In a quiet room, an old man with brown hair sat calmly on a chair. The deep wrinkles on his face and the wisdom in his eyes created a peaceful aura around him. Beside him sat a middle-aged man who bore many similarities to the elder, and standing before them was a teenage boy with brown hair, brown eyes, and a fox-like face.
"Hahaha! Father, did you see Elder Alvin's face at the funeral?" the middle-aged man laughed uncontrollably.
"Daniel, keep your voice down…" said the old man in a warning tone. He was Elder George Lucas of the Kilvish Clan, and the long-time rival of Elder Alvin.
"Daniel, we'll talk about this later. Lauren, don't you think it's time to report about your trip?" Elder George said, turning his attention to the teen.
Lauren, who had been standing silently, straightened his back and began to recount the entire incident in Mist Valley. As he finished his tale, a heavy silence settled over the room.
"That child proved once again that he is the son of a dragon," Elder George said calmly, emotionlessly.
Daniel's cheerful expression faded instantly. His fists clenched tightly in his lap.
"Yes, Grandfather. Even I underestimated him," Lauren said seriously. "The power he showed me aboard the Spirit Ship truly justified his title as one of the Twin Shadows."
"You fool! Do you feel no shame in praising your rival?" Daniel snapped, raising his voice. Daniel had always harbored an inferiority complex toward Charles Kilvish, and hearing his own son praise Kaal ignited his resentment.
Lauren lowered his head in silence.
Elder George chuckled softly, then addressed his grandson.
"You don't need to lower your head, Lauren. Praising your rival only means you acknowledge his strength. It keeps you alert—it reminds you to never let your guard down around him," George said peacefully, guiding him with the wisdom of experience.
But deep inside, Elder George was disappointed. Not with Lauren, but with his son Daniel—whose rashness and emotional outbursts revealed his lack of control. Thankfully, the heavens had blessed him with a capable grandson.
Lauren felt encouraged by his grandfather's words. With a grateful smile, he said,
"Thank you for your advice, Grandfather. I also need your permission to kill everyone who knows about this operation, and to arrange for a scapegoat who can act as the spy who leaked the Raven information to the Jeral Clan—to divert Elder Alvin's attention."
"Oh, you didn't even need to ask. Proceed as you see fit," Elder George replied with a nod. "Just make sure there are no clues that link back to us."
He knew this was a chance for Lauren to gain real experience. In the Kilvish Clan, to remain at the top, one needed to master not only cultivation but also the art of politics and deception.
"I understand, Grandfather," said Lauren, bowing his head.
********************************
{Somewhere in an underground chamber...}
A man was bound tightly to a chair with thick ropes. There was no sign of breath or Qi—he was already dead. His face bore many injuries, showing clear signs of torture before death.
Standing beside him was a 19-year-old teen with yellow hair and black eyes, radiating a kingly aura. He was Samrat Kilvish, son of Grand Elder William Kilvish, and one of the Twin Shadows of the Kilvish Clan alongside Kaal.
Wiping blood from his hands with a handkerchief, Samrat spoke with irritation in his voice.
"Even killing this worm hasn't relieved my frustration…"
Nearby, an old man dressed in servant's clothes stepped forward, silently accepting the bloodstained cloth. He then returned to his original position without showing any emotion. This was Reeve, a loyal servant sent by Grand Elder William to protect Samrat from harm.
"Just seeing that bastard's face at the funeral ruined my entire week. And I had to attend the funeral of that f**ing dog*!?" Samrat shouted, stabbing the corpse again and again.
"F***! F***! F***!" he screamed, continuing to drive the knife into the lifeless body.
Samrat had always been spoiled—everything he wanted, he received. His cultivation journey had been smooth, aided by his father and his rare blue-colored talent. He was proud of his pure Kilvish bloodline and looked down on those without one, often not even considering them human.
The one thing he had desired since childhood was the position of clan leader. But his dream had met a formidable obstacle: Kaal Kilvish—a boy with equal backing, equal talent, and worse—four years younger. This wounded Samrat's pride deeply.
He could do nothing to Kaal, and hearing people compare them, or worse, say Kaal was superior, drove him mad.
"Bring me another one, Kevin…" Samrat ordered without even glancing at the servant.
"Yes, young master," Reeve replied.
Moments later, he returned, dragging another terrified man into the chamber.
Soon, the underground chamber was once again filled with the sound of stabbing.
The air turned thick, haunted by the screams and the eerie rhythm of repeated violence—a scene of silent madness, soaked in blood and darkness.