CHAPTER FIVE

White Orchid

​I nodded my head in acknowledgement.

"Greetings, Young Master Feng. This prince thanks you for the welcome," I replied with faux politeness.

The disciple blinked in surprise, apparently not expecting such a mild response from me, the infamous Royal Wastrel. Of course, I could have simply been rude and dismissive to the fellow which would have played right into my predecessor's modus operandi and spared me any unneeded suspicion. But given I suspect I might be forced to stay in the sect for a while in my search for Li Yifeng's stash, it might be best to make a few adjustments to how I approach social interactions.

"Please, my Prince, call me Feng Yu," the man said as he straightened his back and led us out of the courtyard proper, seemingly pleased with how I addressed him. I didn't know who the fellow was—either I didn't remember him from the novel or he wasn't mentioned at all in the first place—but with his glaringly frivolous sense of fashion and the fact that he was the one chosen to welcome me of all people, I could draw a few inferences regarding what kind of person I was dealing with.

The first is that he is a vain individual. While I admit that cultivators, in general, are vain beings, it takes a certain kind of vanity coupled with blind arrogance to dress in a manner so gaudy when your intention was to receive a member of royalty infamous for being petty. Sure, he might be much stronger than I was cultivation-wise and perhaps assumed to be safe on sect grounds, but there were a multitude of ways for me, a prince, to skirt the rule if I wanted his severed head delivered to me in a wooden box. After all, even if he was a Senior Disciple he was still, at the end of the day, just an outer disciple.

That aside, I also believe I would be correct in assuming that this Feng fellow was among the least favoured—if not the least—of all the sect's senior disciples. The reputation of Prince Na Wei precedes my every step; no elder worth his salt would send a promising disciple to receive a noble such as myself. Meaning, that someone somewhere had written Feng Yu off as savvy enough not to cause trouble for the sect by hosting me but still disposable enough should worse come to worst.

Knowing this, Feng Yu was slowly shaping up in my eyes as a suitable tool to further my agenda should I wield him properly. He was irrelevant, yet cognizant of the fact that he was, unsatisfied with his fate and willing to change it, albeit overcompensating in areas that don't matter. Cheap, ambitious, and shortsighted; all makings of a good pawn.

Still, I had to be careful lest I became the fool. This wasn't Earth where most things could be taken at face value, but the Myriad Realms where your average cultivator while stupid and vainglorious, still had decades of life experience to fall back on. For all I knew, the malleable pawn seemingly delivered right into my lap might not be so malleable after all.

We walked in silence as he guided me from what I perceived to be my new abode through the sect grounds and past a pavilion where several other cultivators sat. A few of them were playing Go while others meditated quietly. None seemed to pay us much mind.

"That's a Yin Pavilion," Feng Yu said, subconsciously dropping the "Prince" title as he gestured with his chin at the pavilion as we passed by. "You might stumble upon a few scattered across this area. Most disciples, unless invited in by an Elder or inner disciple, would be wise to avoid entering them—

"Is this Prince to be expected to await an invitation before he can enter a mere pavilion?" I asked, interrupting the other cultivator. Behind me, the eunuch warrior pair that had been trailing behind us swivelled their heads to loom imposing over the cultivator as they sensed my shifting mood, the oppressive pressure of their cultivation bases radiating out of their armoured forms. Yes, I was pissed. I did not spend seventy-two years as a tortured existence just to have some upstart young master attempt to flex on me.

With my attention fixed so keenly on him, I easily noticed the mix of disdain and envy that gleamed through Feng Yu's eyes. Of course, I knew he had little respect for me, but I still expected him to attempt to hide it better. Cultivators tend to be as proud as they were vain and this one seemed already a particularly vain individual. Perhaps, playing chaperone to another possibly two or three ranks his junior in cultivator was too much for his fragile ego to bear?

Well, that wasn't my problem. He had better suck it up.

And truly, Feng Yu, as required of him as per his obligations as my host, did suck it up even if he hated it. He coughed into his fist, clearing his throat. "Of course, as it His Highness, I believe that tidbit should be of no concern to you," he said before quickly changing the topic, cold sweat beading his forehead. "Over there is one of the lower Martial halls. Given we were informed you are still in the first stage of the Houtain Realm the sect has made arrangements to suit His Highness's needs. I will be hosting a lesson on swordplay there that is open for all disciples to attend tomorrow at dawn. If the Prince would deign to join I would be most honoured."

I nodded my head noncommittally, dismissing the offer as we continued. The buildings we passed were made from a polished white stone which reminded me of the marble in my former life. The structures were all neatly lined with a series of ornate pillars that supported their roof, while a network of narrow paths paved the ground leading to each building. The entire complex was a labyrinth of courtyards and pavilions, each one housing a different building or statue. Some were even filled with trimmed white orchid saplings.

The tour carried on for a while before I quickly lost interest. There were only so many pavilions you could set your eyes on before they all started to look the same. Minutes later we returned to my courtyard.

"That will be all, My Prince," Feng Yu ground out, still quite obviously displeased but wise enough to suppress said displeasure to the best of his ability. He would make a good pawn.

"Thank you," I dismissed him, my voice tinged with boredom as I made my way inside my accommodations.