Chapter 334: White Tower

The tomb had been opened. The contents of the ancestor’s ring were in his hands. The guardian was dead. The young man had fled.

The journey to the Blood Court would continue.

Kyrian flew for the rest of the night, crossing mountain ranges and deep valleys under the starry sky. Arcon flew in a straight line, its wings beating in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. The wind cut across Kyrian’s face, but he did not blink.

When dawn arrived, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink, Kyrian had Arcon land in an isolated valley. The beast needed to rest. Kyrian did as well.

He fed Arcon with some low-grade spirit stones and sat on a flat rock, meditating for a few hours.

After resting, they continued.

The second day of travel was monotonous. Dark clouds began to appear on the horizon ahead, not ordinary clouds, but the heavy clouds that marked the approach to the territory of the Blood Court. The sky gradually grew darker and the air heavier.

Kyrian recognized that landscape.

The desolate plain stretched out before him, a sea of cracked earth and low, twisted vegetation. The wind howled through the fissures in the ground, creating sounds that resembled laments. Above, the black clouds swirled slowly, as if they were alive.

And at the center of the plain, invisible to most, stood the fortress.

Kyrian flew directly toward the illusory barrier. His crimson eyes saw through it with ease, the great black wall, the red veins pulsing like arteries, and the spiked towers rising toward the clouded sky.

He passed through the barrier without impediment.

The air changed instantly. Outside, the Qi was turbulent, wild. Inside the barrier, the Qi was dense and controlled, as if the fortress itself breathed.

Kyrian had Arcon land in the stables of the outer area. A servant of the Court, a young man in a gray robe, ran to receive the beast.

“Take good care of him.” Kyrian said, dismounting.

The servant bowed deeply.

“Yes, young master Kyrian.”

Kyrian walked toward the main entrance of the fortress. The black doors opened on their own as he approached, creaking on their ancient hinges.

The interior of the Blood Court was silent.

Not in the sense of emptiness, there were servants moving through the corridors, coming and going in their daily tasks.

Kyrian did not find Bai Zhu or the others in the corridors. They were probably on some mission or training in their own quarters. He did not ask.

His destination was the Blood Core hall.

He climbed the wide stairs of dark stone, passed by guards who recognized him and let him through without question, and finally arrived before the great doors of the hall.

They were open.

Inside, the hall was empty, except for one man.

Dong Zhen stood in the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore his usual robe, red like coagulated blood, with black embroidery. His dark hair was tied in a simple bun, and his short beard was neatly trimmed.

He was not looking at the door. But Kyrian knew that Dong Zhen had sensed his arrival long before he entered.

The leader of the Blood Court turned slowly. His eyes swept over Kyrian from head to toe, evaluating, measuring.

He nodded.

“You are stronger.” Dong Zhen said. It was not a question. It was a statement.

Kyrian inclined his head in a gesture of respect.

“Leader Dong Zhen.”

“Did you settle your matters in the Verdant Sword sect?” Dong Zhen asked directly, without preamble.

Kyrian nodded.

“Yes. I finished all the matters I had with the sect.”

Dong Zhen made a gesture with his hand, indicating that Kyrian should approach.

“Tell me how it went.”

Kyrian summarized the events of the Meeting of the Domains, the fights, the opponents, and the final victory. He did not go into many details. Dong Zhen did not need to know every sword movement or every technique used. Only enough to understand the result.

Dong Zhen listened in silence, without interrupting. When Kyrian finished, he nodded again.

“Good. You honored the Court even while using the name of another sect.”

Kyrian did not respond. There was something else that needed to be said.

“On the way back,” Kyrian said, his voice neutral,

“I encountered two people. From something called the White Tower.”

The name hung in the air like a cloud of poison.

Dong Zhen frowned immediately. His expression, which moments before had been relaxed, hardened like stone.

“Where?” he asked, his voice suddenly lower, more controlled.

“Did they attack you?”

“Yes. They tried to kill me,” Kyrian replied with the same calm as always.

“They were not strong enough. I killed one of them. The other fled with a teleportation treasure.”

Dong Zhen frowned even more. His hand, which had been relaxed at his side, clenched into a fist for a moment before opening again.

“Those damned fools,” he muttered, more to himself than to Kyrian.

Kyrian noticed Dong Zhen’s strained expression. The furrowed brow, the clenched fist, the way his eyes narrowed upon hearing the name of the White Tower. It was not just irritation. It was something deeper.

Frustration. Perhaps even helplessness.

Kyrian grew more curious.

“Let’s go to my room,” Dong Zhen said, turning toward a side door in the hall.

“I will explain everything I know about them.”

Kyrian followed him.

Dong Zhen’s room was on the upper level of the Blood Core, a tower separate from the rest of the fortress. The walls were lined with dark wood, and a large stone table occupied the center. Scrolls, jade slips, and maps were spread across it, indicating that Dong Zhen had been studying something before Kyrian’s arrival.

Dong Zhen sat behind the table in a tall chair with a straight back. Kyrian remained standing in front of the table, as was appropriate for a disciple before his leader.

Dong Zhen remained silent for a moment, organizing his thoughts.

Then he began.

“The White Tower is a 4° level force, just like the Blood Court. And it is one of our oldest and most troublesome enemies.” He said.

Kyrian inclined his head.

“It seems the matter is deeper than I expected. Tell me.”

Dong Zhen sighed, a tired sound, like someone who had told that story many times before.

“Well. I will start from the beginning.”

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