Jalen turned to Will, his gaze steady. "I presume all the compensation has already arrived."
"Yes, Lord Jalen," Will answered. "We've received everything you demanded three days ago from Tibet and Tulsa—gold, spirit stones, rare formations, and the slaves. They have willingly accepted the slave pacts prepared beforehand and are already positioned to strengthen Ron. Some guard the borders against foreign attack; others assist in construction."
"Good. I trust the work on the new and improved teleportation formations has already begun?"
Will nodded. "Indeed. The formation masters we retrieved from Tulsa and Tibet have joined forces with those we hired here. Using the high‑tier materials delivered, construction began yesterday across every city, town, and village. In two months we will have a network of high‑tier teleportation hubs."
Though Ron had teleportation formations before, they were never of the highest tier. The old network connected only a handful of places—fifteen major cities and three towns—while the rest of the state's towns and villages were forced to rely on ordinary travel. The same was true for the territories absorbed into Ron, such as the former Ethion and half of the Petal and Trident states. The reason was simple: building such formations was prohibitively expensive, requiring vast amounts of spirit stones and the skill of master formation experts.
Now, with the influx of high‑grade materials and formation masters from Tibet and Tulsa, Ron could finally construct a true network—one that would span every city, town, and village. Most importantly, the hubs would be aligned to the same frequencies, ensuring seamless travel across the entire state for both cultivators and mortals.
Jalen's gaze shifted to Frost. His eyes glowed blue as he analyzed him. "You have a rare ice physique. By now you should have crossed into the Transcendent Realm, but a critical injury to your core halted your progress. And because of your physique, intimacy is impossible—any partner would freeze to death in your embrace."
Frost's azure eyes widened. For five centuries he had struggled to recover from the damage, pouring himself into cultivation, yet always meeting the same wall. Hopelessness had become his companion; he knew he would never advance further. The curse of his body he had long accepted as inevitable.
He had first discovered it thousands of years ago, when he was still a young man in his forties. The woman he loved had frozen to death in his arms—not by intent, but by nature itself. Since that day, he had never sought intimacy again. His heart ached for companionship, his soul yearned for offspring, but he lived in silence, bound by the frost within him.
"Senior… How did you know?"
"I can help you solve these things," Jalen said calmly.
Shock rippled through Frost. Could this truly be possible? If Jalen could help him recover and free him from the curse that had stolen love and lineage, then Frost would owe him a debt beyond repayment. "Can you really do this?"
"Yes. But that depends on how well you do your job."
Frost bowed his head. "If you can do this, I am willing to serve you. I'll even agree to a slave pact."
Jalen arched his brow. At Frost's cultivation level, it was impossible to force such a pact—back in the Sage Realm, he had only ever bound those weaker or equal to himself. But for a half‑step powerhouse to willingly submit was beyond expectation. A willing pact carried greater weight than a forced one, harder to break and only undone with the consent of both parties. It would secure Frost's loyalty and bind him irrevocably to Ameer's protection.
Jalen turned briefly to Will. "Take the palace eunuch and leave. Put him to work like the other servants. He is not allowed to slack off—he is to labor day and night unless Ameer orders otherwise."
"As you wish, Lord Jalen," Will replied. He swiftly picked up Rayan, who still lay prostrate, too afraid to move without permission, and departed.
Jalen faced Frost again. "Are you certain you want this?"
Frost's voice was steady. "Why pretend concern? You want to secure the young emperor with this pact. Once bound, there is no way I can betray you."
"So do we seal the pact first or begin your treatment?"
"I said I would do this, and I will keep my word. Besides, if I went against you, you could kill me with ease."
"I'll start your treatment tomorrow."
With that, Jalen vanished from the throne hall in a flash, reappearing at his private residence. In the courtyard, Jael and Calen were already sparring, blades flashing under Ria's watchful gaze.
Jael moved with precision, his strikes sharp, his aura steady. Calen countered with youthful vigor, his blade flashing, his spirit sense probing. Ria, in her humanoid form, stood nearby, watching the two brawl with quiet amusement.
When Jael saw his father return, he ended the match instantly. He could have pressed on, could have won, but he rushed to Jalen instead. His eyes lit up, his voice breaking with joy. "Where have you been these past few days, Dad? I missed you."
Jalen's lips curled faintly. "Still acting like a child, I see."
"Hehe," Jael laughed, scratching his head.
"By the way," Jael continued, "when are we going home to visit Mom, the twins, and Uncle Jared? They must be grown up now."
The mention of his children warmed Jalen's heart. Though only five years had passed in the original world, here he had not seen them in hundreds of years. The thought of their faces, their laughter, stirred something deep within him. In Jalen's heart, a softer memory stirred—the laughter of his twins chasing fireflies in the courtyard, his wife's gentle voice calling them home, and the warmth of family dinners beneath the glow of lanterns. That vision steadied him, even as the palace bent beneath his will, reminding him that beyond conquest and duty lay the bonds that truly mattered.
"We will go see them after I settle things here," Jalen said softly.
Jael nodded, his eyes bright. "I can't wait to see Mom."
Calen stepped forward. "I want to see my mom too."
Jalen and the three spoke for a short while before he withdrew to his chamber. Sitting cross‑legged, he let silence settle around him. His qi surged like rivers of lightning, each breath condensing storms within his dantian. His thoughts turned to the enemy at Kanto Ridge, to the battle looming on the horizon. The continent trembled already, yet greater storms awaited. And Jalen would be ready.