The journey back was no longer a stealthy escape. The black fleet, led by the flagship Lac Hong, openly and righteously hoisted the black banners bearing the character "VO" (Formless) and cleaved through the waves toward the north. The fleet's speed was far greater than their outbound journey. Tran Kien, now at the late-stage of the Golden Core Realm, could preliminarily control a portion of Heaven and Earth's spiritual qi. He used his sheer will to summon the winds and guide the ocean currents, turning the very sea into an ally, propelling the ships at an unimaginable speed.
Meanwhile, news of the earth-shattering battle in the Black Water Ghost Domain, despite the parties' efforts to conceal it, spread toward the mainland like an unstoppable tempest. Initially, it was just vague rumors from fishermen who claimed to have seen "divine dragons battling" in the distant sea.
But then, as the merchant ships of the Three Rivers Merchant Guild—an ally of Flood Dragon Island—began receiving more accurate reports through Old Whale's intelligence network, the story gradually became clear.
An ancient demonic faction known as the "Sacred City" had been completely annihilated by a mysterious fleet flying the "VO" banner! Their lair, an eerie island, had been sunk to the bottom of the sea! This news, upon reaching the City of Chaos, caused an indescribable shock. The Vô Sect! The Vô Sect again! Just how terrifying was the true strength hidden by this faction that had recently unified the City of Chaos?
And when this news, via the intelligence network of the Six Gates, finally reached the Thang Long Imperial Capital, it exploded like a veritable bomb upon the already suffocatingly tense political chessboard.
At the Estate of Duke Dinh Quoc.
"Good! Excellent!" Duke Dinh Quoc slammed his fist onto the table, the veteran general's heroic laughter shaking the entire study. "I knew it! That boy is no fish in a pond! He is a true dragon! Annihilating a lair of the Sacred Dynasty—this is not just a victory; this is a heavy blow to the very roots of those national traitors!"
Tao Chinh, sitting opposite him, wore a cold expression devoid of much emotion, yet a bizarre light flickered in his falcon-like eyes. He did not rejoice in the victory. He was calculating. The Vô Sect, or Tran Kien, had become an overly terrifying force, a chess piece that had transcended anyone's control. Would his return this time bring fortune or disaster to the capital?
At An Lac Temple, deep within the imperial palace.
Lam Vy, after hearing the news from Uncle Sword, could not hold back her tears. But these were not tears of weakness; they were tears of joy and pride. "Big Brother Tran... I knew you would do it."
And in the deepest, most majestic sanctum, upon the Nine-Dragon Throne.
The reigning Emperor listened in silence as Grandmaster Phap Chan reported everything. He said nothing, only looking at the spiritual energy black dragon in the secret chamber that was slowly weakening—the consequence of the damaged Dragon Vein. After a long while, he let out a soft sigh. "We raised a tiger, only to have a dragon fly in from the outside to clean up the mess. How laughable."
"Transmit Our decree," he said, his voice betraying neither joy nor anger. "The entire naval force at the mouth of the Hong River is to withdraw. They are not permitted to obstruct him. We also wish to see what kind of storm this dragon, returning from the great sea, can stir up in the capital."
The tempest had truly risen.
Ten days later, the black fleet reached the mouth of the Hong River. They met absolutely no resistance. Marquis Vinh An's naval forces had received the news early and retreated in terror, leaving not a single shadow behind. Openly and righteously, with the black "VO" banners flying high, the fleet sailed up the Hong River, advancing toward the heart of Dai Viet. Along the way, the people on both banks poured out to watch as the mighty fleet glided silently past without committing a single act of pillaging. They didn't know who these people were, but they felt a majestic, righteous aura unlike any army they had ever seen. The news of the Vô Sect's fleet approaching the capital traveled even faster than the ships themselves.
When the moss-covered, ancient walls of Thang Long appeared in the distance, Tran Kien stood at the prow of the flagship, the Lac Hong Saber in hand. He was no longer a nameless youth. He was the Exalted Lord of the Vô Sect, the New King of Flood Dragon Island, and the sole inheritor of the Lac Viet legacy. And today, he returned, not as a sacrificial pawn. He returned as a grandmaster of the game. A player arriving to clean up the entire chessboard.
As his fleet reached the eastern port, a grand scene awaited them. It was not the Imperial Guards. It was Duke Dinh Quoc, Tao Chinh, Shangguan Van, and all the leaders of the factions supporting the righteous cause, who had personally come to the port to welcome him. This was a recognition. A public declaration to the entire capital. Tran Kien was no longer alone.
He slowly stepped off the ship. The east wind blew fiercely, making his robes flutter violently. He did not look at those welcoming him. He looked toward the distant Manor of the Marquis of Vinh An, and then toward the depths of the imperial palace.
"I have returned," he said, his voice not loud, but enough to drown out the crashing waves. "The chessboard in the capital... it is time to clear the board."