"Explain this! Someone explain this right now!"Damon’s voice split the air like a cracked whip. The grand hall of the clan hall, once heavy with smug expectation, collapsed into pure noise.Lucas stood motionless in the center of the dais. He felt the cold air pressing against his exposed chest where the crimson branding iron had struck only seconds before. There was no ash. There was no charred flesh. There was no mark of servitude burned into his skin."The brand failed," an old elder whispered, staggering back two steps. "The Ancestral Soul Brand has never failed in four hundred years.""Silence!" Damon roared, his face twisting into a hideous, purple rage. He spun on the master ritualist, grabbing the old man by the silk collar of his robes. "You swapped the iron! You tampered with the spirit ink!""My Lord, I swear on my cultivator core!" The ritualist trembled, his knees hitting the marble floor. "The ink came directly from the vault! The array was drawn by the High Elders!"Lu

"Check the dark corners, he's probably already rotted into a puddle of grease."The lead assassin’s voice rasped against the damp stone walls of the Cursed Wing. Three figures in midnight-black leather dropped lightly onto the flagstones, their muffled boots making no sound against the filth.Lucas sat perfectly still in the shadowed alcove, his back resting against the icy rock face. He did not move a muscle, but his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird."Master Damon said to bring back his head," the second assassin hissed, flicking his wrist to ignite a sphere of crackling crimson flame above his palm. "I don't care if he's half-eaten by miasma, just cut it off so we can collect our spirit stones and leave this foul pit.""Keep your voice down, idiot," the third assassin grunted, pulling two curved bone daggers from his belt. "He was a coreless cripple when they threw him in here two days ago. A normal person dies in six hours from the air alone. He's dead.""Let's m

"Hold him flat!" Senior Physician Marcus roared, his voice echoing across the damp flagstones of the Cursed Wing. "He is an infected cripple! The Vice-Patriarch ordered a full spinal extraction to protect the clan!"Lucas did not scream as the two armored guards slammed his shoulders down onto the stone floor.The cold iron gauntlets dug viciously into his collarbones, but Lucas kept his gaze locked on Marcus’s face. Behind the three physicians, a dozen lesser nobles and elders stood near the shattered entrance gate. Jessica stood among them, her silk dress gathered tightly in her hands as she watched with cold, distant eyes."His spiritual sea is entirely dry," Marcus declared loudly, turning toward the crowd of watching nobles so every word carried across the chamber. "The miasma has rotted his internal organs. He is permanently crippled, his meridians are beyond repair, and his presence here threatens the safety of the entire inner estate.""Then execute the disposal procedure!" an

"Keep your head down and move fast," Lucas whispered, pressing the small bundle of spirit stones into Esther's hands. "The night patrol doubled their shifts after the blast in the east hall."Esther nodded quickly, her fingers trembling against his palm as she tucked the heavy pouch deep into her inner cloak pocket."Damon called a emergency meeting of the clan elders two hours ago," Esther murmured, her breath fogging in the frigid subterranean air. "He's telling everyone that you've been consumed by demonic madness. He brought in two executioners from the outer gates.""Let him bring forty," Lucas said, his voice flat and steady. "He is spending gold on corpses while the array under his feet belongs to me."He stepped back into the pitch-black shadows of the Cursed Wing, his posture straight, his shoulders broad and square.The hunch he had feigned for months was gone. His eyes, once dull and bloodshot from the dark miasma, now held a deep, bottomless clarity that seemed to drink in

"Kill him now!" Damon screamed, his voice cracking into a shrill, hysterical screech that shattered the stunned silence of the banquet hall. "He used a forbidden artifact! He's a demonic spy trying to destroy the Peterson clan!"The crimson beam projected by the unfolded Celestial Dragon-Lock still burned through the ruined ceiling, casting a terrifying golden glow across the frozen crowd of fifty high-ranking nobles.Lucas stood motionless in the center of the hall, his eyes cold and dark as he watched Damon scramble down from the high dais."Silence your mouth, Damon," Elder Vane hissed, stepping out with a pale face as he grabbed Damon's shoulder. "The Imperial Fleet is watching that light! We cannot execute him in cold blood while the beacon is active!"Damon slapped Vane's hand away, his chest heaving like a wounded beast, his eyes wide and bloodshot."We don't execute him as a prisoner!" Damon shouted, turning toward the terrified nobles and family elders, his hands shaking viol