Old Yang fixed his gaze on Nael, his eyes flickering with a blend of curiosity and quiet insight, a faint smile nearly masking the decades of wisdom etched into his features.
"Sit down, please. Eat in peace; we'll talk later," he said, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable weight. Unlike the Patriarch, whose every word dripped with authority as if staking a claim, Old Yang understood Nael on a deeper level—he knew shouts wouldn't sway him, but reasoned words that struck at his core principles might.
Nael hesitated for a fleeting moment, his eyes sweeping the hall in silence. "Can I trust all this?" flashed through his mind as he settled back into his seat with a stance both firm and defiant, yet laced with an effortless grace. He grasped his utensils with steady hands and resumed eating, the sidelong glances of others brushing past him like a fleeting breeze.
The banquet sprawled around them, a vivid assault on the senses. Plates overflowed with exotic hues and rare meats, their aromas weaving through the air, stirring memories of grand celebrations among the storied families of the Holy Land. The untamed essence of demonic beasts from the Inferior Saint infused the dishes with a raw, almost pulsating vitality, though the absence of divine beast meats left a subtle hollowness on the tongue—an echo of something vital left unfulfilled.
Nael sliced into the meat with deliberate care, each cut precise, as though peeling back layers of his own past with every motion of the knife.
"Each bite brings a memory that doesn't let me rest," he murmured to himself, the bold flavors mingling an old bitterness with a sweetness he couldn't quite place.
As the meal unfolded, the heavy silence that had cloaked the room began to fracture, giving way to murmurs ripe with anticipation.
"This year, I feel that the Heavenly Path will open," Yang Kai, the Patriarch's younger brother, declared, his voice threading certainty with a tremor of concealed unease. His gaze drifted beyond the walls, lost in a vision of a future few dared to imagine.
Every word spoken, every subtle shift at the table, wove a tapestry of power and hidden truths, yet it also revealed a tangled humanity—glimpsed in fleeting gestures and the undercurrents of raw emotion.
"It's not just possible, it's almost certain," Elder Yang Mei, Yang Kai's older sister, asserted, her tone resolute, leaving no room for dissent.
"This era is different. The number of talented individuals who have emerged is staggering—many with gifts and origins we've never encountered before," she added, her voice steady, though tinged with pride and a whisper of unease.
"I'm not so sure…" Ning Rong, one of the Patriarch's concubines, cut in, her delicate fingers cradling a wine glass. "Is this just talk to lift our spirits?" she wondered, her expression a weary blend of doubt and exhaustion.
A brief hush fell over the hall, thick with unvoiced thoughts. Old Yang broke it with a small, knowing smile.
"Maybe, but there's something undeniable," he said, his eyes roaming across each face in the room. "This era carries a different scent in the air…"
Yang Wei, who had been chewing in silence until now, swallowed slowly before speaking, his voice low but brimming with resolve.
"The Heavenly Path doesn't reveal itself to those who sit idly by. It appears to those who take action and make it happen."
His words dropped like stones into still water, chilling the warm buzz of the room. Yang Kai, caught off guard, let disbelief seep into his tone.
"Make it happen?" he asked, one eyebrow lifting in a mix of mockery and intrigue. "That's not something people like us can achieve."
Yang Wei met his gaze, his stare piercing with an intensity that seemed to cut straight through.
"And who said I'm like you?" he shot back, each syllable ringing with unshakable certainty.
An odd silence gripped the hall, but Old Yang's lips curved faintly, amused by the young man's nerve.
"You raise a point worth pondering, young man. But tread carefully: the distinction between bravery and recklessness is slight."
Yang Wei let a ghost of a smile flicker across his face before returning to his meal, each bite a quiet reminder of the ambitions fueling him.
While the others picked up their chatter, speculating on the promise of this new era, Nael sat wrapped in a silence that spoke louder than words. His mere presence stirred the room, drawing curious glances and a faint ripple of discomfort.
The hall grew lively, voices climbing as the debate swelled. Now they marveled at the flood of new talents rising to the fore. Unlike eras past, when only a rare few shone with Supreme Constitutions, now more than a dozen stood out, and even lesser-known names were stepping up to challenge the titans of old.
"It's not merely the quantity that's astonishing," the Duchess interjected, her voice sharp and her eyes cutting, barging into the discussion unbidden. "Some of these new constitutions possess the power to outshine the Supreme ones we're familiar with."
The second concubine chimed in swiftly.
"Indeed. There are so many still lacking proper designation… Some could potentially rival the finest physiques of yore, yet they are so novel that their full capabilities remain unknown to us."
The conversation buzzed with energy, ideas volleying across the table, and soon the younger voices joined the fray.
"So, what do you all think? Who's the strongest among the current prodigies?" Yang Chen, the Duchess's second son, asked, his eager excitement pulling everyone into the fold.
Before anyone could reply, he barreled on.
"In my opinion, it's the Sacred Son of the Primordial Holy Land. He possesses the Primordial Divine Physique, ranked third among the most powerful ever recorded."
Every phrase, every gesture at that dinner seemed to pulse with both promise and provocation. Amid the crisscrossing voices—laced with mistrust and hope—the air thrummed with destiny and doubt, as unpredictable as the sky beyond the walls.
Yang Chen's words lingered, and the Duchess's brow creased, irritation mingling with a jealousy she kept under wraps.
"I dislike the thought of anyone surpassing my sons," she murmured, her voice tight, betraying a mix of command and vulnerability.
Nearby, her eldest son pressed his lips thin, his eyes glinting with muted fury. He'd always carried pride in his skills, but he masked it with a defiant stare. "If I'm so capable, why does this trouble me so?" he thought, flicking a quick glance at his brother.
Nael, silent until now, observed it all with a gaze both cool and piercing. To him, these quarrels felt like childish spats—petty beside the greater forces at play.
One of the Patriarch's sons spoke up, his tone soothing, aiming to ease the rising friction.
"However, the Ancestral Dragon physique that my brother possesses is exceptionally rare. It's ranked among the top twenty, which surely holds significant weight."
But his words only sharpened the critical stares. Everyone knew the Ancestral Dragon, though impressive, couldn't match the ten supreme constitutions, and the new, half-known ones already hinted at a power worth reckoning.
It was then that Nael chose to speak, his manner calm yet exact, his voice slicing through the room like a blade.
"Engaging in comparisons is futile; it's like chasing ever-shifting shadows. What truly matters is not what you're born with, but what you make of it. A remarkable physique is meaningless without the will, the intellect, and the determination to wield it—otherwise, it's merely a decorative trinket."
His words settled heavily, forcing a pause as every mind turned inward. Nael hadn't just laid bare a truth; he'd prodded at those who leaned too hard on titles or lineage.
The air, once crackling with rivalry, stilled for a breath. Every face showed they'd grasped it, and the silence hinted at something fresh and unavoidable.
"It's not merely possessing qualities that propels you forward," Nael continued, his firm voice reverberating through the hall. "It's what you harbor within that transforms opportunity into reality, that converts weakness into triumph. Do not be deceived by names or rankings. True power resides in altering the seemingly immutable."
As he spoke, the atmosphere grew dense, weaving the urge to rise with the quiet fear of falling short. For a fleeting second, everyone reconsidered what held real weight.
With a handful of words, Nael dismantled the petty bickering and tossed out a silent dare: to push past the hand dealt by fate or family, to seize what only grit and clarity could win.
"We must forge our own path, even if it appears preordained," he thought, returning to his meal with a poise that lent each motion a quiet gravity.
Yang Chen tried to counter, but his voice faltered.
"So, are you suggesting that constitutions are meaningless?" he asked, his tone shaky, lacking its earlier fire.
Nael turned to him, his stare icy and unwavering, leaving no cracks for doubt to slip through.
"That's not what I said," he replied, his conviction a steady flame. "I'm asserting that those who depend solely on their innate gifts will never attain genuine power. True power isn't bestowed; it must be pursued and claimed."
His words hung there, bold and unyielding, impossible to brush aside. Even Old Yang, ever ready with a quip, stayed quiet, eyeing Nael with a spark of fresh curiosity.
The Duchess, a touch flustered, tried to soften the mood.
"In any case, this era is among the most remarkable we've witnessed. It's undeniable that exceptional talents are surfacing."
Nael gave a slight tilt of his head, a subtle nod that said he knew he'd already rattled their thoughts. As the others slipped back into talk, he ate on, his mind drifting far from the clamor. To him, these debates were just noise—hollow echoes. He had no need to prove himself to anyone; the only measure that mattered was his own, and the road ahead stretched long and uncharted.
Across the table, little Xue, the Duchess's youngest, lifted her head, her eyes alight with unguarded wonder.
"In my view, the strongest is the Holy Son of the Divine Light Holy Land," she said, her voice soft yet spilling over with awe. "He possesses the Innate Dao Body. It's as if he was destined to be the greatest."
Her fervor was so vivid it seemed to hum in the air. Her dreamy stare revealed a heart already claimed, much to the Duchess's quiet dismay—she bristled at her daughter's enchantment with someone beyond her grasp.
The tension had only just begun to simmer when Li Yue, the second concubine, stepped in, her voice steady and arresting.
"And what of the Holy Daughter of the Eternal Wisdom Holy Land? She excels in her craft. Rumor has it she possesses a mysterious constitution, one of the ten supreme. Despite her reticence, her talent is said to eclipse that of many renowned physiques."