Chapter 782: Seeds of Discord
Silence reigned over the imperial office following the princess’s outburst. The Emperor took a slow sip from his goblet, measuring the capricious fire burning in his daughter’s eyes.
"Enough, Seraphina," decreed the Emperor, setting the goblet down upon a jade table with a sharp clack. "You will not make rash decisions nor send your guards to commit foolish acts. The Imperial Tournament is a mere fifteen days away. If that boy is as extraordinary as he promises, the arena will take care of purging his enemies... or demonstrating the true limits of his potential."
Princess Seraphina clenched her fists, yet her father’s icy glare tolerated no rebuttal. With a disdainful gesture, she spun on her heel and exited the room, her high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor.
Vorian let out a sigh, adjusting his robe.
"That girl will end up causing a disaster, Your Majesty," murmured Vorian, looking toward the door through which the princess had vanished.
"Let her try whatever she wants," answered the Emperor with a smirk. "A true dragon only shows its claws when cornered by storms. Let us see just how sharp Ethan’s claws really are."
Meanwhile, inside the Soaring Dragon Kingdom delegation’s quarters, the morning sun filtered through the grand balcony window. Ethan sat cross-legged in the center of the room, surrounded by a faint spiral of spiritual energy flowing in rhythm with his breathing.
The door to his chamber opened gently, and Isabella stepped inside carrying a tray of hot tea. Her cheeks had regained their natural color, though a blush re-emerged as she recalled the wicked whisper from the previous night.
"I see you’re already training," said Isabella, placing the tray upon the round table with a sweet smile.
Ethan opened his eyes, dissipating the aura around him. He stood up with ease and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist before she could take a step back.
"I had to make sure I was in peak condition," replied Ethan, leaning in until his lips brushed hers in a tender kiss. "Especially to fulfill every single promise I made to you."
Isabella buried her face in his chest, letting out a soft giggle as she wrapped her arms around his back.
"King Alaric and Great General Vaelen are waiting for us for breakfast," she whispered against his robe. "They say there is news regarding the Imperial Tournament participants."
Ethan stroked her hair, gazing at the horizon through the window. The morning calm was comforting, but he could feel the capital’s undercurrents moving against him. Fifteen days would pass in the blink of an eye.
Upon crossing the archway of the private dining room, Ethan and Isabella found King Alaric and Great General Vaelen surrounded by ancient scrolls and maps unfurled across a broad mahogany table. Both leaders’ faces wore somber expressions, contrasting with the warmth of the steaming breakfast off to the side.
"Sit down," invited King Alaric, gesturing with his hand for tea to be poured for them. "The preliminary rosters for the Imperial Tournament were just leaked by the palace guard."
Great General Vaelen slid a scroll sealed with golden wax toward the center of the table, pointing at three names written in crimson ink.
"This is no ordinary martial arts tournament," warned Great General Vaelen, his voice grave. "The Emperor has decreed that the first phase will take place inside the Fallen Dragon Secret Realm, a pocket dimension teeming with king-tier beasts and ancient ruins. Free slaughter among participants will be permitted for the first three days."
Isabella squeezed Ethan’s hand beneath the table, a faint chill running down her spine as she heard the conditions.
"And who are the primary threats?" asked Ethan, taking the scroll with absolute serenity.
"The first is Kaelen," answered King Alaric, pointing at the top name. "He is the Silver Dragon Kingdom’s most dangerous shadow. An assassin who cultivates the Dao of Corrosion and possesses the bloodline of a mystic reptile. His sole objective in this tournament will be to rip off your head to avenge last night’s humiliation."
[That low-rate reptile is nothing, Master], Crul chimed in within his mind, his tone mocking. [A couple of strikes from our Dao Heart and he’ll be turned into snake soup.]
"But Kaelen isn’t your worst problem," continued Great General Vaelen, pressing his finger against the second name. "Princess Seraphina has registered her personal guard, led by Darian—a monster of the sword domain who hasn’t lost a duel in five years. And lastly, there are the heirs of the capital’s three supreme sects. They all view your sudden rise as an insult."
Ethan examined the names on the scroll, feeling the artifact within his sea of consciousness vibrate at the mention of the empire’s geniuses. Far from feeling fear, a spark of icy excitement gleamed in his eyes.
"I see," remarked Ethan, letting the scroll drop onto the table. "So they all want to test the sharp edge of my blade."
"You sound ridiculously confident, kid," commented Great General Vaelen, narrowing his eyes yet unable to conceal a subtle smirk of respect at the youth’s composure. "Half the continent is looking for a way to tear you apart in that secret realm."
Ethan leaned back in his chair with a calm smile, intertwining his fingers with Isabella’s across the table.
"I have a beautiful fiancée waiting for our wedding," replied Ethan, looking directly at Isabella with genuine tenderness. "So I haven’t the slightest intention of dying in that place."
Isabella felt a sudden wave of heat rush up her neck, painting her cheeks red. She cast her eyes down toward the table, squeezing Ethan’s hand as she tried to hide an embarrassed smile.
"For the gods’ sake, get a room!" shouted Great General Vaelen, slapping a hand over his face while King Alaric let out a boisterous laugh that echoed through the room.
Hearty laughter filled the private dining hall, instantly clearing the heavy fog of tension that had lingered since the previous night. However, Alaric slowly wiped the grin from his face and stood up, adopting a solemn demeanor.
"I didn’t call you here just to deliver news about your enemies, Ethan," said King Alaric, gesturing with his hand. "Here, kid."
From beneath his royal sleeves, the monarch produced a scabbard of black leather woven with platinum threads and set it carefully upon the mahogany table. Sheathed within was a sword featuring a golden hilt, sculpted with intricate ruby inlays that gleamed like a living blaze. The weapon’s mere presence caused the room’s temperature to rise slightly, radiating a cutting intent.
Ethan locked his eyes onto the blade, feeling his Dao Sword Heart within his sea of consciousness react immediately to the divine metal’s aura.
"It is the royal sword of our Soaring Kingdom," explained King Alaric, gazing at the weapon with a touch of nostalgia. "I used to wield it in my youth, before ascending to the throne. It is no longer of use to me in battles at my current realm, but in your hands and for this tournament, I assure you there won’t be a blade in the entire imperial capital that can match it."