Novel Full Chapter 1102 - 1102: My Price is Same!
The bamboo grove outside Kent’s pavilion was quiet that night, silver moonlight dripping through the leaves like falling silk. His cauldron—battered bronze with faintly glowing dragon etchings—hovered silently at his side, following him wherever he paced. He had grown used to its presence, the weight of its spirit brushing against his soul with each breath.
The stillness broke with the sound of soft steps. A figure approached, cloaked in dark blue robes, beard long, eyes gleaming like deep water. It was the old envoy of the Yellow Blossom River Prince.
“Kent King.” The man bowed with a grace that carried both humility and the weight of authority. “I come on behalf of my master.”
Kent turned, his expression unreadable, though his cauldron hummed faintly as if it recognized intent. “The prince sends his shadow so soon? What does he want?”
The envoy’s smile was thin, almost kindly. “Not shadow—opportunity. His Highness admired your performance today. The cauldron that follows you… it is no ordinary treasure. My master wishes to make an exchange.”
Kent raised a brow. “Exchange?”
“Yes,” the envoy said smoothly, his hands folded behind his back. “The prince offers wealth beyond imagination. Spirit stones, treasures, cultivation manuals. Entire trade routes under your name. In return, you will part with that cauldron. Its spirit has awakened—under the prince’s hand, it could ascend to heights unimaginable.”
Silence followed. The cauldron hovered closer to Kent, as if guarding him. Then, slowly, Kent’s lips curved into laughter.
“Part with it?” His laughter deepened, rich and mocking. “Do you think a cauldron with a spirit can be given away? This treasure is bound to me, blood to blood, soul to soul. To rip it away is to tear my spirit itself. Even if I wanted, it would not obey another.”
The envoy’s smile faltered, though only slightly. “Everything has a price. My prince does not accept refusal lightly.”
Kent’s eyes sharpened, his tone now edged with steel. “Then let him learn. This cauldron is not his, and never will be. To reach for it is to reach into my soul—and I do not permit thieves, whether dressed as princes or beggars.”
The envoy studied him, then inclined his head faintly. “Very well. If the cauldron cannot be touched, then perhaps the potion it brewed may be.”
His eyes glimmered as he leaned forward slightly. “The Nine Lotus Bewitching Potion. No ordinary brew, no ordinary grade. His Highness desires it. Name your price.”
Kent’s smile thinned, but his voice was steady. “Three thousand Academy points—the same reward the Academy promised for the victor. And more. A chance to enter the Memory Pond.”
The envoy stiffened. “The pond? That is beyond—”
Kent cut him off with a flick of his hand. “I do not care what is beyond or within reach. If your prince wants the potion, that is my price. Three thousand points and the pond. No less.”
For the first time, the envoy’s composure cracked. “Arrogant child! Do you think you can dictate terms to the Yellow Blossom River Prince?”
Kent stepped forward, the cauldron glowing faintly at his side, its spirit humming with quiet menace. “I am not dictating. I am stating truth. This potion was born of heaven’s lightning and Nirvana flame. Even your prince cannot buy such a thing twice. If he desires it, he pays. If he does not—then I will find another who does. Perhaps a rival. Perhaps an enemy.”
The envoy’s teeth ground together, but he saw the resolve in Kent’s eyes. The killing intent that had silenced the courtyard earlier still lingered in his presence, a storm wrapped in calm flesh.
Finally, the old man exhaled slowly. “Very well. I will carry your words back. But remember this—there are prices greater than points or ponds. When you draw the prince’s gaze, you may find it is not so easy to step away.”
Kent’s answer was cold, final. “Then let him look. The sky does not bow.”
The envoy bowed stiffly, his robe whispering against the grass, and vanished into the night like a shadow dispersing into water.
The prince’s pavilion was alight with lanterns when the envoy returned. Musicians had been dismissed, attendants sent away. Only the prince remained seated on his high-chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the carved armrest.
The envoy bowed low. “Your Highness. I spoke with him.”
The prince’s gaze flicked over, sharp. “And?”
“He laughed at the offer of exchange.” The old man’s tone was clipped, measured. “The cauldron is soul-bound. It will not obey another. He says to take it is to rip his spirit apart.”
The prince’s brows lowered. “So be it. And the potion?”
The envoy hesitated, then forced the words out. “He demands three thousand Academy points—and…” He bowed his head further. “…a place in the Memory Pond.”
The hall fell silent.
The prince’s fingers stilled. His attendants glanced nervously at one another, waiting for an outburst. Instead, the prince only leaned-back slowly, his eyes narrowing as if weighing scales invisible to all but him.
“Three thousand points…” he murmured. “That is nothing. But the pond…”
His voice trailed off, his expression unreadable.
The envoy risked a glance upward. “Your Highness, this boy… he does not fear you. He speaks as if the world itself must bargain with him.”
The prince’s lips curved faintly, not in anger but in something darker. “That arrogance… is not ignorance. It is confidence. Dangerous confidence.”
He tapped the armrest once more, his eyes burning now with a strange hunger. “Good. Let him think himself the sky. We will see soon enough if the sky bends—or if it shatters.”
The lanterns flickered, shadows dancing like restless spirits.
Meanwhile Kent is studying the cauldron in surprise. Because he also never expected the ordinary cauldron to wake up its spirit out of nowhere. He can feel the cauldron’s spirit connection.
The inner voice is very hoarse and Kent can’t understand it fully. “What is it trying to say?” Kent thought as he placed ear on it’s metallic surface.
Like a new born it was following him everywhere.