Dorian’s eyes widened.
He reached out with a wrinkled hand and carefully grasped the spear, his fingers closing firmly around the icy shaft.
The moment he felt the weapon’s weight settle into his palms, his breath caught in his throat.
The spear began drawing the Qi out of his body almost immediately, sucking it in with a terrifying force that made his eyes widen even further.
Simply wielding this spear would be enough to raise his combat power by twenty percent. Of that, he was absolutely certain!
For someone like him, who had already reached the middle stages of the Spiritual Transformation Realm, such an increase was nothing short of absurd!
For a brief moment, the old leader of the Fallen Sword Sect felt greed burn in his chest. But the feeling didn’t last long.
His mind drifted back to the day he’d had the privilege of wielding the sect’s ancestral sword.
That legendary blade was, without a doubt, inferior to the spear now resting in his hands. And that realization was far from encouraging.
Dorian carefully extended his senses, probing the spear’s aura first, then Kael’s cultivation.
As someone who had lived for two thousand years, he recognized at once that neither the boy’s cultivation technique nor the spear in his hands carried any trace of demonic origin.
That left only two possibilities.
Either Kael had stumbled upon some random stroke of luck and was lying about having a master.
Or this so-called master was indeed real.
The Fallen Sword Sect had existed for twenty thousand years.
Dorian didn’t dare bet that legacy on the first possibility. He wasn’t willing to take that kind of risk.
For this master to hand over such a precious item without batting an eye, he would have to be, at the very least, a Nascent Soul Venerable.
Perhaps even a Void Soul Venerable or a Perfect Soul Venerable—the three cultivation realms above the Mortal Tribulation Realm, where the sect’s own ancestor still resided.
What if that Venerable returned in a few years and discovered that the sect itself had confiscated his disciple’s belongings?
Dorian was smart enough to know he could never bear the consequences of something on that scale.
He stared intently at Kael for a few long seconds. Then, holding the spear out with both hands, he returned it to the young man with a slight nod.
His fingers lingered on the shaft a heartbeat longer than they should have before he finally let go.
He wanted that weapon with every fiber of his being, but he wasn’t willing to die like a fool and drag his entire sect into annihilation over his own greed.
If Kael’s master truly was an expert of the Venerable realm, then maintaining a good relationship with the boy was, by far, the wisest choice.
"G-Grandfather?" Sol stared at Dorian with wide eyes, his voice faltering. "What are you doing?"
Dorian slowly turned his head, his icy eyes settling on Sol like two sharp blades.
The young man shuddered under the weight of that gaze, swallowing the words still trying to escape his throat.
Still, the fury in Sol’s eyes hadn’t dissipated. Killing intent continued to smolder deep within them, and his hands curled into trembling fists at his sides.
Kael sensed that hatred the instant his fingers closed around the shaft of his returned spear, its familiar chill seeping into his palm. A faint smile curved the corner of his lips.
As a huge fan of xianxia novels, he already had a very clear idea of what would come next.
An arrogant young master suffering from "two-neuron syndrome" would never be able to swallow a defeat of that magnitude!
"Young Kael..." Dorian’s voice echoed through the hall, a feigned kindness settling over his wrinkled face.
"It is truly a blessing for our sect that you have not only regained your cultivation but have also secured a powerful master."
Dorian rose from his throne.
"Your grandfather is proud of you. The Celestial Treasure Pavilion will organize all the resources owed to you, and within a week, everything will be delivered into your hands."
"Thank you, Grandfather!" Kael declared, clasping his fists in front of his chest and bowing respectfully.
He slowly raised his head, taking in Sol’s furious expression before shifting to Lucian Purewind, whose face was filled with contempt.
Kael answered that contempt with a provocative smile, one he directed specifically at the woman standing beside Lucian—his wife.
When she noticed Kael’s gaze on her, the woman frowned in apparent displeasure but kept her lips pressed tightly together, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her sleeve.
Without letting his smile fade, Kael turned to the side.
There stood his stepmother, Selene, her eyes shining with determination as she took a firm step forward, the generous swell of her chest giving a slow, heavy sway beneath her robes.
"Father-in-law, now that the origin of little Kael’s power has been properly clarified, don’t you think it’s time we demanded compensation for the assassination attempt he suffered?"
Selene’s sweet voice echoed like thunder through the throne room, silencing everyone present in a fraction of a second.
Shocked faces turned toward her in unison.
Selene raised her arm and pointed a finger straight at Seraphine, her eyes flashing with pure murderous intent.
"You cheap whore, step forward and take responsibility!"