The green-clad maiden’s body gave a slight shudder, as if she had become a lone blade of grass on a desolate cliff, utterly unsupported. Her lips trembled faintly under the black-clad youth’s calm gaze, giving her the feeling that her very frame was about to collapse. This terror, akin to her scalp tearing apart and exploding, made her legs weak. Her last shred of rationality compelled her to reach out and open her spatial pouch, from which she retrieved a thin, ancient booklet, her voice trembling, “This, this is…”
Before her, Xiao Fang had already collapsed to the ground, his face pale, his eyes fixed and lifeless.
The moment the booklet left the green-clad maiden’s hand, it was pulled by an invisible force toward Ye Chen, floating gently into his grasp.
On the thin cover were two ancient seal script characters: Blood Dragon Tone!
Ye Chen glanced at it, not even reaching out to open it. The booklet unfolded automatically, as if unlocking a magical door. A needle-sharp, brilliant, intense blood-red light bloomed forth from within, like a demon lotus, magnificent yet beautiful.
Then, waves of ancient zither music drifted out from the booklet, spreading through the air.
A mass of dense crimson radiance hovered above the thin book, within which elegant musical symbols slowly materialized, soaring in the air like flowing calligraphy, circling around Ye Chen’s body.
Fifteen minutes later, the melody of Blood Dragon Tone finally concluded, yet its lingering echoes refused to fade.
While everyone else remained submerged in the ethereal, exquisitely beautiful, yet spine-chilling strains of the music, Ye Chen had already closed the booklet and set it softly beside the low table. He then placed both hands upon the strings of the Dragon Zither, his long, fair fingers gently stroking each string—a tender action, as if caressing a lover’s skin.
Then, his fingers began to move.
He plucked the first string, and a distant, ethereal note drifted and spread through the air from the Dragon Zither.
This single opening note was like the morning bell rousing from the evening drum; it seemed to knock open the doors of the heart, threatening to draw the very soul outward.
The green-clad maiden’s body jolted. She stared at Ye Chen with utter astonishment. If she hadn't misheard, that opening note was precisely the opening note of the Blood Dragon Tone!
Yet, how was it that countless pieces she had played over the years never possessed such a mellifluous, lingering, and yet airy elegance?
Her eyes locked onto Ye Chen’s fingers.
Next, Ye Chen’s fingers struck the strings again, plucking the heartstrings of everyone present. Starting from that initial, percussive, shattering sound, he slowly began a rhythm played at an extremely low tempo. From sparse at first to dense later, the music was both deep and rapid, like countless wild horses galloping and neighing, or like a waterfall cascading from the Nine Heavens, roaring and soaring.
The music gradually transitioned from a slow, measured tempo to one that was high-pitched and fervent, like a hawk emerging from a valley, suddenly spreading its wings to soar through the Ninth Heaven with a cry of pure exhilaration. At this moment, the melody suddenly shifted, plunging into a strange, unpredictable rhythm—sometimes slow, sometimes fast, sometimes low, sometimes high—impossible to grasp, yet never feeling chaotic.
As time went on, Ye Chen seemed to enter the state fully, his eyes gradually closing. His fingers moved from blurs too fast to track, until the final, explosive crescendo. He plucked the strings one by one, each note bursting forth with a killing intent as sharp as a honed blade. It was like countless armies surging forward in a tide, the earth-shaking aura following each explosive note in succession, robbing breath, accelerating heartbeats, inducing a sense of suffocation.
In the finale, Ye Chen unleashed three soaring notes in succession, like three sharp swords shooting forth. Then, with a rapid sweep of both hands, all the strings vibrated together, roaring like a malevolent, furious dragon!
The performance reached its curtain call.
The green-clad maiden watched, her eyes and hands nearly bulging out, her face vacant, staring at the Dragon Zither long after the music had ceased.
For such an impassioned and burning performance, based on her own deep immersion in the Dao of Music, she knew it required an unimaginable level of artistry to achieve!
At this moment, Ye Chen rose from the armchair and walked before her, looking down. “Extend your hand.”
The green-clad girl snapped back to attention, staring blankly at him, then seemingly obeying his command subconsciously, she slowly raised her hand.
Ye Chen grasped her small hand, finding her palm snow-white and exquisitely fine, soft enough to blush with a mere touch. He did not linger, extending his fingernail to trace lightly across her forearm, preparing to draw a small cut to procure a drop of blood.
The green-clad girl suddenly seemed to awaken, sharply retracting her hand, trembling, “What, what are you doing?”
“I need a drop of your blood.”
The green-clad maiden froze for a beat, then bit her lower lip. “That is fine, just… please don’t hurt my hand. If there’s a wound, the strings won't feel as smooth and rounded when I touch them.”
When one’s mastery of the Zither reached her level, attention must be paid to the smallest possible flaw.
Ye Chen couldn't help but look at her again, his gaze tinged with appreciation. He nodded, tapped his finger, and a tiny wound appeared on the green-clad girl’s shoulder. A single drop of blood floated out, hovering, and settled into Ye Chen’s palm. Ye Chen casually opened his runic space, retrieved a small test tube, poured the blood inside, then tossed the vial back into the runic space, turned, and walked toward Bai Long and the others. “Let’s go.”
The green-clad maiden, who had been stunned, suddenly felt a rush of anxiety upon hearing him say they were leaving. She blurted out involuntarily, “Don’t go!” Then, in a flash, she darted in front of Ye Chen, blocking his path. Looking at the tall, imposing figure of the young man, her heart filled with awe and fear, yet she gritted her teeth, knelt before him, slowly lowered her head, and spoke with firm determination and supplication: “Senior, please accept me as your disciple!”
Bai Long, leaning against the table nearby, curled his lip and muttered, “To take a master like that brute, you’ve had the worst luck in eight lifetimes.”
“Her judgment is truly poor,” Yue Heng whispered in agreement.
Zhuge Fan interjected, “Don’t speak about Brother Ye like that… however, this young lady is indeed too young. Knowing a person’s face, not their heart!”
Bai Long shot him a sidelong glance but said nothing.
Ye Chen did not offer a hand to help the green-clad maiden up; he let her remain kneeling, stating indifferently, “I will not take you as a disciple, but there are two things you need to pay attention to. First, your finger strength is too poor. When attempting some highly difficult maneuvers, your hands tremble due to tension and exertion; this is what causes your pitch deviations. Second, you need to pour your emotions into the music. Only then will your music be imbued with life, spirit, and genuine feeling.”
The green-clad maiden’s heart trembled upon hearing this; it was as if clouds had been swept away, rendering all her confusion suddenly clear. She was profoundly moved and immediately kowtowed three times.
When she looked up again, the entire hall was empty; it was desolate. Only the collapsed Xiao Fang, nearby, still sat on the ground like a pile of mud, his eyes vacant, as if he had been stunned senseless.
And there, on the floor before her, lay a small, thin booklet.
She couldn't resist reaching out and picking it up.
The cover of the booklet bore three large characters: Yang Dragon Finger!
Without needing to guess, she knew Ye Chen had left it for her before departing. Judging by the name, it was most likely a secret manual specifically designed for strengthening finger dexterity.
If she had known this was the introductory primer to a primary Emperor-level secret manual, one could only imagine her reaction.
She walked to the balcony and gazed into the distant void, her eyes filled with a heart-wrenching sorrow she had never known until this moment. It was so intense that the booklet in her hand felt worth less than weeds; if only she could see that mysterious black-clad youth just one more time, she would forsake everything without hesitation.
She glanced nervously toward the sky but detected nothing, yet a feeling settled within her heart: from this day forward, she feared she would never see him again.
The gap between herself and that person was like the gulf between the clouds and the mud—forever unreachable.
In her brief, blossoming youth, a mysterious and powerful man had drifted into her life like a floral fragrance, planting a thread of yearning deep within her heart.
Above the Thunder Roar Plaza.
Within the ethereal white mist, Ye Chen stood with Bai Long and the others, forming a circle, exchanging glances. They all took a deep breath simultaneously, then fiercely struck out a palm. A surge of intense energy erupted from each of their palms, converging in the center to form a colossal sphere of energy, radiating a dense and terrifying power.
“Wind Barrier!”
Ye Chen coldly raised his other hand, swiftly drawing several boundaries that encased everyone’s bodies and enveloped the entire sky within the matrix.
The energy brewing in their palms intensified. At Ye Chen’s sharp command, everyone abruptly recoiled. The uncontrolled sphere of energy churned violently, shook intensely, and then suddenly exploded.
Boom—as if an entire century had been blown into blankness.
The eardrums of everyone present lost all sensation, unable to hear any sound or perceive any sight. After a long interval, the delayed, tidal roar of the explosion finally washed over them, followed by the sharp sound of shattering glass.
At this moment, everyone in Thunder Roar Plaza heard an earth-shattering detonation. All the building walls trembled violently like willow catkins in the wind, shedding chalky white plaster dust from the corners.
Everyone looked up to see a massive crater blasted open in the clouds above, dark and deep within, swirling with countless streaks of lightning.
At the periphery of the energy blast, Ye Chen quickly regained his equilibrium. A strange image flashed through his mind: back when he was a child, on Thunder Roar Plaza, he had witnessed great battles between super-experts tearing open a void in the sky.
In this lifetime, two hundred years later, it was he and Bai Long and the others who had torn open that passage with their own hands.
He frowned. His body was already being pulled and sucked into the immense force of the passage, as if being swallowed by the gaping mouth of a giant beast.