Reborn as the Tyrant’s Heir

The Emperor's Edict

The seventy-two hours passed in a flash. Kael spent the time not in frantic preparation, but in quiet, ruthless cultivation. He absorbed the raw, potent spiritual energy from the Aethelred treasury vault, his Tyrant's Body absorbing it with a hungry ferocity. The black lotus in his dantian swirled faster, its petals growing sharper, its core burning brighter. He had broken through the Second Level of the Martial Master Realm, his body now feeling like a diamond forged in the heart of a star, a vessel of unyielding power. He was a weapon, and he was ready for the final confrontation.

On the third day, the Imperial delegation arrived. The very air outside the House of Aethelred seemed to hum with authority, a palpable sense of imperial might. The two Imperial Knights, clad in polished silver armor with the roaring lion crest of the empire, stood at the front gates, their presence alone enough to make any commoner tremble. Their faces were as stern and unyielding as the metal they wore. Behind them stood an Imperial Cultivator, a man in the same gray robes as the Grandmaster, his face impassive and his power a silent, oppressive force that settled over the entire house.

Lord Osric, a trembling puppet, greeted them at the front gates, his face pale and his hands shaking. He had been a man of power, but now he was nothing more than a slave to Kael's will. The Imperial Cultivator merely glanced at him, his gaze a dismissive sweep, as if looking at a piece of furniture. "We are here for the Aethelred heir. The one causing trouble." His voice was flat, bored, as if he were discussing a wild animal in need of taming, a simple pest to be dealt with and discarded.

Word of their arrival spread through the house like a wildfire. The few remaining servants and nobles, who had been hiding in their rooms, now peeked out, their faces a mix of terror and eager anticipation. They wanted to see the beast tamed, to see the monster put in his place. They wanted to see Kael's reign of terror end.

Kael walked out of the house and onto the front lawn. He was no longer in his worn tunic. He had found a simple, elegant black robe in the treasury, a stark contrast to the brilliant armor of the knights. He carried no weapon, his hands simply at his sides. The sunlight caught his face, illuminating the cold, ruthless calm in his eyes. He was a force of nature, not a man. He moved with a quiet certainty, his every step a testament to his newfound power.

The Imperial Cultivator’s eyes, which had been impassive, narrowed in a flicker of surprise. He had expected a crazed, violent youth, a wild beast. He had found a serene, terrifying being who exuded a quiet power that was both unsettling and profound. "You are the one?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "The Grandmaster's report was... peculiar."

Kael didn’t answer. He simply stared, his gaze unyielding, his silence a direct challenge to the Imperial Court's authority. He had no time for pleasantries, no need to explain himself to a subordinate. His presence was his only explanation, his power his only words.

The Imperial Cultivator took his silent defiance as a challenge. He raised a hand, and a wave of spiritual pressure, a hundred times more potent than the Grandmaster’s, surged toward Kael. It was an overwhelming force, a tidal wave of power meant to crush Kael's will and bring him to his knees. The two Imperial Knights drew their swords, their blades gleaming, ready to move in for the kill once Kael was incapacitated.

Kael's lips curled into a cold, triumphant smile. He didn't resist. He simply let the pressure wash over him. His Tyrant's Body, forged in the crucible of cultivation, didn't even tremble. The pressure, which should have shattered his bones and organs, simply bounced off him like a wave hitting a mountain. The black lotus in his dantian absorbed the energy, using it to strengthen him even further. The Imperial Cultivator's power, which had been meant to crush him, was now feeding him.

The Imperial Cultivator's eyes widened in utter disbelief. He had never seen such a thing. He wasn't just a powerful cultivator; he was a master of his art. His power should have been overwhelming. Yet the boy stood there, unharmed, a silent, mocking monument to his failure. The Cultivator’s mind reeled. His spiritual energy was a tool of a higher power, a force that bent the will of lesser men. But this boy was not a lesser man. He was a force of his own, and a terrifying one at that.

"Impossible," the Cultivator whispered, his voice cracking with a fear he hadn't felt in a lifetime.

Kael raised a hand. A jet-black blade materialized in his grasp, the Whisper of the Abyss. The blade hummed, a low, menacing song of pure, unadulterated power. Kael didn't attack. He simply pointed the tip of the blade at the Imperial Cultivator. The two Imperial Knights, seeing the malevolent aura of the blade, took a panicked step backward. This was not a weapon of the mortal world. This was the blade of a god. The very air around it felt heavy and corrupt, a chilling reminder of its origin.

The Imperial Cultivator, his composure shattered, dropped his facade. He was not here to investigate. He was here to deal with a threat. "You are a monster!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. "A threat to the empire!" He summoned a spiritual art, a devastating attack that could level mountains, and sent it roaring toward Kael. The attack was a magnificent display of power, a swirling vortex of energy that promised utter annihilation.

Kael smiled. This was the final test. He met the wave of spiritual energy with a single, brutal punch. His Tyrant's Body, infused with his cultivation energy, turned his fist into a weapon of mass destruction. He didn't deflect the attack; he punched through it, shattering the spiritual art with a single blow. The residual energy of the clash created a shockwave that blasted the Imperial Cultivator backward, sending him tumbling through the air and crashing into a stone wall. He was not dead, but he was broken. He was a defeated man.

Kael lowered his fist, his gaze falling upon the two trembling Imperial Knights. "Tell your Emperor," Kael said, his voice a chilling echo of his past life, "that I am not a threat to be tamed. I am not a beast. I am a destiny. And I am coming for his throne."

The knights, their swords falling from their hands, scrambled backward, their minds shattered by the sheer, unadulterated power they had just witnessed. They were terrified. They had seen a man single-handedly defeat a high-ranking Imperial Cultivator, not with a trick, but with raw, brutal force. They had witnessed a tyrant reborn. They were messengers of his return.

Ding! Mission Complete: The Emperor's Edict!

Rewards Claimed: The Tyrant's Second Martial Arts Manual, 1000 System Points, and a God-tier Tool.