The training hall was deathly silent. Reylan could hear the faint crackle of spirit lamps overhead.
Varak Thane lay crumpled against the far wall, his purple robes torn, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His shattered sword lay in three pieces on the stone floor. The Thunder Tyrant Empire delegation—four armored retainers and a stern supervisor—stared at their young genius as if he had sprouted a second head.
Reylan lowered the iron sword. The faint white glow around the blade vanished, leaving only the dull gleam of common steel. Yet every eye in the hall remained fixed on him.
Patriarch Lin Fengtian rose slowly from the high seat. His wrinkled face, usually unreadable, now held astonishment. The eight elders flanking him exchanged glances ranging from disbelief to outright fear.
"Third Young Master…" one elder whispered, voice hoarse. "That was… Sword Intent?"
Reylan turned, expression calm as still water. "Peak of the Aura realm, actually. The Intent came naturally once the meridians opened." He spoke the lie smoothly; in truth, the Eternal Sword Heart had simply remembered what it once was. No one here needed to know that yet.
A Thunder Tyrant retainer stepped forward, face flushed with rage. "Impossible! Our young master reached late-stage Intent after three years of Thunder Tyrant Academy training! You expect us to believe a crippled whelp from a declining branch—"
"Enough." The supervisor cut him off with a sharp gesture. His eyes narrowed on Reylan, calculating. "The Lin Clan has hidden a dragon. We will report this to the main family. The spar was meant to instruct. It seems the instruction went the other way."
He bowed stiffly to Patriarch Lin Fengtian. "The Thunder Tyrant Empire does not forget slights… nor opportunities."
The delegation helped the groaning Varak to his feet and swept out, cloaks swirling. The heavy doors boomed shut behind them.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
Then the hall erupted.
"Third Young Master! You—how?!""Was that the Gale Piercing Strike? It was only recorded in the outer pavilion!""His aura… sharper than Elder Hu's!"
Lin Fengtian raised a hand. Instantly, the chatter ceased. He descended the dais, robes whispering across polished stone, and stopped three paces from Reylan. His gaze lingered on the boy's face, as though seeing him for the first time.
"Reylan," he said quietly, using the boy's given name instead of a formal title. "Explain."
Reylan met his grandfather's eyes without flinching. In his first life, this man had looked the other way when rival clans poisoned his meridians at age seven. He had been ignored when the family stripped him of resources and acknowledged him only after he clawed his way to the top of the Astra Empire on his own.
Never again.
"A breakthrough," Reylan said simply. "The damaged veins healed this morning. The rest followed."
Elder Jian, bald with a scar across his cheek, snorted. "Healing overnight? Even high-grade pills from the imperial capital take weeks! If you've found some forbidden method—"
Reylan's eyes flicked to him. A sliver of Sword Intent leaked out, invisible to most but enough to choke the elder's words. The air around Elder Jian suddenly felt like standing on a blade's edge.
"I found nothing forbidden," Reylan said softly. "Only what was always mine."
Patriarch Lin Fengtian studied him a heartbeat longer, then nodded. "All of you, out. Training hall is closed for the day. Reylan, remain."
Clan members exited in stunned silence. The rival young masters who had mocked him avoided his gaze. Lin Kai, the second young master, clenched his fists so hard his knuckles whitened. Hatred flashed across his face before he could hide it.
Reylan noted it quietly. Lin Kai. Another name for his ledger of grudges and future reckonings.
When the doors closed, only the patriarch, three trusted elders, and Reylan remained.
"Sit," Lin Fengtian said.
They moved to the side pavilion above, looking down the training field. Servants brought steaming spiritual tea, infused with faint sword qi. Reylan accepted a cup but did not drink—poison was too common in noble houses.
"The Imperial Sword Academy examination is in seven days," the patriarch began. "Every major clan sends their best. The top ten receive direct entry and imperial resources. The rest… outer sects. In the past, our Lin Clan has never placed higher than thirty-second."
Reylan set the cup down. "This year, we will take first place."
Elder Jian laughed bitterly. "With what army? Our best outer disciple is only mid-Intent. You are one boy—"
"I am enough," Reylan interrupted. No arrogance—only the certainty forged across two lifetimes of war. "I will need resources. Unrestricted access to the clan vault, the forbidden pavilion, and no more… accidents from within the family."
The patriarch's eyes sharpened. "You know about the assassination attempt at age seven?"
Reylan smiled thinly. "I know more than you think, Grandfather. The one who ordered it was from the main branch of the Shadowthorn Clan. They still watch us. They will move again before the academy exam."
He leaned forward. "I also know the Void Rift will tear open in the northern wastes in twenty-five years. The empires will bleed. And when they do, they will seek a savior… or a scapegoat."
The three elders recoiled. Even the patriarch's teacup trembled.
"How could you possibly—"
"Because I have seen it." Reylan's whisper filled the pavilion, heavy with inevitability. "This time, I will not bleed for ungrateful thrones."
He stood. The iron sword at his waist hummed faintly, responding to his will.
"Give me what I ask, and the Lin Clan will rise higher than it has in three centuries. Refuse, and I leave tonight, never to return. The choice is yours."
Lin Fengtian stared at the boy who had once been the family's shame. Something ancient and calculating moved in his eyes. Finally, he nodded.
"The vault is yours until the exam. The forbidden pavilion… one hour per day. And Reylan—do not become what they fear you will become."
Too late, Reylan thought. I already am.
He bowed once, perfectly respectful, then turned and left.
Outside, dusk bathed the compound in blood-red light. Servants scurried away. Whispers followed him like shadows.
In the quiet of his courtyard, Reylan exhaled slowly. The Eternal Sword Heart pulsed in his chest, feeding him memories of techniques that could level mountains. The Gale Piercing Strike had been nothing more than a greeting.
Now, it was time for something real.
He walked to the ancestral shrine behind his residence—abandoned and overgrown in this timeline. Pushing aside vines, he pressed his palm against the worn stone altar. A hidden formation was activated, recognising the future Sword Sovereign's bloodline.
The floor slid open, revealing stairs descending into darkness.
Below lay a sealed training chamber that the clan had forgotten centuries ago.
Reylan descended. Torches of eternal flame ignited along the walls. At the centre stood a cracked stone pillar carved with nine interlocking sword runes—the Ninefold Annihilation Sword Array, a technique he had forged after slaughtering three Void Lords in his previous life.
He drew the iron sword and sat cross-legged.
"First layer," he murmured.
He circulated the Eternal Sword Heart at full power. Mana roared through his meridians like a river breaking its dam. Childhood-damaged veins healed in seconds, then strengthened beyond mortal limits. Black impurities boiled from his skin, burning in the torchlight.
Sword intent thickened until the air itself screamed.
Reylan raised the blade.
Second Technique – Void Severing Slash (Beginner Form).
The sword descended in a simple vertical cut. No flashy lights. No thunder. Just a black line slicing through the air, reality itself trembling in its wake. The stone pillar split cleanly, thirty feet of wall tearing open before the line vanished.
Dust settled.
A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth—not from injury, but from forcing a Divine-tier technique through a body newly perfected in Aura.
He smiled.
"Twenty-five years," he whispered to the empty chamber. "Sword Soul in three. Sword Dao in ten. And when the empires come for me… they will find a monster wearing their own history as a cloak."
Above ground, night had fallen. Patriarch Lin Fengtian stared at a glowing scrying orb showing Reylan's courtyard. The boy's aura had vanished once he entered the hidden stairs, but residual sword qi made the orb flicker.
"Prepare the best cultivation pills," he said to the elders behind him. "Double the guards around the third young master's residence. No one touches him. Not even family."
One elder hesitated. "Patriarch… if he truly knows about the Void Rift—"
"Then the heavens have given our Lin Clan a second chance," Lin Fengtian said softly. "Or a second calamity. Either way… we ride the blade."