Han Zhennan stood frozen, confusion raw in his voice as he pulled his wife protectively behind him. "What's—what's going on!?" he demanded, every syllable trembling.
Han Zhenwu remained still, words held beneath a cold, patient surface. In his mind he turned over the plan again, ruthless and precise. "I have no use for this boy anymore... he will most definitely not believe anything that I will say and will fight for that woman and his kid, and if I take them forcefully he will resent me and most likely try to kill me in the future. It's all for nothing. So I might as well add a new part to my plan and use him along for the ritual to break into the inheritance. I'll fabricate enough things to make him look as if he was brainwashed by that woman and joined a demonic faction, and I'll just kill them in self-defense or anything of similar strategy. You've disappointed me, Zhennan. You could've taken the inheritance—something I have trained you for over a decade—but for some reason you chose to throw all that away for someone you married a few years ago. While it is my fault that you were influenced by them, I will pay for that mistake by wiping them out of existence."
Han Zhenwu's face did not move, he sent a transmissive message to the general next to him. "Tianhun," he keeping his voice low, "it should be obvious that this boy will fight before he listens to us. Do me a favor—knock him out and seal his Qi. I don't want him to hate me for doing what's good for him because I know he's too young to understand. Do that for me."
Xie Tianhun looked at Han Zhenwu with a long, unreadable look. He felt a knot of unease twist in his gut—an instinct that told him something darker lay beneath the plan—but he had no concrete evidence to refuse an imperial-aligned order. Duty and the empire's mandate closed his options. In the name of rooting out demonic cultivators, he moved.
In a single, blade-quick motion Xie Tianhun struck. His blow drove into Han Zhennan's stomach, the force of it exploding the air from the boy's lungs. Han Zhennan crumpled, the world folding into a single black star as he hit the floor.
"He—" He Ruying's scream tore from her throat as she threw herself to his side, clutching their child. The baby wailed as confusion turned to terror. She cried out, hands shaking, voice raw. "No—no, please—do not—"
Xie Tianhun wasted no time. He sealed Han Zhennan's cultivation with a practiced motion—binding seals that chilled the air where they stamped—and then snapped iron cuffs around the boy's wrists. The cuffs hummed with suppression: Qi locked, movement limited, the danger neutralized for the moment.
The room rang with the child's cries and He Ruying's sobs. Han Zhenwu watched impassively, the cold architect of the scene, while Xie Tianhun completed the arrest with the efficiency of a man who had done this before.
Han Zhennan stood frozen in confusion, pulling his wife behind him as he demanded, "What's—what's going on!?"
Han Zhenwu remained silent, his face calm but his mind turning cold. I have no use for this boy anymore… He won't believe a word I say. He'll fight for that woman and his child—and if I try to take them by force, he'll resent me and eventually try to kill me. It's all for nothing. I might as well add a new piece to my plan—use him as well in the ritual to break into the inheritance. I'll fabricate enough to make him look like he was brainwashed by that woman, that he joined a demonic faction… then I'll kill them in self-defense, or something close enough. You've disappointed me, Zhennan. You could have taken the inheritance—something I spent over a decade preparing you for—but you chose to throw it away for a woman you've known for only a few years. While it's my fault you were influenced by them, I'll correct my mistake by erasing it entirely.
Han Zhenwu's expression softened as he sent a transmitted message to Xie Tianhun:
"Tianhun, it should be obvious by now that the boy will fight before he listens to reason. Do me a favor and knock him out—seal his Qi so he doesn't do anything reckless. I don't want him to hate me for doing what's best for him. He's too young to understand."
Xie Tianhun gave him a long, hard look. Something in him stirred uneasily—an instinct whispering that something wasn't right. But he had no proof, and this was an imperial matter; his duty was to capture all suspects tied to demonic cultivation until trial. The only one exempt—per his and Zhenwu's private agreement—was He Ruying, whom he'd hand over discreetly later.
Without warning, Xie Tianhun moved. His figure blurred, and in the next instant, his palm struck Han Zhennan square in the stomach. The young man's breath exploded from his lungs as he collapsed, unconscious.
"ZHENNAN!" He Ruying's scream tore through the hall as she dropped beside him, clutching their child close, the baby wailing in her arms.
Xie Tianhun sealed Han Zhennan's Qi with a few quick motions and shackled him. Han Zhenwu then stepped forward, striking He Ruying at the back of her neck to knock her out gently, then placed a hand over the baby's forehead, putting it to sleep without harm.
He turned toward Xie Tianhun, his face heavy with sorrow and restraint—the perfect mask. Letting out a sigh, he spoke in a weary tone, "Tianhun… I'll request that you let me handle this personally. I… I need to explain everything to my son. And to be honest, I won't kill He Ruying after seeing him like this. I'll just imprison her for treason."
Xie Tianhun hesitated. His gut twisted with unease—something about Zhenwu's calm composure didn't sit right. He'd always known Han Zhenwu as a cunning man, a strategist capable of anything, yet he also knew the man loved his son deeply. That contradiction was what unsettled him. Still, he had his orders.
"Fine," he said at last. "Suit yourself. My business here is done. As for everything belonging to the He and Xue clans, the empire will find a suitable division—one that satisfies you, of course." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "But I'll warn you, Zhenwu—don't let sentiment cloud your judgment. Don't let her go or be swayed by your son to make her punishment light. Remember, she's still a suspect of demonic arts."
With that, Xie Tianhun turned and left, leading several detained members of the He and Xue clans away. He left behind a detachment of imperial soldiers to guard, interrogate, and oversee the confiscation of both clans' estates—lands that would soon, as agreed, fall under Han Zhenwu's control.
The room fell silent once again—broken only by the faint cries of a sleeping child and the slow, measured breath of the man who had just betrayed his own blood.
Han Zhenwu moved with the precision of a man who had long ago learned how to hide panic behind command. He barked orders—men to the gates, patrols doubled, every alley sealed. "Lock the compound down. Nobody enters and nobody leaves," he said, voice flat as a blade. Then he demanded, "Find Xue Lian and her child. Bring them to me." His captain's face went pale. "We can't find her, Lord Han." The words struck him like a slap.
A fury that was almost physical rolled through Zhenwu, but he could not abandon the clan to hunt like a man possessed; the empire watched every movement, every slip. He ground his teeth and forced himself to think instead of lash out. Soldiers would be prowling the countryside; imperial scouts specialized in stealth might already be closing in. If he left now to chase his daughter-in-law he would expose the clan—he could not risk that. Still, he ordered men in every direction. "Search every house, every inn. No one is to leave this town. If you find Xue Lian, bring her here privately. Do not—under any circumstance—let her be seen publicly it's for her safety since demonic Cultivators might target her."
He took his son and He Ruying down into the clan's underground chamber, the one used for emergencies. The torches guttered, casting the faces in hard light. Han Zhenwu sat at the map table and stared at the inked lines as if they might change course to make his choices easier. Rage and calculation fought behind his eyes; neither won.
In his mind he replayed it all with lethal clarity. "This boy has ruined too much," he told himself. "If I kill his son and wife, he will hate me and try to kill me later. If I kill him too, the clan will fracture—others will never trust me again. If I merely imprison them, the empire will dig and find the truth. If I expose them as demonic, the empire will investigate, and my hands will be stained by suspicion." He ground his fingers into the table until the wood creaked. "I could have hired demonic Cultivators to snatch the child and make it look like bandits, but the empire is watching too closely. No. I cannot act like a broken, sobbing father who then casually murders his family. It would be obvious."
There was only one path left he was willing to take. He forced himself to breathe slowly, to think like the man who had clawed his way to power. "I will not abandon the inheritance," he decided, voice low and iron. "I cannot. Ever since I lost my Emberwake cultivation, my dantian has decayed. The inheritance is the only thing that can heal me. If I reclaim it, I rebuild the clan, restore my body, and erase everything they stole from me. I will not wait." He stood, the map catching the torchlight on folded creases. His face smoothed into a mask—cold, determined, without pity.
He looked at Han Zhennan, who huddled beside He Ruying, eyes hollow with sleep and seals on his qi. No mercy touched him. "To hell with this," Han Zhenwu said aloud, and the words had the sound of finality. "The empire will not stop me. The sects will not stop me. No one can stop me. I'll take what is mine today."
He moved swiftly, healing himself with the same clinical efficiency he'd used on missions for years. Scars rearranged and muscles tightened as he coaxed his qi back into place. The weakness left the room like smoke; the man who paced the chamber now radiated harsh competence. He spread the map again, fingers tracing paths only he had used—the labyrinth of his secret passages and underground conduits. "I've built chains of pathways for this," he murmured. "A secret route to the inheritance entrance. Getting in will be the easy part. The hard part will be the guardians. Against them, even at my peak, I would fail."
He remembered how the guardians had humiliated him years ago—how they had bound him with silence after he dared to use the demonic arts there. The memory burned. He had been expelled, humiliated before the other heirs. He had been a bastard then; he had clawed himself into the patriarchal seat with blood and cunning. Now, the taste of that old shame returned as a blade. "They showed themselves to me once," he admitted under his breath. "They forced me to swear silence. They branded me a coward who didn't deserve the inheritance. I lost my place. But losing didn't stop me. If I could not beat them by strength, I beat men by guile. If not by guile, by sheer will. If that fails, I will become a beast and beat them with my madness and that's how i got the seat of the patriarch and that's how i will get the inheritance."