The Serrin incident spread quietly through the noble district.
Not loudly.
Not publicly.
But enough people noticed that the Viremont heir had resolved the trade conflict without embarrassing himself.
That alone disturbed certain individuals.
Including those who preferred the old Kael.
Three nights later, Kael was alone in his underground training chamber.
He had dismissed attendants.
The Blood Devouring Art circulated steadily through his meridians. The crimson flow no longer felt chaotic. It obeyed him.
He exhaled slowly.
His Foundation trembled lightly.
Close to Mid stage.
Very close.
That was when he felt it.
A presence.
Faint.
Controlled.
Not from the main corridor.
From above.
Someone had entered the estate.
Quietly.
Kael did not move immediately.
He slowed his breathing instead.
Whoever it was, they were skilled.
Foundation Late at minimum.
Possibly hired.
The Serrin family?
Unlikely.
Too soon.
Halcrest?
More likely.
Or someone inside his own clan testing him.
Interesting.
The training chamber door did not open.
Instead, the ceiling mechanism shifted slightly.
A thin needle shot downward.
Poisoned.
Kael stepped aside calmly.
The needle embedded into stone.
A shadow dropped silently into the room.
Dressed in dark cloth.
Face covered.
Blade already moving.
The assassin did not speak.
He aimed for Kael's throat.
Fast.
Precise.
Kael blocked with his forearm and redirected the blade's angle. Sparks flew as metal scraped against reinforced bracer.
Foundation Late.
Confirmed.
The assassin pressed harder.
Kael did not retreat.
He rotated his Qi.
Primordial circulation compressed.
Blood Devouring Art activated lightly.
Their energies clashed.
The assassin froze slightly.
He felt it.
His Qi was being disturbed.
Not drained fully.
But destabilized.
"What technique—" the assassin muttered.
Kael did not answer.
He stepped inside the blade range.
Close combat.
Less room for speed advantage.
The assassin shifted to dagger grip and slashed toward Kael's ribs.
Kael accepted a shallow cut rather than retreat.
Pain was temporary.
Position mattered more.
His palm struck the assassin's chest.
Direct contact.
This time he did not hold back.
The Blood Devouring Art surged.
Crimson threads wrapped around the assassin's heart meridian.
The assassin tried to disengage.
Too late.
His Qi flow faltered violently.
Panic flashed in his eyes.
Kael maintained grip.
Steady.
Controlled.
He did not shout.
He did not rush.
He absorbed.
The assassin's Foundation cracked audibly.
Energy poured into Kael's dantian.
Wild at first.
Then refined by the Primordial circulation.
The assassin collapsed.
Dead.
Silence returned to the chamber.
Kael stood still.
Blood dripped from his side where the blade had cut him.
But his breathing remained even.
Inside, his Foundation shook.
The absorbed energy was large.
Foundation Late level.
He guided it carefully.
Compressed.
Refined.
Merged.
Minutes passed.
Then—
The tremor settled.
His Foundation crossed into Mid stage.
Stable.
Clean.
No instability.
He exhaled slowly.
Foundation Mid.
And far denser than before.
He looked at the body.
The assassin carried no family emblem.
Professional.
Hired.
Kael knelt and searched him.
A small insignia hidden under the sleeve.
A serpent.
He recognized it.
Black Serpent Syndicate.
Mercenary organization.
Expensive.
Which meant someone with money wanted him removed.
He stood up calmly.
Not anger.
Not excitement.
Information.
That was what mattered.
Instead of reporting immediately to the elders, Kael summoned his personal guard captain.
"Seal this chamber," he ordered.
"Yes, Young Master."
"Discreetly."
"Yes."
Kael looked once more at the corpse.
"This stays between us."
The captain hesitated.
"You wish to handle it alone?"
"Yes."
He would not let the elders use this as proof of instability.
If someone inside the clan arranged this—
He would confirm first.
Later that night, Kael stood by the estate balcony.
Foundation Mid.
His Qi heavier.
His presence more stable.
He did not feel euphoric.
He felt clearer.
One assassin meant testing.
More would follow.
That was fine.
He preferred enemies that moved openly.
Because when they moved—
They exposed themselves.
Across the city, in a quiet room lit by single candle, a man received news.
"The assassin failed."
The man's expression did not change.
"And?"
"He is dead."
Silence.
After a moment, the man spoke.
"Interesting."
Back at the Viremont estate, Kael closed his eyes.
Three years until destruction.
The timeline had already shifted.
Good.
He preferred chaos.
Because chaos could be controlled—
If you understood it first.