Chapter 12

"How long do you plan on sitting in the bath? You'll catch a cold," Jing exclaimed, worry etched on her face as she observed Zhao Yang, who had awakened and was shivering. Jing had remained by his side for nearly an hour while he slept in the water. Eventually, Zhao Yang decided to rise from the tub, his body wrinkled from the prolonged soak. Jing handed him a towel and fetched fresh clothes. She was aware of the changes taking place within Zhao Yang.

"Jing, arrange for someone to monitor the Prime Minister's son. Keep me updated on his activities, the people he meets, and determine his level of strength," Zhao Yang instructed while dressing himself.

Before embarking on the search for his parents and Li Jun, Zhao Yang had a promise to fulfill—to avenge the real Zhao Yang's death by confronting those responsible. Among the entire capital city, only the Prime Minister's son had the audacity to harm the grandson of a respected general, owing to his influential aunt's status as a royal concubine. These individuals would soon face the consequences of their actions.

Days passed, during which Zhao Yang's people closely observed the Prime Minister's son. Once they gathered enough information, Zhao Yang devised a plan. To his satisfaction, the Prime Minister's son, accompanied by a few other noble youths who despised Zhao Yang and harbored murderous intentions but lacked the courage to act, decided to go camping. Unbeknownst to anyone outside the Zhao Mansion, Zhao Yang possessed the ability to cultivate. In the eyes of the outside world, he remained a weak and pitiful young master. Stealthily, Zhao Yang, Jing, and a select group of skilled guards followed the noble group.

From a distance, Zhao Yang and his team silently watched as the group of youngsters chatted and laughed. Occasionally, they spoke ill of Zhao Yang, expressing their desires for him to be eliminated. Zhao Yang couldn't help but chuckle. The real Zhao Yang had perished long ago, and now he sought revenge on his behalf. Waiting patiently until nightfall when the noble youths retreated to their respective tents, Jing and the others dressed in all black attire, each bearing a single red rose on their backs, their faces concealed. Zhao Yang, in contrast, did not wear all black and left his face exposed. He gestured for them to prepare for the imminent assault.

Having thoroughly reviewed the plan with his team, Zhao Yang made it clear that he would be the one confronting the Prime Minister's son. With a group of ten people, including Jing, they stealthily approached the cluster of tents.

 Zhao Yang nonchalantly made his way toward the targeted tent, allowing the others to enter the remaining tents and quickly restrain their occupants. The efficiency of his well-trained guards was a testament to the skills instilled in them by his brother and grandfather.

Upon reaching the tent site, Zhao Yang found that everyone had been moved except for the one housing the PM's son. He opened the tent doors and stepped inside, observing the son sleeping peacefully. A mischievous smile played across his lips. Exiting the tent, Zhao Yang proceeded to set the surrounding tents ablaze. The tents were strategically spaced, making it convenient for him to ignite them without venturing too far. The thrill of wielding his fire powers filled him with amusement.

The PM's son, initially disregarding the scent of smoke, had closed his eyes. But as the smell grew stronger and the night breeze turned scorching, he jolted awake. His widened eyes took in the bright red glow on either side. Alarmed, he hurriedly left his tent, only to witness the surrounding tents reduced to ashes. Panic overwhelmed him as he realized his friends were trapped within. However, being someone who lacked regard for others' lives, he focused on escaping the encroaching flames.

As he sprinted away, laughter echoed from ahead. Blinded by smoke, he strained to see multiple figures approaching. At first, he hoped they had come to his aid upon witnessing the fire. But within seconds, his smile vanished. Standing before him was none other than Zhao Yang, the person he despised the most. His eyes betrayed his deep-seated hatred. In an instant, Zhao Yang extinguished the fires with a flick of his hand, leaving behind a pile of ash. Jing produced a seat from her space bag, and Zhao Yang calmly took a seat, his gaze fixed on the PM's son.

"Zhao Yang, was this your doing? Did you start this fire?" the PM's son exclaimed, puffing his chest and attempting to appear serious. Zhao Yang couldn't help but burst into laughter at his feeble attempt.

"Hahaha! Of course, it was me. And by all means, go and tell your father... that is, if you manage to make it back to the capital alive," Zhao Yang replied with a malevolent glint in his eyes. The PM's son couldn't help but shudder at the sight, wondering how the once bullied Zhao Yang had transformed into this formidable figure.

"Ha ha ha, you must be kidding me," the PM's son sneered, his contempt evident. He couldn't fathom how someone as weak as Zhao Yang could have set the tents on fire. In his mind, someone else must be behind this. After all, Zhao Yang was so feeble that he couldn't even defend himself against a child, let alone conjure flames. Although he did witness the fire vanish with a mere flick of Zhao Yang's hand.

"Why can't I set these tents on fire?" Zhao Yang responded, an amused glint in his eyes as he addressed the PM's son. The boy regarded Zhao Yang as if he were a fool, scoffing at his words.

"These tents are crafted from a special material designed to resist fire, unless faced with a fire user. You, someone incapable of cultivation, couldn't possibly ignite them," Zhao Yang smirked, feeling a twinge of pity for his helpless victim. With an evil smirk, he continued to taunt the PM's son. Jing, standing by Zhao Yang's side, couldn't help but feel sorry for the young boy standing before them. Though surrounded, the PM's son seemed oblivious to the fact that escape was futile.

Rising from his seat, Zhao Yang approached the trembling boy. Raising his hand, a bright red flame formed within his palm. The sight petrified the PM's son, who had regarded Zhao Yang as a useless cultivator. How was he capable of summoning fire? Zhao Yang hurled the fireball toward the tent, which instantly erupted in flames. As the scene unfolded before him, the PM's son's legs trembled. Reflecting on his predicament, he couldn't help but laugh at his own folly—he was truly in deep trouble. He turned to face Zhao Yang, who regarded him not as a human, but as an animal.