---
The return to the mansion was swift and tense. The captured Spiritual Elder groaned on Lei Qingshan's shoulders, barely conscious. Lei Wuchen, walking beside his father, bore no serious injuries, but his gaze was sharper, his presence more solid. The battle had marked him not only in body, but in spirit.
When they arrived at the estate gates, the guards recognized the urgency in Qingshan's expression and opened them without question. Moments later, both father and son were summoned to the Duke's great hall.
The place was dimly lit. Heavy incense burned in bronze pots, and the golden dragon sigil of the Lei clan was etched into the floor beneath a thick crimson carpet. At the top of the stairs, seated on his throne of black wood and silver, was Duke Lei Zhenlong — the Iron Roar of the North.
His eyes glowed with intensity as he saw the state of his personal guard and his grandson.
"What happened?" he asked without preamble.
Qingshan dropped the unconscious man at the center of the hall.
"Ambush. Six enemies. Two Spirit Emperors, two Spirit Kings, and two Spirit Elders. We killed three. One fled. One unconscious. This one we brought."
A low murmur ran among the gathered noble guards. The spiritual pressure that still clung to the captives' body was unmistakable.
Wuchen took a step forward.
"They tried to kill us during the return from my second spirit ring hunt. They mentioned they had been hired. No names."
The duke raised a hand. "You did well to survive. Both of you."
Then his voice dropped, firm and commanding:
"Seal this man's cultivation. Get Elder Han and Master Duan to extract his memories. I want to know who paid."
Two senior officials left immediately.
The duke rose from the throne, descended the stairs slowly and stopped in front of Wuchen. He rested a firm hand on the boy's shoulder.
"You didn't just survive. You fought and won. And you brought back a piece that will help us play this game the right way."
Wuchen met his grandfather's eyes and nodded. "But who could order something like this inside our domain?"
Lei Tianlong's gaze grew darker.
"That's what we're going to find out. And no one is beyond suspicion. Not even the nobles who dine under this very roof."
---
Three days passed.
The Spiritual Elder they had captured did not last long under the pressure of interrogation. With his meridians sealed and his mind bombarded with mental techniques, he confessed quickly:
> "We were hired through a middleman. A noble from your own mansion. Fang Lu."
Fang Lu was not among the highest-ranking nobles, but he held a key administrative role: overseeing external trade routes and logistics in the northern borderlands. Enough influence and enough access to move mercenaries without drawing attention.
Lei Tianlong convened a council immediately.
The hall filled with twenty-two nobles of the Lei clan's mansion. Some wore warrior attire, others the robes of political advisors. But none showed any signs of comfort.
"Fang Lu was involved in the attempted assassination of my grandson and my personal guard." Tianlong's voice carried through the hall like a hammer blow. "The evidence is overwhelming. His signature authorized payments. His seal was found in intercepted letters. And this man" — he pointed to the captured mercenary — "recognized him in person."
A buzz of shocked voices erupted.
Before anyone could respond, heavy doors opened, and guards entered dragging Fang Lu, already in chains.
He didn't struggle. He knew it was over.
"I followed orders... I was just the intermediary!" he screamed. "It wasn't my plan! I was told to... to hire them... through a coded contract. I didn't know—"
"Enough!" roared the duke. "You may not have known the full extent. But you acted. You signed. You moved gold."
He turned to the room.
"And that is treason against blood!"
There was no mercy. Fang Lu was stripped of all titles and lands. His family was exiled. His cultivation sealed and suppressed permanently.
---
But Lei Tianlong's fury didn't end there.
He had investigators dig deeper. Not just into Fang Lu's actions — but into who he interacted with before and during the hiring process.
And what they found was disturbing.
Several documents traced coded messages and indirect exchanges that, though not directly incriminating, pointed toward one man: Lei Minghao.
A high noble of the inner circle. Ambitious. Charismatic. Well-connected. And recently, increasingly antagonistic to Wuchen's rise in the household.
Lei Tianlong stood alone in his war chamber with these papers in hand. He did not call a public trial. Not yet.
But he summoned Minghao privately.
When the noble entered, his expression was calm. "Duke. You summoned me?"
"Yes."
Tianlong held the papers.
"Your name came up. Not directly. But enough."
Minghao's smile didn't waver. "Rumors, I'm sure. I've always supported the family."
"Then consider this a warning."
The duke stepped closer.
"I'll be watching. And if your hands ever reach for what is not yours — I will sever them myself."
Minghao's smile cracked just slightly.
He left the chamber with his reputation damaged.
No official charges were laid. But the neutral nobles who once backed him began to pull away. His influence waned.
And Wuchen's rise, for now, would go uncontested.
---
In the days that followed, the mansion atmosphere shifted.
Wuchen was celebrated. Not with loud festivities, but with quiet respect. Nobles and warriors who once avoided him now nodded when passing. Some even began addressing him as "Young Master" instead of just "boy."
Lei Qingshan, though wounded, recovered quickly. His name once again stirred whispers among the younger warriors — a legend that had walked through fire and returned.
And the Duke, with a vigilant eye, continued his silent war — not of swords, but of politics, loyalties and shadows.
But deep down, he knew:
> This was only the beginning.
The real enemies had yet to reveal their faces.
And the path ahead for Lei Wuchen... would be lined with trials far greater than blades.