In a Fantasy World as Cannon Fodder, I Got Entangled with the Heroine - Chapter 39

Chapter 39: Complete Opposition

Translation by: Weebsread👹

“A few days ago?” Jiang Qian frowned, his brow creasing with concern. He pressed on, “The beast that attacked Duan Yuqing—do you know what it was?”

Wu Jinfeng shook her head slowly, admitting, “I’m not sure. Maybe the Holy Maiden would know. The Holy Son only allowed her into his rooms—he wouldn’t let anyone else, not even me.”

“I see. You can go now.”

“Alright, I’ll take my leave.” With a small bow, Wu Jinfeng turned and exited.

Duan Yuqing… That figure did look a lot like him.

Should I ask Jiang Zixuan about this? No, better not—she’s likely already aligned with the Crown Prince, just like Duan Yuqing.

There’s no point in asking.

Jiang Qian shook his head. After closing the door, he returned to his chamber to resume cultivating the Myriad Demon Qilin Codex.

…

Two days later.

…

Jiang Qian stood dressed in immaculate white robes, a white jade crown tying back his hair. He looked every bit the refined young lord.

“Jiang Qian, how do I look in this?” Bai Piaoxue spun before him, her pale violet dress swirling, with a sheer white shawl cascading over her shoulders. Her lips, tinted in a gentle rose, gave her an ethereal, fairy-like air.

Jiang Qian smiled softly. “You look beautiful, Senior Sister Bai. This suits you perfectly.”

“Hee hee~” Delighted by his praise, Bai Piaoxue’s eyes curved with joy.

Just then—

Clap, clap, clap—

King Qin, Chen Shimin, strode into view, applauding as he approached. A faint smile played on his lips. “Senior Brother and Young Sect Mistress—now that’s a perfect pair. Truly a match made in heaven.”

“Let’s get going!”

At his words, Jiang Qian and Bai Piaoxue followed Chen Shimin out to the waiting carriage, leaving Azure Mountain Sect behind.

But calling it a “carriage” barely did it justice. It wasn’t drawn by ordinary horses, but by three Third Rank demonic beasts: Swiftgale Direwolves.

These direwolves were known across the land for their breathtaking speed and ease of training. Only the powerful or the immensely wealthy could afford to travel in style behind Swiftgale Direwolves.

Before long, they arrived at the venue—a massive river barge anchored by the water’s edge.

Inside, the gathering was already underway. Talented young cultivators from every major faction filled the main hall. At the seat of honor sat the Crown Prince, Chen Jianzhi, flanked by Duan Yuqing, Jiang Zixuan, and Hu Murui.

Led by Chen Shimin, Jiang Qian and Bai Piaoxue took seats in an unobtrusive corner.

No sooner had Jiang Qian sat down than his gaze locked on Hu Murui.

Hu Murui? When did she join the Crown Prince’s camp? I was sure she always remained neutral.

Why take a side now? Is the story already changing?

If Hu Murui is part of the Crown Prince’s faction now, could she have been the one who controlled that Fourth Rank beast to ambush me?

As if sensing his scrutiny, Hu Murui lowered her eyes, doing her best to avoid his gaze.

Jiang Qian caught her reaction and a suspicion formed in his mind, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Chen Shimin frowned. “I didn’t expect both the Holy Son and the Holy Maiden to end up in Chen Jianzhi’s camp, and now he’s even drawn in the Young Sect Mistress of the Beast Taming Sect. Things have gotten much more complicated.”

Bai Piaoxue glanced toward Duan Yuqing, hesitated, then leaned close to whisper in Jiang Qian’s ear, “Jiang Qian, don’t you think Duan Yuqing looks an awful lot like the masked man who attacked us the other day?”

“And I heard he was wounded by a beast just a few days ago. Isn’t that quite a coincidence?”

“Let’s just watch and see,” Jiang Qian replied calmly.

“Mm.” Bai Piaoxue nodded, falling silent.

At that moment, Chen Jianzhi rose, a genial smile spreading across his face. “Everyone here is among the finest young talents of Longyan Kingdom. As Crown Prince, it’s my privilege to welcome you all—thank you for attending.”

Chen Shimin and Jiang Qian shared a quiet, derisive chuckle.

Granting us this honor? Please. This gathering isn’t even your idea—it’s an official royal event, not a private invitation. Chen Jianzhi’s little speech was just a polite reminder with a razor’s edge:

I am the Crown Prince. The throne will be mine. I speak for the royal family.

You’d best pay attention to which way the wind is blowing.

Just then, a young man in blue stood and smiled amiably. “Tradition dictates that the first round should be a contest of wit. Shall we begin?”

“A contest of wit? How dull!” someone groaned. “Let’s get straight to the duels. Every year, the poem-writing goes on and on—what’s the point?”

“Yeah, who cares about clever words? We’re cultivators, not scholars. Let’s fight and be done with it!”

A ripple of agreement passed through the hall. Most present clearly favored martial contests over literary ones.

Chen Jianzhi seized the moment. “Since everyone favors martial prowess, let’s do just that.”

“But,” he added, eyes glinting, “we can’t throw tradition away completely. How about this: I’ll send someone from my side, and King Qin can send someone from his. Fair enough?”

This cunning snake—he’s putting me on the spot!

Chen Shimin turned to Jiang Qian and muttered, “Senior Brother, can you compose poetry? If not, we might as well concede!”

“I’ll give it a try,” Jiang Qian replied placidly.

That bastard Chen Jianzhi is sure to send Duan Yuqing—his favorite lapdog.

Since I’m already standing against Duan Yuqing, why not make things interesting?

Seeing Jiang Qian’s calm confidence, Chen Shimin decided to trust him.

With new resolve, he stood and declared, “Since His Highness insists, it would be rude for us to refuse.”

Chen Jianzhi let out a cold, mirthless laugh.

His gaze slid to Duan Yuqing. “Holy Son, I’ll leave this to you.”

“Understood.” Duan Yuqing rose and strode to the center of the hall.

Jiang Qian followed, standing opposite him under the assembly’s watchful eyes.

Hands folded behind his back, Jiang Qian gave Duan Yuqing a lazy, lopsided smile. “Holy Son, is your back still sore?”

“Who would have imagined someone as mighty as you could be wounded by a mere demonic beast?”

Duan Yuqing’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he snorted. “Enough talk. Will you compose first, or shall I?”

“You’re the Holy Son, after all. Please, go ahead. I’m just an ordinary disciple—it wouldn’t be right to steal your thunder.” Jiang Qian’s tone was easy, a smile lingering on his lips.

Please—I’ve memorized three hundred Tang poems. With five thousand years of Huaxia culture behind me, why would I lose to this pompous turtle?

Duan Yuqing took a deep breath and began to recite—a rousing, heroic verse about battle and perseverance.

As his poem concluded, a wave of excitement swept the room.

“Magnificent! Inspired!”

“Even a rough cultivator like me can feel the power in that poem—worthy of the Azure Mountain Sect’s Holy Son!”

“Exactly! He’s not just strong, he’s brilliant.”

“That’s Jiang Qian up next, right? He doesn’t look like much. No way he can top Duan Yuqing.”

“Of course not—no one here could.”

…

Surrounded by a rising tide of praise, Duan Yuqing smiled smugly. “Your turn. Or are you just putting on a show?”

“Jiang Qian…” Bai Piaoxue watched anxiously, worry shadowing her features.