“How could both my sons just fucking disappear?!” the Duke yelled at the trembling messenger, slamming his palm into the armrest of his mithril throne, bending its supports. He was an imposing, blond-haired man who appeared to be in his forties.

  The messenger knew how important the Duke’s sons were to him. The ruler had never produced an heir until the current Duchess—Caroline Brightheart—finally bore him two sons. It could only be described as a huge blessing, as it was very rare for late True Core cultivators to father children. Since their birth, the Duke’s sons had become the center of his life. Now the messenger felt as if he was knocking on death’s door by delivering such grave news.

  “Husband, let the poor man finish,” the Duchess sitting next to him whispered, maintaining a calm demeanor. She was an outstandingly beautiful woman in her late thirties, blue-eyed, with light brown hair and an alluring figure.

  The messenger stood on shaking knees in the center of Duke Corwin Brightheart’s audience chamber. It was a large hall built at the top level of the castle, with tall, long windows pieced together from stained glass presenting scenes from the Dukedom’s history. Thin stone columns connected by decorative arches supported the roof roughly fifty feet above. From here, the Duke ruled a vast area of land in the western part of the Empire with an iron fist.

  “Everyone, out!” Corwin yelled, and all the court nobles began promptly leaving through the towering double door leading out of the hall. The guards had likewise left, apparently knowing well how to behave in such situations. “Except you,” the Duke pointed at the messenger, who swallowed hard, repeating a childhood prayer in his mind as if it were some sort of a shield against Corwin’s fury. The ruler of the South-Western Dukedom was famous for his bad temper and frequent fits of rage.

  In a few short moments, the weary messenger found himself standing alone in the hall with just the Duke and the Duchess present.

  “Speak!” the Duke snarled.

  “Your Grace,” the messenger wiped his sweaty palms on the fabric of his trousers, bowing once again. “As per your instructions, we established a camp twenty miles outside the Sword Dao Mountain. However, as of five days ago, we haven’t received the scheduled message from Lord Roland. We immediately launched an investigation and managed to discover that both Young Lords were seen meeting Senior Darkheart outside the Sword Dao courtyard, then departed together to an unknown destination. All further messages were left without a response.”

  “This is it? This is all you have learned?!” Corwin trembled with fury.

  “Your Grace, I beg your mercy. It is possible that there were new developments, but once we confirmed they were indeed missing, I immediately departed to inform you of the situation,” the messenger pleaded, sweating profusely. His heart was beating like a drum. Duke Corwin had been known to kill messengers in the past, and with his recent breakthrough into the late True Core, there wasn’t anyone who could restrain him from acting on his impulses.

  Corwin stared at the trembling messenger, the muscles of his jaw pulsing from anger. Caroline was gently massaging his hand, trying to calm him down.

  “Hmph. Fine,” the Duke gritted out eventually. “Speak to my chamberlain; he’ll find you a place to stay for the next few days. Now leave,” he dismissed the weary man in front of him with a sharp gesture.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” the messenger bowed, breathing out in relief. He had never felt more alive than now. After retreating three steps, he turned around and promptly departed, now fully comprehending what it meant to escape from the jaws of death.

  “Darling, stay calm. There has to be a reasonable explanation,” the Duchess tried to placate her husband.

  “Woman, are you mad?!” Corwin exclaimed, glancing incredulously at his wife. “Do you understand what this means?”

  “You don’t think the Emperor…” Caroline started speaking, but wasn’t allowed to finish.

  “Silence!” the Duke roared, before taking out a small ball with two concentric rings. He injected a trickle of qi into the sphere, and one of the rings lit up with blue light, creating a large sphere that stopped all sound from reaching anyone outside.

  “Do you not understand?” Corwin hissed. “That decrepit fuck must have discovered we tried to take out his daughter and told Darkheart to…” The Duke’s face sank, and his eyes began to glisten. “My poor boys…” Before his devastated expression had the chance to settle, a grimace of rage twisted his features.

  “If Richard did anything to my sons, I’ll find a way to end him, even if it costs me my life!” he snarled. If someone were to sneak into the hall and observe, they’d only witness a soundless pantomime.

  “My love, but what if… what if this is related to that urgent message we received from Arthur?” the Duchess asked hesitantly. Her voice also trembled, and her eyes welled with tears. She could not accept that her sons might have been killed.

  “You mean the one about them discovering the identity of Griswold’s kidnapper? This Cade Ward fellow?” The Duke’s bloodshot eyes narrowed. “How could some early Skeletal Reinforcement brat have anything to do with the disappearance of our sons?”

  “What if there really was a powerful backer behind him? There have been rumors spreading around the court that it was a personal grudge, but I find it hard to believe. A boy arranges to kidnap an heir to the Empire, brutally murders an experienced Dao Protector, and escapes unharmed… It sounds ludicrous,” the Duchess reasoned calmly.

  “Hmm… I didn’t really pay much attention to this matter before,” the Duke pondered, pacing back and forth in front of the throne before raising his gaze. “It’s worth looking into. As much as I hate Richard’s guts, he is a clever old bastard. He’d probably find a less wasteful way of dealing with me than…” The words refused to leave the Duke’s throat.

  “Husband, I think it’s a lot more likely that our sons are fine. Even the Emperor wouldn’t lightly make a mortal enemy out of you. Besides, their soul tablets are still intact,” Caroline suggested, her face lighting up as the realization dawned on her. Years ago, Arthur and Roland had small pieces of their souls severed by a Long family Soul Avatar expert, which were then imbued into thin porcelain slips inscribed with qi-supporting formations. They were then placed on display on the wall in the Duke’s private chambers, surrounded by spirit crystals maintaining the formations’ function.

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  Corwin waved dismissively. “That doesn’t matter. The distance is too great. These things are effective only within a few thousand miles at the most.” The soul tablets were infused with a tiny bit of soul qi, but the connection with the main soul could not be maintained past a certain range. It was naturally possible to extend that distance by increasing the amount of soul qi in the tablet, but rarely did anyone ever do that as it would cause a serious soul wound. If someone with a soul tablet died within its range, their soul would forcefully pull on its missing piece, breaking the porcelain slip in the process.

  “Oh, you’re right,” Caroline’s expression fell. “I forgot about that.”

  “Regardless, you might be onto something,” Corwin nodded to himself. “This would have been one hell of a coincidence. Maybe… Maybe the Emperor doesn’t know anything after all,” his voice became livelier, and his royal demeanor returned. The Duke returned to his throne and sat down, resting his chin on his fist, brows tightly knit.

  “My love…”

  “Let me think,” Corwin barked, not offering his wife even a glance.

  “Sorry,” Caroline mumbled timidly.

  After a short while, the Duke straightened, his gaze now fully focused. “I’ll dispatch Gervais to investigate. Information gathering comes first,” he decided. “These useless fucks stationed outside Sword Dao wouldn’t be able to locate a dog turd unless they accidentally stepped on it,” he scoffed, his words dripping with contempt. “Gervais will establish what happened to Darkheart. If the manhunter has indeed disappeared without a trace, it’s more than likely Arthur and Roland were captured and should be still alive. I can’t think of a single benefit anyone could gain from killing them,” the Duke shook his head, convinced by his own logic.

  “That’s a great idea, darling,” Caroline perked up, uplifted by her husband's line of thought. When Corwin made a decision, it really didn’t matter whether it was good or bad, as long as the Duke was convinced it was right.

  Gervais Longhorn—better known as the Mirror Tyrant—didn’t hold any formal position in the dukedom. Informally, he was the Duke’s enforcer. The Duchess openly despised the man. Gervais was a True Core expert who had recently reached the peak of the early stage. Decades ago, he used to be Var Du Long’s personal disciple, before the Black Sun Sect Master nearly killed him after finding out Gervais forced himself on an outer disciple, a girl barely fifteen years old. Shunned and cast out, Gervais wandered the continent until he discovered an ancient cultivation art called the Mirror Phalanx, the source of his current title. To the outside world, he appeared jovial and good-natured. However, in reality, he was lecherous, ruthless, and dangerous. A despicable man, but too useful of a tool to throw away.

  “If I’m correct, then this Cade fellow is the key. Once Gervais confirms that Darkheart is indeed missing, he’ll need to find a way to question that brat. Until then, we can only wait.” Corwin once again rose from his throne, turning to his wife. ”Deal with the petitioners. I can’t be bothered to listen to their rubbish today,” he sent a trickle of qi into the silencing sphere, turning it off.

  “Yes, darling.” Caroline stood up, clasping her hands at her waist and bowing her head.

  “Mhm. And don’t worry. Whoever is responsible for abducting our sons will soon find out that living a life worse than death isn’t just an empty expression.”

  But the Duke was not the only one concerned by these events. In the very heart of the Empire, the same news was being delivered to a man whose power greatly dwarfed his own.

  “Are you trying to tell me that Darkheart was killed by an early-stage Skeletal Reinforcement youth?” Richard frowned, a sharp glint flickering briefly in his icy blue eyes. He turned away from the window, setting his gaze on the Chancellor, one of the four members of his council.

  Emperor Brightheart, known to every single person in the Empire as its sole ruler, was responsible for bringing peace and prosperity to the Empire, ushering it into its golden age. He was a tall, well-built man with a square jaw, long blond hair graying lightly at the temples, and a neatly trimmed beard. His face was touched by age, and no longer appeared as full of vitality as it used to. Not even a trickle of spiritual fluctuations left the Emperor’s body, a sign of his exceptional mastery over his early Soul Avatar cultivation.

  “Your Majesty, I’m only suggesting there is a possibility of a deeper connection. Darkheart could have spontaneously decided to leave your services, but I highly doubt it. After Duke Corwin’s sons discovered the potential perpetrator of Griswold’s kidnapping, I’ve dedicated every free resource into confirming this news and finding out the reason behind this Cade Ward lashing out at the Baron’s son. According to the census, there are a couple dozen Cade Wards registered in the Empire. My people are working day and night to find the boy. I will have the answers soon,” a slightly overweight, neatly dressed older man answered with his head bowed, eyes fixed on the floor.

  “Cade Ward… Chancellor, does that name sound familiar to you?” the Emperor mused.

  “It does, Sire, though vaguely. Ward may be a common surname, but the name does indeed strike a chord. I’ve ordered someone to comb through the court records to see if any Cade Wards have petitioned in the last five years,” the overweight man offered.

  “Good. My memory lapses are growing more frequent,” the head of the Empire remarked with a hint of weariness.

  The Chancellor’s expression sagged. The Emperor’s memory problems had started close to 50 years ago and had been progressing slowly but steadily ever since. The Chancellor, who had faithfully served the Emperor for more than 450 years, was the only person in the know.

  Richard Brightheart's reign would soon reach 3,000 years. Most early-stage Soul Avatar experts rarely lived past 3,500 years, and the Emperor was almost 3,700 years old, mostly thanks to a small mountain of expensive pills he took every day. Various factions were already building up in the shadows to grasp as much influence as possible at the moment of his death. While nobody knew about the Emperor’s decline, his age wasn’t a secret. Two years ago, he announced an order of succession, with Jade at the top, which only served to further the speculation.

  However, the Chancellor knew this was effectively a ruse, meant to bleed out the Emperor's enemies against each other in a meaningless battle for non-existent, future supremacy. Richard Brightheart wasn’t planning on abdicating anytime soon.

  “Your Majesty, it won’t be long now. The clone’s cultivation has been rising steadily, and so far we’ve had no problems managing pill toxicity. We should be ready in 15 to 18 months at the most. I will guarantee with my life nothing will go wrong this time!” the Chancellor’s voice was brimming with determination. He had failed once; he did not dare to fail again.

  “Mhm. Good. How’s security?”

  “I’m checking the formations twice a day, Sire. With the current precautions, it’s impossible for him to awaken, let alone escape,” the old man confidently stated.

  “Let’s hope so, Chancellor, for your sake. He’s already wasted far too much of my time. What about my daughter?”

  “Var Du Long impressed upon her that she can’t leave the Sword Dao grounds. Jade is very smart, and she knows how important she is to the Empire. I’m sure she’ll be fine until Crowe arrives.”

  The Emperor nodded. “Everything is in the hands of fate anyway. Return with the answers, Chancellor. Find out what happened to Darkheart, and don’t make any moves on Cade Ward until we know who’s backing him. This matter may not be simple,” he said quietly, turning back towards the window.

  “Of course, Sire. Um… Your Majesty, should we assist in the search for the Duke's sons?”

  The tall figure stood silently, a dark cutout against the backdrop of a cloudless sky. “The dao is infinite, but my patience with Corwin is not,” answered a voice forged from cold steel. “The road to the peak of cultivation is long and treacherous, and even the best seeds may fall under deep shade, destined to never reach for the sky. Corwin can only blame himself.”

  “Yes, Sire,” the Chancellor performed a deep bow and left the chamber.