Vengeance of The Reborn Heir

Morning Storm at House Sable

The next morning, at exactly 9 a.m., the main hall of House Sable’s estate was filled with direct descendants of the clan.

At the center, seated on a lavish throne, was Benedric Sable—the current patriarch and Calista’s father.

Dressed in embroidered black robes, the tall, broad-shouldered man exuded an oppressive aura.

Everyone present instinctively lowered their heads in deference.

Calista stood beside him, red-eyed and pale. Lucien Cross stood next to her, tall and composed. But tension clung to them like a fog.

Last night, Calista had returned home radiant, proudly announcing that the engagement with Ronan Crowne was officially over.

She’d expected praise, but instead, Benedric’s face turned black.

Without a word, he struck his daughter across the face.

That slap had echoed through the halls—and through Calista’s pride.

Now, as he glanced at her tear-streaked face and then at Lucien, Benedric’s scowl deepened.

“Who told you to act on your own?” he growled.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Benedric’s head throbbed.

No one understood better than he did just how fragile House Sable’s current situation was.

Yet now, his daughter had forced Ronan Crowne to end the engagement.

She had practically made an enemy of House Crowne—at the worst possible time!

Seeing how furious her father was, Calista, still holding her cheek, bit back her tears.

“Why are you so afraid of him?” she snapped quietly, her voice laced with frustration.

“He’s just a spoiled second-generation heir, living off his family name. I’ve never liked him. I never wanted to marry him in the first place.”

In Calista’s mind, Ronan was no match for Lucien…

Lucien may have come from an ordinary family, but he had worked hard to earn his place at the Martial Academy.

His cultivation was solid.

And more importantly, Lucien treated her with respect and consideration.

She felt safe with him—not disgusted like she did with Ronan.

Calista stepped closer to her father and clutched his sleeve, her eyes pleading.

“Father, aren’t you a peak-stage Rank 7 Grandmaster? You’re already on the verge of breaking through to Gold Master, so why should we grovel before the Crownes?”

“When Grandfather was alive, House Sable was already one of the top names in Thalara. But now? Everyone whispers that we only have status because of the Crownes. How unfair!”

“I know you can bring our family back to glory—without relying on them. Right?”

Calsita looked up at her father, eyes filled with hopeful anticipation.

In Calista Sable’s mind, House Crowne was just another so-called “first-class” family—nothing more than a noble house with an Elder Archmaster at Rank 9. They weren’t much stronger than the Sables.

What she didn’t know—and what no one in her family was aware of—was that House Crowne was far more powerful than it appeared. Behind them stood Martial Saints.

And for the Sables, whose strongest member was only a peak-stage Grandmaster Rank 7, there was simply no access to that level of information.

As far as they believed, once Benedric broke through to Rank 8, even Rank 9 cultivators would have to respect him. They truly thought they could cut ties with House Crowne and stand tall on their own.

For a moment, Benedric’s expression softened.

She’s right, he thought.

He leaned back and nodded. “Fine. You’ve made some good points, Calista.”

“When Ronan arrives to dissolve the engagement, I’ll teach him a lesson,” Benedric said with a sneer. “He thinks he’s doing us a favor by walking away? He’ll learn today who’s really superior.”

As he spoke, a trace of pride flickered in his eyes.

Lately, he had begun to sense the faint signs of breakthrough—he was nearing Rank 8 Gold Master.

Just a bit more time, and he would cross that threshold.

And when that happened, House Sable would be a real first tier—a lion in its own right.

They would stand shoulder to shoulder with the Crownes, as equals—not a lamb probbed up by the latter!

Calista’s eyes sparkled with joy and admiration.

She wrapped her arms around her father’s and said playfully, “Father, you’re the best.”

Lucien Cross, standing beside her, smiled faintly.

A rising House Sable meant better prospects for him too.

His relationship with them had grown close, and Benedric treated him well.

Benedric stroked Calista’s hair and promised, “So be it. Let the engagement end—it’s Ronan’s loss. Since he didn’t know how to cherish you and dared to humiliate you, I’ll make him apologize.”

As father and daughter spoke, a voice rang out from just outside the hall—light, mocking, and laced with amusement.

“Oh? And how exactly do you plan to make me apologize?”

Calista and Lucien’s cheerful expressions disappeared at once.

All eyes turned to the entrance of the hall.

Ronan Crowne stepped inside.

He wore a simple outfit, relaxed in style, yet he carried himself with total confidence.

Surrounded by the core members of the Sable family, he remained calm and unmoved.

His sharp gaze fixed directly on Benedric.

With a faint smile, Ronan asked, “Have you prepared everything that needs to be returned to House Crowne?”

Benedric Sable’s face darkened.

His voice turned cold and clipped as he spoke from the main seat of the Sable clan’s grand hall.

“I’ll allow the annulment,” he said.

“But before we proceed, you owe my daughter an apology for the public humiliation you caused her yesterday. If you refuse, I’ll personally visit House Crowne and ask how they’ve raised such a disrespectful heir.”

The entire hall fell silent. Eyes darted between Ronan and Benedric.

For a moment, Ronan said nothing.

His expression didn’t change—he simply stared at the man seated high above him.

Then, slowly, a smirk curled on his lips.

A short laugh escaped him—dry and disdainful.

“An apology?” Ronan repeated, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “From you, Benedric Sable?”

Everyone in the room gasped. No one expected that Ronan would be this bold toward a Grandmaster like Benedric Sable.