Rise of The Virel Absolute Revenge Cultivation

Absolute System Integration

The main gate of the capital, Oakhaven, stood tall like a stone giant ready to swallow anyone. At its peak, red banners with the black wolf emblem of the Volkov Family fluttered haughtily, replacing the silver-blue flags of the Virel Family, which were now nothing more than dark history.

Arka took a deep breath, letting the smell of burning smoke and the aroma of the crowded market fill his lungs. He wore a dull leather cloak that smelled of sweat, his face intentionally obscured by an unkempt thin beard and a fake scar along his cheekbone. On his back, a large, blunt sword served as the perfect camouflage for a low-class mercenary.

"Name?" barked a gatekeeper, his eyes constantly scanning the line of refugees and merchants.

"Vane," Arka replied, his voice rasped by a throat control technique taught by the system.

"Origin?"

"Northern Outskirts. There's nothing left there since the bandits raided our village."

The guard snorted, his eyes narrowing as he looked Arka up and down. "You’ve got decent muscle for a refugee. Can you actually use that sword, or is it just for show?"

"I’ve killed more men than you have teeth, old man," Arka countered with a perfectly cold tone—a small provocation to build his reputation as a rough mercenary.

The guard let out a raspy laugh and shoved a dull bronze token toward him. "Get in. Head to the West District and look for the 'Thirsty Wolf' tavern. They’re looking for new dogs to guard the Volkov palace’s outer walls. The money’s decent, if you don't mind dying young."

"I don't plan on dying today," Arka muttered, snatching the token and stepping into the city.

Two weeks passed in a flash. Arka moved like a shadow through the crowds. He successfully infiltrated the Volkov Family’s outer guard unit, a position that gave him access to monitor the palace’s logistics without drawing too much attention from the high-level elder cultivators.

That night, in the stuffy guard barracks, a stout man named Kovak slammed his beer mug down hard on the wooden table.

"Vane! You’ve only been here two weeks, but you’ve already landed a patrol shift in the inner garden tomorrow. How’d you pull that off, eh?" Kovak asked with a tone of undisguised envy.

Arka simply wiped his blade with a coarse cloth. "I gave half my rations to the Sergeant. That man is always hungry."

"Cunning bastard," Kovak roared with laughter. "But be careful in there. The inner garden is where the Volkov elites relax. One wrong step and your head will end up on the tip of a spear before you can even apologize."

I won't be apologizing, Arka thought. I’m there to make sure I know exactly whose heads need to roll.

"Have you ever seen Lord Kael?" Arka asked, feigning casual interest. "I heard he’s now the right hand of the Volkov patriarch."

Kovak spat on the floor. "That golden boy? Of course. He’s always strutting around like a peacock proud of its feathers. But don't ever look him in the eye if you don't want a public flogging. He’s more sensitive than a virgin."

"Is that so? Thanks for the tip, Kovak."

The next day, Arka stood rigid behind a cold marble pillar in a corner of the palace garden. His guard uniform felt itchy against his skin, but he had to endure it. His sharp eyes scanned every corner, while the system inside his head provided subtle warnings about the presence of expert cultivators in the vicinity.

Warning: Earth-level cultivation energy detected within a fifty-meter radius. Suppress your aura completely.

Arka closed his eyes for a moment, imagining his rage as a fire he locked inside an iron chest deep within his soul. He had to become stone. He had to become dust.

Light footsteps and a laugh he recognized all too well broke the afternoon silence. Arka held his breath, pressing his body deeper into the pillar's shadow.

Two figures emerged from the direction of the main pavilion. The first was a beautiful woman in a flowing purple silk gown Lady Irina Volkov, the only daughter of his arch-enemy’s patriarch. And beside her, walking with an arrogant, confident stride, was Kael.

Kael wore a noble’s robe embroidered with gold; his face looked fresher and more authoritative than the last time Arka had seen him at the edge of the abyss. Not a single shred of guilt radiated from the traitor’s face.

"You worry too much, Irina," Kael’s voice sounded incredibly soft, as if he were the kindest man in the world. "All the ritual preparations are going smoothly. Nothing will be able to stop the awakening."

Irina smiled, leaning her head on Kael’s shoulder. "My father relies on you heavily, Kael. He said that without your help in getting rid of that Virel 'pest,' this plan would never have started."

Kael chuckled, his hand affectionately stroking Irina’s hair. "Arka Virel is a miserable past. He was just a stumbling block I crushed myself. Now, the future belongs to us."

Arka felt his blood boil. His fingernails dug into his palms until they bled, trying to restrain the wild urge to leap out and tear Kael’s throat out right then and there. However, he saw something even more painful. On Kael’s ring finger sat a silver ring with a blue sapphire the Virel Family heirloom that should have belonged to Elara.

"Oh, look at that," Irina pointed toward the fish pond. "The flowers have bloomed. Just as you promised."

Kael kissed the woman’s forehead. "Everything you desire will bloom under my reign, darling."

They continued walking, passing the pillar where Arka was hiding. They were only three meters away. Arka could smell the expensive perfume on Kael’s body the same scent he had smelled on that bloody wedding night.

Once they were at a distance, Arka stepped out from the shadows. His eyes flashed red, a faint glow visible only to a system user. He stared at Kael’s back with a hatred so pure that the air around him seemed to freeze.

The future belongs to you? Arka thought, his internal voice sounding like a demonic growl. I will make sure your future ends in the same grave you dug for me, Kael.

Suddenly, Kael stopped walking. He turned around, his eyes sweeping across the line of guards standing stiffly along the garden wall.

"What is it, Kael?" Irina asked, puzzled.

Kael narrowed his eyes, his gaze brushing past the pillar where Arka stood. "Just a feeling... as if a rat is watching us."

Arka’s heart hammered against his ribs; his hand secretly moved toward the hidden dagger at his waist. If Kael recognized him now, the entire plan would be ruined but he wouldn't let that traitor live to see tomorrow's sunset.