui family!”

“Attack!”

Yu nodded and spoke darkly, “Boy, I gave you a chance to live, but you missed it!”

“Fine! Since you’re courting death, today you’ll witness my true power!”

With that, Yu raised his hand.

The wooden sword strapped to his back suddenly unsheathed, hovering midair like a drawn arrow ready to shoot.

“A flying sword!?”

Seeing Yu’s sword mastery again, Cui Youliang exclaimed in excitement.

“Decapitate that brat!”

Bai Weiwei, witnessing the wooden sword hovering by itself, was stunned.

“Could he… be one of those legendary cultivators?”

She recalled how her brother once sought to recruit such rare talents during his entrepreneurial days, but back then, he cared only for money and dismissed such mystical affairs.

Now, seeing the terrifying power of the Cui family’s master firsthand, she could not help but regret.

If only their own Bai family had employed such extraordinary talents, perhaps their fate would have been different.

Before anyone could react, Yu unleashed the flying sword, yet he did not strike immediately, seemingly to savor the shock and fear on his opponent’s face.

But Ye Feng remained impassive, showing no reaction.

“Scared stiff?” Yu sneered coldly. “The sword is drawn. Regret comes too late!”

“Today, you become my test blade!”

“Go!”

With a shout, the flying sword shot forward like a meteor tearing across the night sky.

“Watch out!” Bai Weiwei screamed, warning Ye Feng.

“No need to panic! Mere trifles!” Ye Feng stepped forward, golden light shimmering all around him, bursting forth to illuminate the dimly lit parlor.