16: I advocate for MILF supremacy!
I am not into lolis!
16: Chapter 16: I advocate for MILF supremacy!
I am not into lolis!
A splitting headache tore through Xu Xuandong’s temples the moment his eyes flickered open.
Groaning, he pressed the back of his hand against his forehead, feeling as though his skull had been put through a spiritual vice.
“What happened…” he rasped out, his voice hoarse.
“Feels like the hangover of the century…” “You drank far too much and passed out, Your Highness.” A soft, melodic voice drifted from the side of the grand bed.
Xuandong turned his head toward the sound.
Sitting quietly on a stool near the velvet canopy was the crimson-haired girl—the ‘gift’ presented to him by Shangguan Wei’er.
“Oh…
I see,” Xuandong muttered, letting his arm drop back onto the silk mattress as the fog in his brain began to clear.
Memories of the previous evening flooded back.
It had been his and his twin sister Xu Xia’s birthday celebration.
After the official gifting ceremony, he had moved through the banqueting hall socializing with the high-ranking guests.
It was during that gathering that Shangguan Wei’er had approached him, presenting this girl as a calculated test under the guise of a birthday tribute.
Examining her now in the morning light, Xuandong couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of amusement.
With her vibrant, flowing red hair and small, delicate features, she looked like a chibi version of Ariel from The Little Mermaid.
It was a hilarious coincidence, considering she actually possessed a rare mermaid bloodline—selectively bred specifically for her traits.
Xuandong shook his head, forcing his focus back.
He had accepted the girl during the party primarily to secure Shangguan Wei’er’s cooperation.
While he knew better than to trust either Shangguan Wei’er or this nameless girl, he needed their leverage within the imperial network.
Beyond political calculation, however, a small part of him felt a quiet pity for her.
Seeing her empty, subservient eyes reminded him vividly of his own dark days of existential dread before his martial soul awakened, back when he had suffered a silent identity crisis between his past life and his present reality.
So, he had taken her in.
Then, his mind shifted to the grand ball that followed.
The royal dance had begun formally.
His father, Emperor Xu, and his mother, the Empress, had opened the floor with grace, followed by Xuandong and his twin sister Xu Xia taking the second dance.
Utilizing his current Bard class abilities, Xuandong had effortlessly captivated the entire audience, his fluid movements and rhythmic presence holding the hall spellbound.
Once the formal dances concluded, the ball opened up to everyone.
Partners paired off across the grand hall—with the notable exception of his eldest sister, Xu Mie’er, who had nearly blasted a poor, overly ambitious noble soul into oblivion with a spirit weapon when he dared ask for her hand.
Amidst the swirling crowd, Xuandong had caught the nameless crimson-haired girl staring at him from the shadows.
Stepping over, he extended his hand and led her onto the dance floor.
To his surprise, she moved with flawless elegance.
She must have been rigorously trained as a courtesan, he had concluded in that moment, meaning she’s likely skilled in almost every fine art.
Their combined performance instantly drew every eye in the room.
As they moved together to the rhythm, Xuandong had noticed a faint flicker of genuine emotion spark within her previously dead eyes, culminating in a subtle, breathtaking smile.
Seeing that spark, Xuandong had escorted her over to the musical stage.
“Can you sing?” he had asked.
She had given a quiet nod.
“I can.” Xuandong smirked, pulling out a grand zither.
“Time to turn this place upside down.” That was the exact moment all hell had broken loose.
Xuandong unleashed his max-level Bard ability, Bardic Inspiration, infusing the instrument with pure, chaotic spiritual resonance.
The moment the girl’s voice joined his music, an unprecedented harmony erupted.
The refined atmosphere of the imperial court completely shattered.
The venue descended into utter madness.
Nobles, court officials, and stern generals were suddenly laughing, dancing wildly, and leaping over tables.
An elderly duke nearly snapped his lower back attempting an absurd spin.
The magical music hit anyone with a three-ring cultivation or lower instantly, stripping away their inhibitions.
While those at the third ring or higher possessed enough mental defense to resist the effect, most chose not to—they were having far too much fun, while others simply gave in and joined the chaotic party.
In less than a moment, the high-society ball was transformed into a wild, neon-energy disco club.
People were unceremoniously making out in the curtained alcoves and tossing formal headpieces into the air.
Spotting a group of high-ranking nobles chugging wine near the banquet tables, Xuandong had stumbled over to teach them modern Earth drinking games.
Before he completely blacked out, he clearly remembered having Duke Yang hold him upside down by his ankles while wine was poured straight through a funnel into his mouth.
After that…
total blackness.
Xuandong rubbed his throbbing temples and looked at the girl.
“What…
what did I do after the funnel?” The girl looked back at him, her lips twitching slightly into an almost-invisible arc.
“You led an army of rats out of the palace kitchens, Your Highness.
You began teaching them how to sync-dance, and then you led the rats, along with half of the banquet guests, out into the main city streets.
The entire capital spent the night dancing and celebrating.” Xuandong blinked once.
Twice.
He swallowed hard.
“Did I…
spout anything I shouldn’t have?
Strategic secrets?
State affairs?” She looked at him, appearing to have a genuinely hard time choosing what details to deliver.
“Just say whatever would make people hunt me down,” Xuandong groaned, bracing himself.
“You started flirting with a baroness right in front of her teenage son,” she reported calmly.
“Then you walked up to an earl and hit on his wife.
When a court official asked why you kept pursuing older married women, you shouted…” She paused, clearing her throat quietly.
“You shouted: ‘I advocate for MILF supremacy!
I am not into lolis!'” “Stop.
Please, stop,” Xuandong pleaded, slapping a hand over his face in sheer mortification.
He took a deep breath, realizing that if he had actually leaked high-level political secrets during his tirade, the three grand old men watching over him would have knocked him unconscious on the spot.
“What happened after my statement on…
aesthetics?” he asked carefully.
“The royal guards were dispatched, captured you, and brought you back to your bedchamber,” she replied.
“Her Majesty the Empress has officially grounded you for a full month…
and has strictly forbidden you from playing music again.” As she uttered the last sentence, Xuandong noticed the tiny spark of light that had brightened her eyes over the past day visibly fade away.
Xuandong let out a soft chuckle, his mortification melting into gentle warmth.
“Well…
when it’s just the two of us in private, we can still play music and sing whenever we want.” The girl’s head snapped up slightly, the light returning to her golden-tinted eyes with renewed brightness.
“I need to rest my head for a bit,” Xuandong said softly.
Understanding that he wished to be left alone, she bowed respectfully and quietly stepped out of the bedchamber, closing the heavy doors behind her.
The moment the latch clicked shut, three silent ripples distorted the air in the center of the room.
Three elderly figures materialized out of thin air: Ye Guan, Kong Deming, and Duke Yang.
Xuandong didn’t even bother sitting up, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Are you guys homeless?
Don’t you have anywhere other than my bedroom to hang out at?” The three powerhouses shared a low chuckle.
Ye Guan stepped forward, offering a mild bow.
“Apologies for entering without knocking, Your Highness, but our communications must remain strictly hidden from court eyes.” Xuandong turned his gaze toward the holy elder.
Seeing Ye Guan’s slightly pale complexion, he asked, “How are you feeling, Senior Ye?” Hearing the Crown Prince’s genuine concern, Ye Guan’s mood brightened visibly.
“I only require a week of quiet rest to fully recover my vitality, Your Highness.” Despite his tired appearance, both Kong Deming and Duke Yang looked at Ye Guan with a mixture of profound respect and subtle envy.
Surviving and overcoming a clash of that caliber was no small feat.
Xuandong nodded approvingly.
“Good.
Don’t push yourself unnecessarily.
Just tell the court you are stepping away to investigate a high-level lead, and go rest.” The three elders pulled up chairs, sitting around his bed.
Hall Master Kong Deming leaned forward, his sharp eyes focused.
“Your Highness, please take out the carving knife you received as a birthday gift.” Xuandong reached into his spatial storage and produced the obscure blade—a gift presented by a noble representing the natural political faction, who claimed it was an unranked artifact equivalent to the top 20 on the famous Carving Knife Leaderboard.
The moment Xuandong had touched it at the party, his mental senses had screamed with danger.
He placed the dark metal knife on the tea table.
The three elders leaned in.
Ye Guan’s brow furrowed sharply, a look of visceral disgust crossing his face.
“There is a deeply foul, malignant energy bound within this metal.” Kong Deming didn’t speak.
Raising his right hand, he carved an intricate, glowing rune directly into the air with his fingertip and flicked it toward the blade.
The moment the magic rune touched the metal, a faint popping sound echoed.
A miniature, metallic orb ejected from the hilt, rolling onto the table.
Without the orb’s masking effect, the knife violently altered its physical shape.
The outer metal twisted, revealing a bone-like, ominous black blade that radiated a sickening, cold miasma.
Kong Deming stared at the revealed form, muttering under his breath, “The Soul-Devouring Knife…” Looking up at Xuandong, Kong Deming explained its dark history.
Decades ago, a brilliant young Soul Master had acquired this cursed blade.
Driven mad by its insidious, soul-corrupting energy, he eventually fell into darkness and became a notorious Evil Soul Master.
He was eventually slain by the experts of Shrek Academy, but the blade had vanished from the continent without a trace—until now.
Kong Deming picked up the tiny metallic orb that had popped out earlier.
“This orb is a Grade 8 military-grade concealment soul tool.
It is designed specifically to mask high-tier or forbidden soul tools under mundane disguises to pass through strict border inspections unnoticed.” Ye Guan’s aura chilled.
He turned his head toward Duke Yang.
“Who was the noble that handed this death trap to His Highness?” Duke Yang scoffed with heavy disdain.
“A two-faced snake of a baron.
A mercenary aristocrat who would execute the bidding of anyone as long as the coin is heavy enough.” Xuandong’s eyes narrowed as he pieced the tactical picture together.
“They tried to assassinate me through mental corruption.
My ‘mentally unstable’ persona is well known across the court…
Whoever handed this over hoped the blade’s dark aura would push my mind over the edge, causing me to go completely mad and destroy myself.” Ye Guan leaned back, his golden eyes cold.
“I believe I know who pulls that baron’s strings.
Count Liu.” Xuandong blinked, genuinely puzzled.
“Count Liu?
I don’t even remember having a conversation with the man.
What grudge does he hold against me?” Ye Guan looked at the young prince with a dry expression.
“He has no personal grudge with you, Your Highness.
But he has been relentlessly courting your eldest sister, Princess Xu Mie’er, for years—and she has rejected him every single time.” The political logic clicked instantly in Xuandong’s head.
“I see…” Xuandong muttered, a cold smirk touching his lips.
“If I go mad and die, the Emperor loses his sole male heir.
Under traditional imperial succession laws during a crisis, Father would be forced to fast-track Eldest Sister’s marriage so she can secure the throne with a prince-consort.
That incel Liu thought he could have me quietly removed, position himself as her husband, and take control of the empire.” Xuandong looked at Ye Guan.
“Which political faction does Count Liu officially belong to?” “Your father’s faction,” Ye Guan replied solemnly.
“The Imperial Loyalist faction.” Xuandong’s eyes turned dangerously sharp.
A snake inside their own house.
“He is willing to betray my family’s faction and burn the court down just to force my sister into his bed.” He reached out and casually picked up the dark blade.
“I’ll keep the knife.” None of the three elders opposed his decision, trusting his judgment completely.
“Now…
regarding the Holy Spirit Cult,” Duke Yang spoke up, his tone shifting into heavy gravity.
“How do we handle the aftermath of slaying Zhongli Wu?” Xuandong rested his chin on his hand.
“With how brutally Zhongli Wu was eliminated, the Cult’s upper echelon will assume a hidden Limit Douluo is stationed permanently inside the capital.
They will not dare make a overt move for now, but we must remain utterly vigilant not to alert their scouts.” Internally, Xuandong couldn’t help but shake his head at the ridiculous reality of the situation.
Zhongli Wu…
a Rank 98 Super Douluo, the master of the premier evil cult on the continent, died a worse death than Gojo.
At least Gojo had put up an epic, continent-shaking battle against Sukuna.
Zhongli Wu had died like a dog in an alley—no grand fight, no earth-shattering explosions, just completely erased from existence without a single soul outside this room ever knowing how he perished.
However, his death had yielded massive dividends.
The massive feedback of divine energy released by destroying such an high-tier evil entity had allowed Ye Guan’s Holy Angel martial soul to break through its long-standing bottleneck, elevating the Guardian from Rank 96 straight to Rank 97.
It was precisely that flawless victory that had earned Duke Yang’s absolute, unwavering allegiance to Xuandong.
Duke Yang shook his head with a breathless laugh.
“I still can’t believe that completely absurd plan actually worked…” Kong Deming didn’t speak, but the subtle gleam of respect in his eyes showed he shared the sentiment entirely.
Duke Yang then turned his sharp gaze back to Ye Guan.
“Alright, old pigeon.
Spill it.
How on earth did you manage to make Lu Wang spit out fifty percent of his clan’s total wealth—and even carve away thirty percent of Prince Xu Gongfeng’s private assets—and hand it straight to Xuandong during the birthday party?” Ye Guan smiled faintly, remembering the sequence of events.
“When I was tasked with investigating the Evil Soul Master ambush targeted at His Highness near the imperial flea market, I sought out Xuandong for any subtle leads he might have noticed,” Ye Guan explained.
“His Highness explicitly told me to ignore Prince Xu Gongfeng for the moment and focus entirely on investigating Lu Wang.” Ye Guan’s eyes hardened.
“Following his direction, I uncovered ironclad physical evidence linking Lu Wang directly to the ambush.
But as I dug deeper into his private ledgers, I found something far more disturbing.
Lu Wang was actively conducting secret financial transactions with the Three Douluo Empires of the eastern continent.
He was preparing to sell out Xu Gongfeng’s entire faction to the enemy empires the moment the right price was offered.” BANG!
Duke Yang’s fist slammed down on his knee, his spirit power flaring in pure rage.
“That filthy, double-dealing traitor!
I’ll personally rip his head off!” Kong Deming’s face turned deathly cold, his jaw clenched in quiet fury.
Controlling his anger, Duke Yang turned to Xuandong, his breathing heavy.
“Your Highness, we have the evidence.
We can release these ledgers to the public court right now and have them executed for high treason.” Xuandong looked up, his tone eerily calm.
“Can you deal with a Limit Douluo?” The entire room went dead silent.
Duke Yang, Kong Deming, and Ye Guan all froze, their eyes narrowing sharply.
“Extirpating Lu Wang and pushing Xu Gongfeng into a corner is easy,” Xuandong said coldly.
“The hard part isn’t dealing with my uncle—it’s handling the Holy Spirit Cult’s retaliation when their shadow puppet gets exposed.
We do not act until our board is completely set.” Xuandong turned to Ye Guan.
“How many strategic scrolls did you hand over to Lu Wang during your private confrontation?” “Three scrolls,” Ye Guan confirmed.
“The first detailed the itemized gift list demanded for Your Highness’s birthday.
The second contained the physical proof of his assassination attempt on the Crown Prince.
The third held the full documentation of his treasonous collusion with the Three Empires.” Xuandong nodded slowly, a dark, calculating glint settling deep within his eyes.
“Perfect.
His end has already begun.” With their strategic alignment settled, the three elders faded back into the shadows, leaving the bedchamber as silently as they had arrived.
Xuandong sat quietly on his bed for a moment before calling out toward the hallway.
“Come in.” The heavy doors opened, and the crimson-haired girl stepped back into the room, bowing her head.
“Did you call for me, Your Highness?” Xuandong looked at her warmly.
“I never asked…
what name do you want to be called?” She lowered her eyes respectfully.
“I am Your Highness’s servant.
Whatever name you choose to bestow upon me shall be my name.” Xuandong leaned back.
“I don’t want to just give you a label.
I want the name you want.” She remained rigid, shaking her head softly.
“As a servant, I cannot make such a choice.
I will happily carry whatever title my master chooses.” Xuandong rubbed his chin, sighing playfully.
“Ah, you’re making this difficult for me.
I’m terrible at coming up with names…” He paused, an idea striking him.
“How about this?
You pick your first name, and I will choose your family name.” The girl froze.
For the first time in her memory, she had been given a choice over her own identity.
She stood rooted to the spot, her breath catching in her throat.
Xuandong didn’t urge her, nor did he interrupt the silence, patiently waiting as she processed the overwhelming concept of self-determination.
After a long minute, her small lips parted, muttering a soft, hesitant sound: “…M…
o…
o…
n.” Xuandong smiled softly.
“You like the moon?” She gave a small, genuine nod.
“Very well,” Xuandong declared, his eyes shining with gentle warmth.
“Then your last name shall be Light.
Moon Light.” Internally, a quiet, poetic thought drifted through Xuandong’s mind: No matter how bright and beautiful the moonlight shines upon the world…
it always leaves behind a shadow, unnoticed by anyone.
Standing up from his bed, Xu Xuandong walked over to her and extended his hand toward her.
“My name is Xu Xuandong.
It’s nice to meet you.” The girl’s shoulders trembled faintly.
Looking down at the outstretched hand of the Crown Prince, she slowly, hesitatingly raised her own small hand, placing her fingers within his palm.
“My name is Ying Yue…” she whispered, her voice no longer entirely hollow.
“At your service.”