The secret chamber of the Marquis of Vinh An's Estate was immersed in a deathly silence. The pungent stench of sulfur and resentment from the shattered altar lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of decay emanating from the desiccated husk of the man who had once been a paramount official capable of overturning the imperial court. The cold wind blowing in through the smashed door caused the remaining candles to flicker and dance, casting writhing, eerie shadows upon the walls.
Tao Chinh stood frozen in place, his hand gripping his saber so tightly his knuckles turned white. As the head of the Six-Feathered Gate, he had faced countless heretical demons and earth-shattering conspiracies. Yet, never before had he felt such profound helplessness and a chilling dread race down his spine.
Their enemy was not a mere mortal. Their enemy was a phantom of history, an existence that had lived for a millennium, treating the entirety of Dai Viet's lands and rivers as a chessboard and powerful officials like Vinh An as mere sacrificial pawns. Most terrifying of all, that entity had forcibly extracted a portion of the capital's Dragon Veins right before his eyes. This was no longer the power of cultivators; this was the legendary, heaven-shaking, ghost-weeping divine abilities of ancient lore.
"Lord..." Black Crow stepped forward, his voice trembling slightly. "We..."
Tao Chinh said nothing. He simply raised a hand, signaling for silence. His eagle-like eyes swept across the secret chamber, missing not a single detail. The husk of Vinh An, the shattered altar, and the direction in which the black dragon had vanished. He was trying to memorize and analyze everything, even knowing that any analysis at this moment seemed utterly futile.
At that moment, Duke Dinh Quoc, having quelled all resistance outside, strode in, followed by Shangguan Van. "Tao Chinh! Where is the traitor Vinh An?!" the veteran general roared, his killing intent still blazing.
But upon seeing the scene within, his roar died in his throat. He stared in shock at the desiccated corpse of Vinh An, then at Tao Chinh, his tiger-eyes filled with bewilderment.
Tao Chinh needed no words to explain. He merely pointed silently at the shattered altar. Duke Dinh Quoc was a martial general, unversed in such dark arts, but he could sense the lingering evil aura. He knew that this matter had far exceeded the boundaries of an ordinary struggle for power.
Suddenly, a silhouette materialized at the chamber's entrance without a sound. The person wore simple scholarly robes, yet exuded an aura as profound and steady as the deep ocean. The wind from outside buffeted his clothes, making them flutter violently, but his frame remained completely immovable.
It was Tran Kien. He required no one to deliver a report. The exact moment that black dragon was torn from the earth, he—the inheritor of the dragon's heart—had sensed it. He felt the Dragon Veins of Thang Long groaning, crying out in agony like a mother whose child had been violently ripped from her arms.
He said nothing. He walked straight inside, stopping beside the altar. He looked at no one. He simply bent down, picked up a fragment of the altar, and placed it in his palm. He closed his eyes.
Within his Sea of Consciousness, another world unfolded. He saw the flow of the Dragon Veins beneath the capital. It was no longer a majestic, shimmering golden dragon. At its very core, a colossal, pitch-black wound had appeared. It resembled a malignant tumor, incessantly emitting an evil aura that defiled the surrounding veins.
"The Wound of the Dragon Veins..." he murmured, his voice carrying a sorrow that was not entirely his own. "Sacred Dynasty..."
He combined what he knew—what he had comprehended from the memories of the Evil Spirit at the Seven Mountains—with what had just transpired, and briefly recounted it to the two pillars of the imperial court. As they listened, the complexions of Duke Dinh Quoc and Tao Chinh turned ashen.
A conspiracy spanning a millennium. Vinh An was merely a puppet. Their true objective was the entirety of Dai Viet's Dragon Veins. Every detail struck like a sledgehammer against their understanding of the world.
"Then... what must we do now?" For the first time in his life, Duke Dinh Quoc, the veteran general who had never known fear, betrayed a hint of panic in his voice. "Facing such a phantom... what can we possibly do?"
Tao Chinh also fell silent. Though his intellect surpassed ordinary men, against an enemy with no known form and no known lair, all stratagems became useless.
Only Tran Kien remained calm. He opened his eyes. The sorrow had vanished, replaced by an unshakable, iron-clad will.
"They are not invincible," he stated. "Though powerful, they possess a fatal flaw."
"What is it?"
"They fear the light," Tran Kien replied. "They are phantoms of the past. They can only operate in the shadows, pulling strings through conspiracies. Once dragged into the light, they will no longer be terrifying."
"My strategy now," he looked at the two men. "Is not defense. It is a proactive assault."
"Assault? We do not even know where they are!"
"I know," Tran Kien said, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes. "That black dragon has flown away, but it is a fragment of the Dragon Veins. I am the inheritor of the dragon's heart. I can sense its direction. It is heading south, toward the vast sea. That place is their true lair... the Sacred City."
He no longer referred to himself as Ve Nhan. He stood on equal footing with them.
"I must trouble you two Lords to handle the matters in the capital," he said. "Stabilize the court and eradicate the remaining wings of Marquis Vinh An. I need you to forge an unshakeable rear guard for me."
"As for me," he tightly gripped the Lac Hong Saber at his waist. "I am going dragon hunting."
His words were not a suggestion. They were a declaration. He was no longer a chess piece on someone else's board. He had set out a new chessboard of his own. A game where he would be the hunter, and the prey was a demonic dynasty that had existed for a millennium.
Duke Dinh Quoc and Tao Chinh looked at the youth before them, at the unconcealable confidence and majestic bearing within his eyes. In their hearts, a hope that had nearly died was rekindled.
The imperial capital was left behind. Before him lay the vast lands of Dai Viet, and a hunt that would span a thousand years of history.