Chapter Ten: The Human Trafficker Becomes a Master

The white bird was called the Three-Plume Bird, renowned for its pure white body and three long, stiff yellow lashes above its eyes. Its exceptional eyesight made it a prized companion among the bird-controlling clans of this land. At this moment, the one communing with the Three-Plume Bird was no ordinary figure, but the illustrious eldest daughter of the Lingxiao clan—Lingxiaohua, fierce as fire, alluring and beautiful as the flower for which she was named. Normally clad in bold red garments that seemed ill-suited for taming spirit beasts, she had nevertheless subdued the clan’s guardian spirit bird, accomplishing miracle after miracle. She was cherished by her family as the “girl in the sky.”

Lingxiaohua’s passions ran hot and cold, and upon hearing from her bosom friend—the daughter of the local magistrate under the Great Qian Dynasty—that the Grand Heavenly Demon Sect had acquired a mysterious Fifth Prince, she resolved to probe whether this prince was a menace to the world. Thus she soared into the sky with her beloved Three-Plume Bird, Beibei.

After merging her senses with the bird, she delighted in performing feats that pushed human limits and circled joyfully for a while, before gliding toward the vicinity of the Fat-Bellied Boat. No matter how many times she communed with her bird, she never tired of the freedom of wandering the skies.

Through the eyes of her Three-Plume Bird, she saw clouds rushing beneath her, and through their gaps, she caught sight of Zhang Ning, sitting cross-legged at the prow of the boat with eyes closed—not obviously cultivating, but already exuding a calm strength that made his youthful, innocent face seem enigmatic.

How old was this prince anyway? Lingxiaohua marveled inwardly. Then, as the prince smiled with closed eyes, her whole body was instantly flooded with warnings.

Thanks to her bird’s keen vision, Lingxiaohua tried to read Zhang Ning’s lips, but suddenly a middle-aged man appeared behind him, glanced her way, and vanished without warning.

Spatial power! An Emperor of Martial Arts!

Lingxiaohua was stunned—her clan’s most powerful elder was only at the Martial Sovereign level!

Escape! Escape! Escape!

But how could she possibly flee?

Resolute at last, she saw a hand extend behind her.

Tang Dao had been keeping a close watch on Zhang Ning’s movements. Upon hearing his command, he wasted no time in unleashing the spatial power reserved for those at the Martial Emperor realm, collapsing miles into inches and instantly appearing behind the spirit bird, seizing it in one swift motion.

He had realized, upon hearing Zhang Ning’s order, that this prince was no ordinary youth. The bird-controlling clans used soul force, not primordial spirit power, and even a Martial Emperor like himself couldn’t detect them without deliberate effort. For the prince to command him to capture this spirit bird—it couldn’t simply be for a meal.

Clearly, some reckless fool had dared to offend him.

So, with a subtle surge of primordial spirit power, Tang Dao imprisoned Lingxiaohua’s soul force, which was linked to the Three-Plume Bird.

Thus, when she was seized, Lingxiaohua found herself utterly helpless, horror-stricken.

Northern Vault City

Lingxiaohua, alone in her chambers, suddenly convulsed, foaming at the mouth and screaming in agony. Her beautiful face twisted into something ghastly. It was obvious—the torment of soul imprisonment was excruciating.

Her cries soon drew the attention of her household, who rushed to report the matter to the clan leader.

Meanwhile, Zhang Ning gazed at Tang Dao’s dashing maneuver, so impressed he nearly drooled.

"Uncle, what was that move called?" Zhang Ning asked politely, while the newly arrived guards stole envious glances at Tang Dao.

Tang Dao replied calmly, "Your Highness, that palm strike is called the Frighten Immortal Palm, a partial first-class technique. The manual praises strength over skill, though some moves do employ rebound force. Knowing you wished to capture the culprit alive, I subdued her spirit, then changed palm to claw, fulfilling my duty."

"Strength over skill? That sounds awesome! You’re amazing!" Zhang Ning exclaimed.

Tang Dao quickly demurred, "I dare not accept such praise. My life is yours to command. If you’re interested in this technique, I can demonstrate it for you."

Zhang Ning brightened, "Great, thank you!" He nearly forgot about the Three-Plume Bird altogether.

He noticed that Tang Dao’s attitude toward him had slowly changed these past few days. Where once there had been distant respect, now there was even greater reverence.

Zhang Ning wanted nothing more than to master all kinds of martial arts, but the Cloud Visualization Method, though easy for him, was mentally taxing—and the secret manuals in his storage pouch were daunting. He found them not particularly profound, though he had no scholarly breadth to judge. If only someone would teach him hand to hand—what a blessing that would be.

"Your Highness, how shall we deal with this petty offender?" Tang Dao asked.

Zhang Ning was puzzled—just a bird! What was there to deal with? Was he supposed to decide between steaming or roasting it? And besides, it was only a bird, yet it dared fix its gaze on his handsome self...

He pondered, about to suggest they grill it, when suddenly a shuttle pierced the clouds at speed.

The cloud patterns on the hull displayed its sect, and the bold calligraphy of the Internal Affairs Bureau confirmed to Zhang Ning—these were his own people.

Tang Dao stared intently at the small boat, murmuring, "It seems your people have arrived, Your Highness."

"My people?" Zhang Ning echoed, mouth agape as another windfall dropped from the sky.

In a blink, the two vessels—no, flying artifacts—matched speed, and the shuttle-like artifact landed smoothly and skillfully atop the Fat-Bellied Boat. Zhang Ning had no idea how many layers of identity verification or defensive checks had taken place, only that it was swift and silent—a familiar sensation.

In moments, people poured from the shuttle, led by a broad-browed, bright-eyed young man, who exchanged a few words with those on the Fat-Bellied Boat before heading straight for Zhang Ning. The rest all turned their gaze to him as well.

Zhang Ning could hardly feign ignorance.

But—why such treatment? It was excessive! Ever since he’d been relocated, building and all, onto the Fat-Bellied Boat, the atmosphere of genuine warmth among everyone was unmistakable.

He could no longer deceive himself. That trafficker—no, that upright, imposing, peerlessly handsome Lord of Myriad Phenomena, whose eyes were both kind and distant—was he now to be called...

The broad-browed youth knelt respectfully at Zhang Ning’s feet, posture humble and reverent, then spoke.

As he knelt, all the others knelt in unison; as he spoke, so did they all. Their eyes held only Zhang Ning.

"I swear upon my martial future and my entire life, to dedicate everything to you, Your Highness! I pledge loyalty, loyalty, and loyalty! My weapon is here, and before I fall, I and it will protect you, bleed for you! In this life and the next, I serve until death!"

Zhang Ning, who had seen his share of grand occasions in his previous life, was nonetheless moved—the fervent sincerity almost set the air ablaze.

He finally asked, "Who sent you?"

The young man’s gaze was unwavering. "The Lord himself commanded us, but henceforth we need no longer heed his orders. We have but one master—You!"

"Well... alright," Zhang Ning replied.

The moment the word left his lips, the group—so composed and dignified, so obviously elite—could not help but cheer.

And in the midst of the celebration, no one heard Zhang Ning’s muttered, "It’s over, it’s over—I’ve truly been won over by that trafficker’s sugar-coated arrows! From now on, I’ll have to call him... Master!"