2025-07-18 19:56:43Though proud of his own strength as a peak-stage Rank 7 Grandmaster, Benedric knew he couldn’t compare to a true Rank 8 Gold Master.
That was an entirely different realm.
The elder didn’t answer immediately.
His cold, contemptuous gaze swept over Benedric and the Sables as if they were mere insects in the mud.
“You dare lay a hand on the heir of House Crowne,” he sneered. “Do you even understand the weight of your actions, worm?”
Benedric froze.
It finally sank in.
Ronan hadn't come alone.
He had brought a protector, one with power far beyond anyone in this room.
Ronan’s voice was calm, almost amused.
“Uncle Magnus, no need to waste words. He hasn’t even broken through to Rank 8. What would he understand?”
The elder beside Ronan was none other than Magnus Crowne, Ronan’s great-uncle and assigned protector.
As the Crowne heir, Ronan never moved without elite guardianship.
Magnus nodded. “You’re right. The Sables are frogs in a well. Their arrogance has made them forget their place.”
He then stepped forward, gaze sharp as a blade.
“You think you can keep the betrothal assets and spit on our name? A house without a single Rank 8 dares defy the line of Elder Archmaster Lucas Crowne?”
He shook his head in disgust. “You’re not even worth being enemies.”
Turning to Ronan, Magnus added, “Ending the engagement was the right choice. These fools aren’t worthy of House Crowne. Let them drown in their own stupidity.”
Ronan nodded. “I only came here to close the door properly.”
The words hung in the air like chains.
No Sable dared speak.
Who would?
They faced a true Rank 8 Gold Master, a realm most had only heard of in rumors.
Benedric clenched his fists, his face pale.
He had never expected Ronan to have a Rank 8 protector.
In a strained voice, he growled, “Does House Crowne intend to break Thandor’s laws? Kill a man below your rank? The Martial Code forbids it!”
Magnus chuckled darkly. “Kill you? Oh please. That would be too generous.”
Ronan’s eyes gleamed coldly. “Making you kneel? That’s enough.”
The words struck Benedric like thunder.
Kneel? In front of his entire bloodline?
“You basta—!”
But before he could react, a wave of Rank 8 pressure slammed into him.
Bones creaked.
His knees buckled without resistance.
He collapsed, face-down on the floor, unable to lift his head.
The hall fell deathly silent.
“No!!” Calista’s voice shrieked through the stillness as she ran to her father’s side.
“Stop it, Ronan! Or I’ll never forgive you for this!”
Her voice cracked, her eyes red with fury. “You coward! You bully! Using your family to humiliate mine. Have you no shame?”
Ronan didn’t even blink.
He looked down at her, unimpressed.
She and the Sables still didn’t get it.
They still thought House Crowne was something they could provoke at will.
They hadn’t realized they were facing a mountain hidden behind the clouds.
To the world, House Crowne was merely backed by Rank 9 Elder Archmaster Lucas Crowne and a prestigious bloodline.
But the truth was far more terrifying.
Behind the scenes, House Crowne housed multiple Rank 9 Elder Archmasters, over a dozen Rank 8 Gold Masters, and countless elites.
They weren’t just a noble house.
They stood above the United Kingdom of Thandor itself.
And yet this petty, greedy, arrogant family, with its strongest still stuck at Rank 7, dared to insult them and covet Crowne resources, just because Ronan had once been blind with love?
Ronan eyes darkened.
In his previous life, House Sable had clung to House Crowne like a swarm of leeches, draining them dry, bleeding them of every precious resource and ounce of prestige.
And he, blind with love, had let them.
No, worse! He had offered it all willingly.
His time, his reputation, his clan’s treasures... all wasted on a woman who had only ever viewed him as a tool.
For years, Calista had played the doting fiancée in public, while behind closed doors she plotted with Lucien Cross.
Together, they seized everything Ronan had gifted her, and used it to lift House Sable to new heights, right as House Crowne crumbled.
Ronan had watched it all collapse.
He had watched the flames devour his clan’s grounds.
He had seen the banners of House Sable fly high above the ashes of his lineage, like vultures parading over corpses.
Lucien, smug and celebrated.
Calista, smiling at his downfall.
That image... would haunt him for eternity.
But not this time.
Never again.
This time, he would not play the fool.
He would not be the one kneeling.
His blood would not feed their greedy and ambition.
He had been given a second chance, and he would burn every illusion, every false bond, until House Sable and Lucien Cross were stripped of everything they had stolen.
Calista shouted again, her voice cutting through his thoughts, furious, “You bastard, Ronan! You think hurting people makes you strong?”
Lucien’s eyes burned with righteous anger.
“You humiliate the Sables, threaten a Grandmaster, and call yourself a man? If you’re so tough, duel me. Just the two of us. Let’s see if you can fight without hiding behind your elders!”
With a Rank 8 Gold Master watching, he knew he couldn’t kill Ronan.
But injuring him?
That was still fair game!
Lucien was counting on the Martial Code, Rank 8s were strictly forbidden from interfering in fights between lower-ranked cultivators.
As long as he didn’t go for the kill, that Rank 8 Gold Master couldn’t interfere.
And he was confident he could easily crush Ronan.
He was a mid-stage Rank 4Limit Breaker, powered up with refined Rank 5 spiritual energy, a level he believed let him leap over his rank entirely.
In Lucien’s mind, it was simple: Ronan might be early-stage Rank 5 at best, but his raw energy was far stronger.
Every swing, every strike would land with force Ronan couldn’t hope to withstand.
The thought made Lucien all the more self-assured.
Ronan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“A duel?” he repeated lazily, as if Lucien had asked for a dance. “Sure, why not?”
“Ronan, kneel and beg forgiveness!” Lucien spat, his expression twisted with smug confidence.
He surged forward, his fist glowing with refined Rank 5 spiritual energy.
The floor cracked beneath his feet as he launched himself toward Ronan like a missile.
“End it, Lucien!” Calista cried out from behind him.
Seeing Lucien stand up for her made her pulse race. “Teach him a lesson!”
In her eyes, Lucien, who lived and breathed combat, would surely leave Ronan, this pampered heir, crawling on the floor.
And in that moment, a flicker of sweetness stirred in her heart.
What woman wouldn’t be moved by a man who stepped up to defend her when she and her family were under attack?
Meanwhile, fueled by Calista’s cheers, Lucien unconsciously ramped up the force behind his stike.
“GO TO HELL, RONAN!” he roared, blood rushing to his head.
Everyone leaned forward, ready for a fierce clash.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
A Place Reclaimed
The advance continued without interruption. Arken fleets moved deeper beyond Astra Divide Relay, tightening their formations as they entered Velmora-controlled space. Strategic points fell in sequence, not through overwhelming force, but through precision that felt increasingly unnatural.On the command deck, projections updated continuously.“Forward node secured.”“Enemy resistance minimal.”“Intercept successful. No losses.”The pattern repeated too cleanly.Tristan watched the display, his expression sharpening with confidence. “We’re ahead of them. Every move.”Selene did not answer. Her gaze remained fixed on the shifting routes, tracing the paths Arken had taken.Ronan stood slightly apart, silent.Because the pattern was not reactive.It was guided.A new signal cut through the flow.“Emergency alert from Sector Twelve.”The tone shifted instantly.“They’re surrounded. Multiple Velmora signatures converging.”The projection isolated the sector. A small Arken fleet appeared at
Shift in Fate
The expansion began without hesitation.Across multiple sectors beyond Astra Divide Relay, Arken fleets advanced in coordinated formation. Strike units moved along newly identified corridors, exploiting gaps that had not existed before. Supply routes extended forward, stabilizing positions deeper inside Velmora territory.On every projection, the pattern looked the same.Progress.“Forward sectors secured.”“Resistance minimal.”“Velmora forces are pulling back.”Reports layered across the command deck, each one reinforcing the same conclusion. The momentum had shifted, and Arken was pressing it without delay.Tristan watched the projections, his expression sharpening with satisfaction. “They’re collapsing,” he said. “We’re pushing them faster than expected.”Selene did not respond immediately.Ronan stood a short distance away, his gaze fixed on the same data. The movement patterns were clean. Too clean. Velmora’s presence was not gone. It had simply thinned in the exact places Arken
Beyond the War
The command chamber was already filled before the projection activated. This was not a room meant for ordinary briefings. The scale, the positioning, and the presence of those inside made that clear. Generals stood across the chamber in composed silence, each representing a different sector of Arken’s military command. No one spoke. No one moved unnecessarily.They were waiting.Lucas Crowne stood among them, his posture steady, his gaze fixed on the central projection space. His expression remained unreadable, but his attention was absolute. A direct summons from the throne was not something that came lightly.The projection activated. Light gathered at the center of the chamber and formed into a clear figure.King Aurex.The moment he appeared, the room settled into a deeper stillness. Every general straightened slightly. When he spoke, his voice was calm and controlled.“Report the current state.”One of the senior generals stepped forward. “Velmora’s primary core ship within Astra
Controlled Access
The room remained silent after Lucien’s last words.No one spoke immediately. The weight of what he had implied still lingered, unresolved, pressing against the edges of the conversation.Lucien did not rush to fill it.He watched them instead.Measured. Patient.Then, as if deciding the timing himself, he spoke again.“You want something you can verify,” he said calmly. “Fine.”The officers exchanged brief glances.Lucien continued without waiting.“Sector nine. Outer relay chain. There’s a supply corridor Velmora still relies on. It’s not protected the way you think it is.”One of the officers immediately began inputting the coordinates.Lucien’s gaze did not shift.“There’s a delay in their rotation cycle,” he added. “Twelve-minute gap. That’s your window.”Silence tightened slightly.The general did not interrupt.Lucien went on.“Secondary node in that sector is already unstable. If you apply pressure there, it won’t hold.”The officer looked up from the console. “We’re verifying
A Different Truth
The silence in the room lingered.Lucien’s last words still hung in the air, calm and certain, as if they had already settled into place long before anyone else could react.Ronan stood where he was, his gaze fixed on Lucien.He did not respond immediately.Then he spoke.“I don’t believe you.”The words were flat. Direct. Without hesitation.Lucien didn’t react.Ronan took one step closer, just enough to make the distance between them feel intentional.“You didn’t come here to surrender,” he continued. “And you didn’t come here to help us.”Lucien’s eyes remained steady.Ronan’s voice did not change.“But that doesn’t matter.”A brief pause.“Because if you’re going to lie,” he said, “you should at least make it useful.”That was the shift.Not acceptance.Not rejection.A direction.Lucien’s gaze sharpened slightly, the faintest sign of interest appearing.Ronan held his gaze.“You want to be treated as one of us,” he said. “Then start talking like one.”Another pause.“Give us some
Inside the Cage
The corridor leading to the containment sector was silent, but not empty. Armed personnel stood along both sides, their posture rigid, their attention fixed on the reinforced door at the end.Lucien was inside.Ronan stopped a few steps before the entrance. Selene stood to his right, Tristan to his left. A senior officer remained slightly behind them, reviewing data from a handheld interface.“He’s stable,” the officer said. “No resistance.”Tristan let out a quiet breath. “Of course he’s not resisting. This is exactly what he wants.”Selene didn’t look away from the door. “That’s what makes it dangerous.”A brief pause followed before the general’s voice came through the comm, clear and controlled.“This is not a standard interrogation.”All of them straightened slightly.“He is not an external prisoner. He is trained in Thalara. He knows our structures, our methods.”The implication was immediate. Any standard approach would fail.“If we send an interrogator, he will control the con
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