"Senior, this is… too precious," Shang Yan Fei murmured, his voice tight as he stared at the golden liquid swirling in his cup.
Fang Yuan's lips curled into a cold, dismissive smirk. "Oh, don't be so dramatic."
He leaned back, his gaze flicking lazily over the room. "It's just a Dragon's Blood!"
"It's only good for boosting someone's aptitude up to 90%. It may look impressive, but it's hardly anything worth fighting for. It's just a tool—something for talentless clans like yours to cling to in a world where true power is rare."
He watched as his words landed like daggers, and the room fell into a suffocating silence. It was as if someone had just told a wolf it was no better than a mutt from the streets.
Shang Yan Fei's expression darkened, his pride wounded by the blatant degradation. He had always prided himself on being an A-grade talent, his aptitude at 85%, a position that had already earned him respect within his clan. Yet here was this young man—someone even weaker and younger—looking down at him, dismissing his entire existence as something far beneath contempt.
The bitter taste of humiliation rose in Shang Yan Fei's throat. He wanted to lash out, to let the fire of anger consume him, but he couldn't. Because he knew better.
There was a line between pride and survival, and Fei Long had deftly pushed him across it.
He is a younger, stronger man and someone who could crush him in an instant.
And no matter how much the truth stung, he could do nothing.
The room remained eerily still, everyone's gaze fixed on Fei Long.
What could they do?
Their strongest clan leader couldn't even rebuke this guy.
Even their own Supreme Elder, no matter her status, wouldn't dare make a move. A Gu Immortal clashing with a mere mortal—what would that make of her?
A joke in the entire community?
Shang Yan Fei's children looked greedily at the vial, eyes alight with desire. But Shang Yan Fei quickly concealed it within his storage bag, afterall, the contents inside this bottle are not just precious.
"I thank you for the gift, Senior," he said stiffly, his words hollow, but necessary.
His voice was strained, knowing all too well that this wasn't a simple exchange but a humiliation, and one with an unspoken price attached.
Fang Yuan waved it off with a bored flick of his wrist, his smile inwardly mocking.
"It's nothing. I'm just resting here for a while before I head to Wu Clan."
The way he said "Wu Clan" was deliberate, a low blow meant to remind them of their standing.
Wu Clan was leagues above Shang Clan, and stating it so bluntly was a reminder of just how insignificant they had become in this ever-changing power struggle.
Shang Yan Fei's face tightened, but he managed to mask it with a thin smile.
"And what business do you have with them?" He asked, his voice tight, but his mind racing.
Every person in the room felt the weight of the conversation. Even Shang Xin Ci, the host of this banquet, knew to remain silent. She had never seen Fei Long's full capabilities, but the depth of his power was becoming clear—far more than her clan could ever hope to attain.
Fang Yuan, however, had little regard for their expectations. "I'm representing the sale of Dragon's Blood," he said, the casualness in his voice betraying the impact of his words. "Wu Clan is offering an interesting price for it. It'll be the first time we've sold it to the outside world."
Shang Yan Fei's heart sank. He could feel the threat in Fang Yuan's words, sharp and cold.
If Wu Clan secured this…the Shang Clan would be buried beneath them.
They already struggled to keep up—this would seal their fate.
Shang Yan Fei's voice turned sharp, desperate.
"I don't know what price Wu Clan has offered, but our Shang Clan is willing to pay more." He hated himself for begging, for showing weakness, but what choice did he have?
Fang Yuan raised an eyebrow, his smile widening with quiet amusement.
He'd been expecting this. He knew of the enmity between the clans, the power imbalance—Wu Clan was already stepping on Shang Clan's throat, and now it was time for him to press the advantage.
"Oh?" Fang Yuan said, his tone a low hum of mockery.
"Are you sure you can afford it?"
Shang Yan Fei's chest tightened, but he forced out, "Please, tell me the price."
Fang Yuan placed a small, transparent bottle on the table, its contents shimmering with a faint golden glow. "This," he said slowly, "contains 10,000 drops of Dragon's Blood. It can create 200 to 300 A-grade Gu Masters."
His smirk deepened.
"As for the price…"
He raised one finger, slow and deliberate.
The room fell into an abyss of stunned silence. Shang Yan Fei's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He was a man of wealth, of power—but this… One Billion?
His mind struggled to process the figure. He couldn't fathom it.
Perhaps they were only now realizing just how far ahead Fei Long had always been.
His voice faltered, struggling to grasp reality. "One… one billion?"
Fang Yuan looked at him with disgust. "A billion? Is that really all your clan can offer?" He let out a short, mocking laugh. "Why would I even come to such a pitiful place for a sum like that?"
Shang Yan Fei was struck dumb. He had no words. The disparity in wealth, in power, in prestige—it was staggering.
The idea of selling Dragon's Blood for anything less than an billion primeval stones felt beneath him, as though he were mocking himself by even entertaining the thought.
Shang Yan Fei stammered, "How much was Wu Clan paying?"
Fang Yuan's voice was as cold as the ice forming around the air in the room. "They offered me One." He let the word hang in the air, its weight suffocating.
Shang Yan Fei felt his gut twist in disbelief.
"One Primeval Stone?"
Fang Yuan burst out laughing and said, "Shang Yan Fei, you sure have a sense of humor!"
But before Shang Yan Fei could even process, Fang Yuan laughed again, the sound dark and foreboding.
"You think a mere stone is worth this blood?"
"This is Dragon's Blood. Extracted from a Rank 8 Draconic Beast."
"You think it's worth mortal primeval stones?" Fang Yuan's words hit like a whip. "This tiny vial costs one Immortal Essence Stone."
Shang Yan Fei's mind exploded. His whole worldview shattered. He thought he understood power, wealth, status—but here, before him, was a reminder that he was just a dog at the feet of giants.
Fang Yuan leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Do you really think your clan can afford this?" He let the question hang like a noose around Shang Yan Fei's neck.
The temptation to steal the blood was overwhelming, but Shang Yan Fei hesitated. He couldn't afford to provoke a man like this.
Not someone who held that kind of power. If even their beast was Rank 8... just how powerful was the clan behind him?
Fang Yuan seemed to sense his internal struggle, a mocking gleam in his eyes. "You have to talk to your Supreme Elder, don't you?" He chuckled. "Go ahead. But they've been listening to everything from the beginning."
He yawned, as if bored by the entire ordeal, and with a casual flick of his hand, he called out, "Come out. I know you're there."
A soft, cold voice responded from the shadows, "Since when did you know?"