Huo Zheng dismounted from his horse and walked into the Lu Family compound as if he owned it.
His six Crimson River soldiers fanned out behind him, their fire-attribute qi flaring in the misty morning air like six torches arranged in a semicircle.
The heat from their auras made the puddles in the courtyard steam.
Lu Chen stood on the front steps and watched them with calm, dark eyes.
His Foundation Establishment Stage 1 cultivation hummed quietly beneath the Cloudmist Jade Pendant’s suppression field, invisible to the Crimson River soldiers but ready to activate at a moment’s notice.
Huo Zheng stopped in the center of the courtyard and surveyed the compound’s peeling paint, warped wooden beams, and overgrown herb garden with an expression of theatrical disappointment.
“This is the Lu Family estate?” he asked.
“It is,” Lu Chen said.
“I’ve seen stables in the Crimson River capital with better construction.”
Two of the soldiers laughed.
Lu Chen did not react.
Huo Zheng turned his attention back to Lu Chen and produced a scroll from his sleeve, unfurling it with a snap of his wrist.
The scroll bore the seal of the Crimson River Kingdom’s Third Prince — a crimson flame stamped into black wax.
“By authority of Prince Han Ming, Third Prince of the Crimson River Kingdom, and in accordance with the Han Family’s formal petition for external arbitration, I am here to deliver an ultimatum.”
Huo Zheng’s voice carried across the courtyard, loud enough for the gathering crowd of Lu Family servants and elders to hear.
“The Lu Family will surrender all rights to the Dragon Ridge spirit stone deposit within thirty days.”
“In exchange, the Crimson River Kingdom will guarantee your family’s safety and provide a modest annual stipend of five hundred spirit stones.”
“Failure to comply will be interpreted as an act of hostility against the Crimson River Kingdom, and appropriate military measures will be taken.”
He rolled the scroll closed and smiled.
“Thirty days, Young Master Lu.”
“I suggest you use them wisely.”
The courtyard was silent.
Elder Lu Wei’s face had gone the color of old ash.
Elder Lu Han stood in the doorway of the law hall with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.
And Lu Yuan sat on the second-floor balcony of the main hall, a cup of tea in his hands, watching the scene below with the same calm, distant eyes he always wore.
He did not stand.
He did not speak.
He did not intervene.
Lu Chen felt a flicker of something cold in his chest — not anger, but a sharp, crystalline awareness that his father was watching this humiliation unfold and choosing to do nothing.
He filed the observation away and focused on Huo Zheng.
**[System scan initiated.]**
**[Target: Huo Zheng, Crimson River Envoy.]**
**[Realm: Foundation Establishment Stage 6.]**
**[Threat level: Moderate.
Within System 1.0 scan range.]**
**[Secondary anomaly detected: Concealed artifact on target’s person.]**
**[Artifact energy signature: Extremely dense.
Non-standard.]**
**[Attempting deep scan.]**
Lu Chen’s attention locked onto a faint pulse of energy emanating from beneath Huo Zheng’s silk robes, somewhere near his chest.
It was not qi.
It was something older, something heavier, something that resonated with a frequency that made the Chaos Origin Pearl in his dantian shudder with recognition.
He pushed the System’s scan deeper, trying to penetrate the artifact’s outer layer and identify its origin.
The backlash was instantaneous.
**[WARNING: FORCED SCAN PENALTY TRIGGERED.]**
**[Target artifact grade: Saint-tier.
Exceeds System 1.0 scan cap by 4+ major realms.]**
**[Penalty: 15% qi depletion.
Meridian strain.
Seal instability for 30 seconds.]**
**[DO NOT REPEAT.]**
Pain exploded behind Lu Chen’s eyes like a lightning bolt striking the inside of his skull.
His vision went white.
Blood erupted from his nose and streamed down his upper lip.
The Ninefold Chaos Suppression Seal in his dantian lurched violently, its invisible walls cracking and reforming in rapid, agonizing succession, and the Chaos Origin Pearl spun out of control for three full seconds before stabilizing.
Lu Chen staggered.
He caught himself on the doorframe, one hand pressed against the wood, the other wiping blood from his face.
The entire episode lasted less than five seconds.
To the Crimson River soldiers, it looked like the weak young master had flinched at Huo Zheng’s aura.
Huo Zheng smirked.
“Nervous?” he asked.
Lu Chen straightened slowly, his heart hammering, his meridians burning, his qi reserves suddenly fifteen percent lighter than they had been a heartbeat ago.
He forced his breathing to steady.
He forced his expression to calm.
He forced the blood to stop flowing.
Saint-tier artifact.
Huo Zheng was carrying a Saint-tier artifact hidden beneath his robes.
A Foundation Establishment Stage 6 envoy had no business possessing a Saint-tier anything.
That kind of artifact belonged to kingdom rulers, to ancient sect patriarchs, to beings who operated at a level so far above Cloudmist City that the entire frontier was less than a footnote in their records.
Someone in the Crimson River Kingdom’s royal court had given Huo Zheng that artifact.
Which meant the Crimson River Kingdom’s interest in Dragon Ridge was not a minor border dispute.
It was a strategic operation backed by power that Lu Chen could not yet comprehend.
**[Scan data recovered: Partial.]**
**[Artifact classification: Crimson River Royal Seal (Fragment).]**
**[Function: Defensive barrier + communication relay to Crimson River capital.]**
**[Implication: King Han Lie is personally monitoring this operation.]**
Lu Chen’s blood ran colder than the mountain wind.
King Han Lie.
A Saint-realm ruler.
A man who could destroy Cloudmist City with a thought.
And he was watching.
“I’ll consider your offer,” Lu Chen said quietly.
Huo Zheng’s smirk widened.
“See that you do.”
He turned on his heel and walked back to his horse, his crimson robes swirling in the mist.
“Thirty days, Young Master Lu.”
“The clock starts now.”
He mounted his horse and rode out through the compound gate, his six soldiers falling into formation behind him.
The hooves faded into the morning fog.
The courtyard was silent.
Lu Chen stood on the steps with blood on his sleeve and a Saint-tier revelation burning in his mind.
Above him, on the second-floor balcony, Lu Yuan set down his tea cup.
His hands were trembling.
But his voice, when it came, was steady.
“Chen.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You have thirty days.”
Lu Yuan met his son’s eyes, and for the first time in Lu Chen’s life, the calm mask cracked enough to reveal something raw and desperate underneath.
“Make them count.”
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