Turns Out, I’m In A Villain Clan! Chapter 438: The Ninth Princess’s Mask

"Very well! If that will make you give up on Zihan!"

Chu Ziyan declared instantly.

Her tone echoed sharp and resolute.

She advanced a step, stance upright, features serene.

This held no trace of haughtiness.

Nor did it stem from a wish to oppress the inferior.

To her, Yu Feiyan appeared merely as a pampered royal unused to denial— a figure demanding a direct reply immune to manipulation through speech or appeal.

Should a clash be required to drive her back?

So be it.

Besides, Yu Feiyan had boldly issued the provocation herself— and with Bai Zihan in the balance no less.

Given how Yu Feiyan had escalated matters to this point, Chu Ziyan recognized she wouldn't back down without a fight.

Chaos exploded across the hall.

"What?! Princess Yu is issuing a challenge to Chu Ziyan?"

"This is ridiculous! Princess Yu remains merely at the Nascent Soul Realm!"

"What prompts the Princess to propose such a confrontation?"

"She's doomed to defeat—what sort of choice is that?"

...

Suppressed chuckles spread among the assembly.

For all those gathered, the result seemed inevitable.

Chu Ziyan outmatched her in virtually every aspect.

Whether in cultivation level, skills, or battle wisdom, Chu Ziyan surpassed the sheltered Princess Yu Feiyan, who had enjoyed constant safeguarding from her early days.

The bout would conclude swiftly.

A few even shook their heads with sympathy for Yu Feiyan.

Yet Bai Zihan experienced no such relief.

Not for an instant.

Dread gripped his chest.

The others failed to grasp it.

They were unable.

In their view, Yu Feiyan stood as a Nascent Soul cultivator.

But to him—

She masqueraded as a beast behind sweet grins.

Her cultivation topped everyone in attendance.

Over two centuries in age as well, leaving experience beyond question— and she had already deployed a Saint-Grade technique against him.

Thus, she undoubtedly commanded superior techniques over nearly all present.

The clash would indeed wrap up quickly— but the triumph would surely evade Chu Ziyan.

Qin Lingxiao's mouth tilted faintly upward.

(Just as anticipated!)

By assuming the role of the delicate Ninth Princess, no one imagined her victory.

Hence, she had foreseen Chu Ziyan agreeing— particularly with her betrothed involved.

She understood Chu Ziyan aimed to demonstrate her greater worth.

The Ninth Princess had proposed the test, and Chu Ziyan had agreed. All knew the subsequent steps.

Their pact—and the showdown—now loomed.

Before motion could stir—

"Enough!"

Bai Zihan moved ahead.

Quiet descended over the hall.

He positioned himself amid Chu Ziyan and Yu Feiyan, face determined, presence firm yet steadfast.

"This serves no purpose," he stated evenly.

Attention shifted entirely to him.

He pivoted a bit, facing Chu Ziyan.

His look gentled.

"My affections lie solely with Chu Ziyan," Bai Zihan announced steadily.

"Thus, regardless of any fight's result— my choice remains unaltered."

Whispers cascaded through the chamber.

From afar—

It came across as loyalty.

As a gentleman openly affirming his devotion, unmoved by external forces.

Several even stirred with emotion.

Yet within—

Bai Zihan's mind stayed frozen.

This isn't a contest.

It's an ambush.

No matter the opponent here—

Chu Ziyan.

A Grand Elder.

Any soul in this space—

None could overcome Qin Lingxiao.

She had intentionally incited Chu Ziyan.

Presented a dare seeming assured—

Merely to guide her into doom.

And Bai Zihan refused to permit it.

His stare fixed on Yu Feiyan.

"Therefore, Princess—let's conclude this!"

Qin Lingxiao's grin failed to touch her gaze.

Right when she believed events would resume their course, Bai Zihan interrupted once more.

For an instant, hush prevailed.

Then Yu Feiyan grinned anew.

As though Bai Zihan's meddling had simply entertained her.

"Why does Young Master Bai meddle?" she inquired mildly.

Her eyes shifted to Chu Ziyan.

"This concerns only two ladies," Yu Feiyan went on, tone soft but unshakeable, "seeking to show who truly merits Young Master Bai’s affection."

Stirrings flowed through the hall.

A number nodded without thought.

Others bent closer.

Love's contest.

A bout for hearts.

It rang... logical.

Revulsion surged in Bai Zihan.

He pressed onward once more.

"No!"

The lone term sliced sharply.

His eyes fastened on Yu Feiyan, icy and fixed.

"You misread the situation, Princess."

He avoided shouting.

Still, each phrase pierced the chatter cleanly.

"I didn't come to love Chu Ziyan due to her cultivation, her aptitude, or her lineage."

Chu Ziyan’s eyes expanded a touch.

Bai Zihan pressed on, voice even but definitive.

"Nor will I select a partner by strength, rank, or victory in combat."

He faced Yu Feiyan completely.

"I appreciate the positive regard from the Ninth Princess toward me," he expressed politely.

"However, I cannot—and shall not—return them."

The chamber turned utterly quiet.

"Emotions aren't conquests to seize," Bai Zihan stated icily. "Nor rewards to contest."

His statement struck with weight.

Yu Feiyan’s grin faltered.

Bai Zihan breathed out gradually.

"And above all," he added, scanning the hall, "today marks a occasion of respect."

"A festivity for the warriors of the Northern Battlefield."

His tone toughened.

"To degrade it into spectacle from private fixation dishonors—the deceased, the survivors, and all who offered their lives."

Many agreed with nods. Truly, Bai Zihan's points held logic.

Bai Zihan’s gaze settled on Yu Feiyan finally.

"Thus, Princess," he stated simply, "this issue concludes now."

Bai Zihan awaited no reply from Yu Feiyan.

He pivoted and confronted the imperial seat squarely.

He formed a fist salute, form rigid though a subtle tension lingered in his motions.

"Your Majesty!"

The Emperor’s stare intensified.

Bai Zihan addressed him steadily, free of bitterness or plea.

"This junior has claimed the honors granted for the Northern Battlefield," he noted smoothly.

"The achievements, the artifacts, the acclaim—I receive them thankfully."

The assembly held its breath in attention.

"Yet regarding further proposals," Bai Zihan went on, tone unwavering, "this junior must refuse!"

He raised his chin a fraction.

Astonishment rippled across the hall.

Hush ensued.

Every gaze fixed on the Emperor.

The Emperor examined Bai Zihan at length.

At last—

He released a sigh.

A soft, fatigued exhale.

"Very well," the Emperor uttered finally, inclining his head gradually.

No fury colored his words.

Merely concession.

"This affair... lies beyond my power to impose. If your heart is fixed on another, what recourse remains?"

Unease stirred among the officials.

Bai Zihan had rejected—

And the Emperor had consented.

Not from desire.

But from necessity.

Despite his wounds.

Despite his retreat.

Despite appearing with ruined meridians and a path shrouded in doubt—

Bai Zihan remained Bai Zihan.

Events unfolded per his will, and this day proved no exception.

Bai Zihan saluted with clasped fists again.

"This junior expresses thanks to Your Majesty for your comprehension."

His speech stayed even, firm—neither victorious nor aggrieved.

The Emperor gestured dismissively, as though waving away not Bai Zihan, but the issue.

"Depart," he instructed. "Prioritize your recovery."

Bai Zihan inclined deeply.

Then he rotated.

He spared Yu Feiyan no further glance.

He extended his arm, fingers encircling Chu Ziyan’s wrist as effortlessly as if it were destined.

"Let’s leave," he murmured softly.

His words allowed no denial.

And Chu Ziyan... offered none.

Chu Ziyan tensed briefly—

Then eased.

She dipped her head subtly and trailed him without protest, a subtle flush rising on her face amid her poised demeanor.

The pair proceeded together across the hall.

The throng divided naturally.

Certain stares held admiration.

Others skepticism.

Some tangled jealousy.

A wounded champion.

A spurned royal union.

A lady accompanying him willingly, unhesitating.

None could pinpoint the most startling element.

Trailing them—

Yu Feiyan lingered in place.

Her bearing unaltered.

Her visage tranquil.

Yet grinning.

But buried in her depths, a chill stirred.

Not rage.

Not shame.

Fascination!

As Bai Zihan progressed, his awareness stayed fully alert.

He avoided overt glances backward.

Through peripheral sight, through subtle fluctuations in Qi and purpose, he discreetly watched Qin Lingxiao.

Yu Feiyan held her position.

Not a whisper of murderous aura emerged.

Zero.

Bai Zihan’s hold on Chu Ziyan firmed slightly.

(Should she choose to strike...)

He grasped the reality.

Qin Lingxiao required no ambush.

No plots.

No pretexts.

If she desired his end—

Death would have claimed him.

Precisely there.

In that chamber.

Encircled by rulers, elders, and champions.

And none could have intervened.

At the very least, Bai Zihan understood that Qin Lingxiao held no desire to discard her facade, not at this juncture.