The mouth of the Hong Ha River, where the Mother River merged into the sea, had returned completely to its inherent tranquility. Yet this tranquility was stained with the red hue of blood. The wreckage of dozens of warships and hundreds of demonic cultivators floated upon the water, becoming a sumptuous feast for the aquatic monsters lurking at the river's bottom.
News of the earth-shattering naval battle, of a mysterious fleet bearing the character "TRAN" that used an unfathomable, divine array formation to instantaneously obliterate the elite forces of the Black Dragon Stronghold and the proxy factions of the Marquis of Vinh An, swept up the Hong Ha River like a true tempest, spreading toward the Thang Long Imperial Capital at an unimaginable speed.
The entire capital, once again, was shaken.
At the Marquis of Vinh An's Estate, within a gloomy secret chamber.
"SMASH!!!"
A table crafted from cold jade, incredibly sturdy, was pulverized into fine powder by a single palm strike from the Marquis of Vinh An. A frigid, evil, and Yin-cold aura erupted from his body, causing the air within the chamber to feel as if it were frozen solid.
"TRAN KIEN!!!"
He roared, the sound no longer merely anger, but madness and a sliver of terror he could not conceal. He had lost. He had lost miserably. The most elite forces he had painstakingly deployed to block the path had been mercilessly wiped out. What he thought was a flawless stratagem had become a laughingstock.
"The Lac Viet Heavenly Cycle Array..." he murmured, his eyes brimming with greed and envy. "To think... to think it possesses such terrifying might. To obtain it... I absolutely must obtain it!"
Failure did not cause him to shrink back; instead, it fanned the flames of his usurpatory ambition to the absolute extreme. He knew that on this chessboard, there was no longer any path of retreat.
Meanwhile, at Duke Dinh Quoc's Estate.
The atmosphere was the complete opposite. Duke Dinh Quoc, the veteran general who had spent his life with an ironclad resolve, after hearing Ly Tin report the news from the frontlines, threw his head back and burst into hearty laughter. His laughter was exhilarated and heroic, shaking the very roof of the manor.
"EXCELLENT! TRULY EXCELLENT! Worthy of being a descendant of Lac Viet! Worthy of being the one chosen by the Dragon Veins!"
Uncle Sword merely sat there in silence, wiping his wooden sword, but the corners of his mouth curled into a satisfied smile. Lam Vy's eyes were red-rimmed, overjoyed yet worried for Tran Kien's safety.
"Duke," Tao Chinh, who was also present, spoke in a deep, resonant voice. "Tran Kien... has struck, shattering the encirclement. But this action has also completely exposed his true strength. The Marquis of Vinh An will certainly not sit idly by. I fear the true battle in the imperial capital is about to begin."
"If it begins, then let it begin!" Duke Dinh Quoc slammed the table. "This old man has fought battles my entire life; I have never known fear! The Marquis of Vinh An has dared to plot rebellion and collude with the demonic path. This time, I must report to His Majesty and expose all of his crimes!"
But Tao Chinh merely shook his head slightly, his gaze profound. "Duke, do you truly believe that His Majesty is completely unaware of all these matters?"
Deep within the imperial palace, at the An Lac Temple.
In a quiet Zen meditation room, sandalwood incense curled through the air. Grand Master Phap Chan, the Chief Eunuch of the Inner Palace, sat opposite a figure. That person was clad in imperial robes and wore a sovereign's crown; he was none other than the current Emperor of Dai Viet.
"We have already sensed it," the Emperor said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "The Dragon Veins in Lam Kinh have awakened. And the surge of power just now at the river's mouth—that was it."
"Amitabha," Grand Master Phap Chan softly chanted a Buddhist invocation. "It seems the true inheritor has returned."
"Returned?" The Emperor smiled faintly. "Returned to serve as a knife in the hands of Duke Dinh Quoc, or returned as a tiger seeking to swallow this entire realm?"
"The heart of that benefactor is luminous and righteous," Grand Master Phap Chan said. "But the power of the Lac Viet legacy is far too terrifying. It could shatter the balance that Your Majesty has so painstakingly established."
The Emperor remained silent. He walked to the window, gazing toward the surging currents of the Hong Ha River.
"Let them fight," he finally said after a long while, his voice chilling. "When the tiger and the wolf tear at each other, the fisherman reaps the rewards. We also wish to see: the legacy of the ancestors, versus the authority of the Son of Heaven—in the end, which is truly orthodox."
An invisible hand, the most colossal of them all, had begun to move the chess pieces.
The black fleet did not conceal itself. Raising their black banners bearing the character "TRAN," they sailed against the currents of the Hong Ha River, righteously advancing toward the imperial capital.
Along the way, all other vessels—whether merchant ships or official government galleys—upon seeing that black banner from afar, hastily moved aside to yield the path. They dared not obstruct them. They could only watch with reverence and fear.
A day later, the fleet finally arrived at the eastern port of the Thang Long Imperial Capital.
The port today lacked its usual bustling, clamorous atmosphere. It was strangely silent. Upon the docks were no commoners or merchants.
Instead, there were thousands of soldiers of the Imperial Guard. Their armor gleamed, their blades and swords were drawn, and they had formed an impregnable battle formation, tightly surrounding the entire port.
Leading them was a martial general clad in golden armor, wielding a crescent-moon halberd. His entire being exuded the aura of a peak-stage Foundation Establishment Realm cultivator.
They bore no hostility. They merely stood there in silence, like a fortress wall, blocking the path into the imperial capital.
Tran Kien stood at the prow, surveying the scene before him. He knew this was the stance of the imperial family. Not an enemy, yet not a friend. It was a warning, a probe.
He said nothing. He merely gave a signal.
The largest black ship slowly docked.
Alone, with a single saber, he slowly stepped off the ship.
He faced thousands of soldiers; he faced the golden-armored general. His gaze was perfectly composed.
"This humble one is Tran Kien, Master of Flood Dragon Island," he spoke. His voice, neither haughty nor humble, echoed across the entire port. "Hearing that treasonous rebels are running rampant in the imperial capital, I have specifically led my forces here, requesting to be placed under the command of the Imperial Court to eradicate the traitors of the state."
He did not claim to be a subordinate of Duke Dinh Quoc. He proclaimed himself an independent faction, arriving in the name of "justice." A masterful chess move, kicking the ball of responsibility back toward the Imperial Court.
The golden-armored general narrowed his eyes. He looked at the youth before him, his heart trembling. This majestic bearing, this composure—it was truly not something a young man should possess.
After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice booming.
"His Majesty has issued an edict."
"Summoning Tran Kien, alone, to enter the palace for an audience."