Chapter 68: The Yandere’s Wrath
In the East Core Section of Draktharion City, where only the most powerful families resided, stood the Voss Clan’s mansion. It was a sprawling estate of obsidian and gold, its walls carved with dragons coiled in eternal storms. Lightning-shaped runes lined the rooftops, crackling faintly, while wind chimes of dragon bone sang softly in the breeze.
The air carried the scent of ozone and rain, a constant reminder of the clan’s mastery over lightning and wind. Servants moved silently through the halls, and at the heart of the estate, a grand hall stretched wide, its pillars carved like twisting tempests. Above the throne of black stone hung a massive emblem, a golden dragon coiled around a lightning bolt, surrounded by swirling winds.
Kaelen’s figure appeared in front of the gates, startling the guards dressed in golden dragon armor. They immediately unleashed their armaments, pointing them toward him, mistaking him for an intruder.
"Who are you? What trouble are you looking for in the Voss Mansion?" one of the guards barked.
Kaelen, who had been holding in his anger from the humiliation, roared out, "Idiotic guards, it’s me!"
Hearing this familiar voice, they were shocked and paused. "Is that you, Young Master?"
"It’s me!" he roared in reply.
The guards were stunned. This appearance was nothing like their young master. He was giving off a burnt smell, his hair was spiked, his skin looked charred black, and sand was all over his body.
"What are you waiting for, standing like that? Get me in!" Kaelen roared when he saw the guards looking at him like a fool.
Hearing the shout of their young master, they immediately helped him inside.
The teleportation talisman was a rare one that his father had helped him acquire at a high price, a fixed-point talisman. If he was within a thousand-mile radius of Draktharion City, it would instantly return him to the mansion.
The guards helped him through the grand halls, their steps hurried as they called for the clan head. When Kaelen’s father arrived, his expression shifted from calm to shock at the sight of his son.
"What happened?" his father asked, his voice measured but his eyes sharp as they scanned Kaelen’s charred and battered form.
His father’s question made Kaelen burst into tears. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his father’s legs. "Dad, you have to avenge me! Someone bullied your son, he insulted our clan, belittled our name, humiliated me before a crowd!"
"Like I asked," his father said, his voice dropping to a cold, dangerous tone. "What happened?"
He was a middle-aged man with white hair and piercing crimson eyes, one could see that Kaelen had taken after him in appearance. His presence was commanding, his aura heavy, the weight of his cultivation pressing down on the room like a storm waiting to break.
Sensing his father’s cold gaze, Kaelen knew he had no choice but to speak the truth. But as he opened his mouth, thinking of what Lucien had put him through, the humiliation, the stolen armament, the forced kneeling, his heart burned with hatred. The urge to kill Lucien consumed him like wildfire.
Before he could utter a single word, he coughed violently, spouting a mouthful of blood across the marble floor. Both he and his father froze in shock.
His aura withered like an old tree in autumn, its leaves falling, its life draining away. His eyes widened in horror as his body began to shake uncontrollably.
"My cultivation..." Kaelen let out a ferocious, anguished cry as the realization crashed over him. He had lost his cultivation, and worse, he couldn’t even cultivate again.
It felt as if the sky had shattered before him. For someone like him, this was worse than death. His hatred for Lucien burned brighter than ever, even though he didn’t understand how it had been done.
"Dad, you have to avenge me," Kaelen begged, his voice broken and desperate.
His father’s expression burned with barely contained rage. His son was the hope of the clan, born with the Tempest Dragon Physique, destined for greatness. And now, his cultivation had been wasted, reduced to nothing.
"Tell me who did this," his father said, his voice cold and measured, barely holding in his fury. "I will personally ensure they regret ever crossing the Voss Clan."
Before Kaelen could respond, a voice cut through the air, cold, amused, and utterly dismissive.
"You don’t need to know. As for why... this day, next year, will be a day to remember your soul in hell."
It wasn’t Kaelen who had spoken.
The voice shook both of them to their core. Kaelen’s father immediately raised his guard, his aura flaring as his hand shot toward his weapon.
"Who is that?" he demanded, his voice sharp as a blade.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, none other than Seraphina. Her expression was calm, almost bored, as if she had simply been waiting for the right moment to reveal herself.
Why would she let someone who could bring danger to her darling survive?
When Kaelen saw her, his eyes burned with hatred. He quickly pointed a trembling finger at her. "Dad, she was with the young man! She’s his accomplice!"
His father focused his attention on Seraphina. His eyes narrowed as he realized something chilling, he hadn’t even noticed she was there. She had entered the Voss Mansion easily, without triggering a single formation rune or alerting any of the guards.
He glanced at his son, his mind racing. Who had Kaelen clashed with? It seemed the person’s background was far from ordinary.
"Kaelen," his father said slowly, his voice dangerously calm. "Who did you clash with?"
Kaelen was stunned. Why wasn’t his father attacking? Why was he still asking questions? He wanted to remind his father that the enemy was right there, that they should take revenge immediately.
But a single glance from his father silenced him. Reluctantly, Kaelen began to explain everything, the bump, the challenge, the battle, the humiliation, the stolen armament.
As his father listened, his expression grew darker. He understood the gist of the story, and his face twisted with anger, not at Seraphina, but at his own son. Kaelen had brought a disaster upon them.
"Sorry, ma’am," his father said, his tone shifting to something more diplomatic. "We are at fault here. What can we do for you to forgive my son?"
Kaelen was stumped. The fight hadn’t even begun, and his father was already stepping back. What he didn’t know was that his father had probed Seraphina’s aura and felt nothing, absolutely nothing. That emptiness was more terrifying than any display of power.
It was best to take a step back now and plan revenge later.
"Your clan’s destruction," Seraphina said without blinking an eye, her voice as calm as if she were discussing the weather.
Her reply shook both father and son to their core. Their expressions turned cold, their earlier diplomacy replaced by a defensive wariness.
"Okay, okay," Seraphina continued, her smile fading into something cold and predatory.
She glanced around, "Let’s put away the pretense. Since everyone is here, this is good. It will save me some time from eliminating you all."
A/N: Continue to support this author with golden tickets, power stones, and gifts. Your support is my greatest motivation.