The eastern port of the Thang Long Imperial Capital was submerged in a bizarre, eerie silence. Thousands of curious commoners stood at a distance, holding their breath as they gazed at the spectacle unfolding before them. On one side was a black fleet that had just returned from the vast sea; though the warships bore the scars of ferocious battles, they radiated a terrifying aura of killing intent and ironclad discipline. On the other side stood the most powerful figures of the righteous faction within the imperial court, individuals the commoners could usually only glimpse from afar.
And right in the center stood a youth clad in indigo robes, an ancient saber strapped to his back, walking with slow, measured steps. He was the absolute focal point of it all.
"Little Brother Tran!" Duke Dinh Quoc was the first to step forward. The veteran general made no attempt to conceal the joy and exhilaration burning in his tiger-like eyes. He clapped Tran Kien heavily on the shoulder—a pat carrying the formidable strength of a Golden Core Realm expert, yet it was effortlessly neutralized by the youth. "Excellent! Truly excellent! On this journey, you have undergone a true metamorphosis!"
"The Duke overpraises me," Tran Kien replied with a slight bow. "It was merely a few strokes of fortuitous serendipity."
"It was not mere luck," Tao Chinh stepped up, his perpetually frigid face revealing a rare hint of admiration. "To annihilate an entire lair of the Sacred Dynasty is not something luck alone can accomplish. You have finally earned the qualifications to sit as an equal among us."
They did not waste breath on superfluous words at the port. Under the heavy escort of soldiers, the group swiftly made their way toward the Estate of Duke Dinh Quoc.
Within the grandest assembly hall of the Duke's Estate, the atmosphere was thick and oppressive. All irrelevant personnel had been dismissed. Only the absolute core figures remained: Tran Kien, Uncle Sword, Duke Dinh Quoc, Tao Chinh, Ly Tin, Trinh Cong, and Shangguan Van.
"What is the current situation?" Tran Kien was the first to ask.
"Not good," Tao Chinh replied, his voice dropping low. "The Marquis of Vinh An, upon learning that you annihilated the Sacred City and were on your way back, has completely discarded all pretenses. He has gone entirely mad. Using his entire network, he is simultaneously framing the Duke for colluding with you—a martial world faction of unknown origins—in a plot to rebel. On the other hand, he has secretly gathered all his remaining deathsworn, the most fanatical zealots of the Sacred Dynasty, and barricaded them within his manor. The Marquis's Estate has now been transformed into an impenetrable fortress; nothing goes in, and nothing comes out."
"He is waiting," Duke Dinh Quoc continued. "Waiting for reinforcements from the other Sacred Envoys of the Sacred Dynasty. Or perhaps, he is preparing a final conspiracy, a stratagem of mutual destruction."
"And what of the Emperor?"
"The Emperor..." Tao Chinh let out a bitter laugh. "His Majesty remains as he always is. Unreadable. He has merely ordered the Imperial Guards to secure the palace and forbidden anyone from causing a disturbance. That old fox wants to sit atop the mountain and watch the tigers fight, letting us and the Marquis slaughter one another."
It was an incredibly complex paradigm. The Marquis of Vinh An was like a wounded beast curled up in its den, yet he was the most dangerous beast of all. Meanwhile, the Emperor stood by the sidelines, his stance utterly ambiguous.
Every eye in the hall converged upon Tran Kien, the one who had overturned countless unwinnable chessboards.
Tran Kien remained silent for a long while. He walked over to the map of the capital, his profound eyes seemingly piercing through the streets, gazing straight into the heart of the Marquis's Estate.
"A beast cornered against a wall will never just sit and wait for death," he said. "It is undoubtedly preparing for one final, desperate counter-bite. And that manor is not just a fortress. It is an altar."
"An altar?"
"Indeed," Tran Kien nodded. "If my deductions are correct, the Marquis of Vinh An intends to use his own manor, along with the thousands of lives within it, as a blood sacrifice to summon something far more terrifying than the Sacred Envoy at the Sacred City."
A horrifying conjecture. Yet, it made perfect, chilling sense.
"We can wait no longer," he stated decisively. "We must attack. We must strike tonight, before his ritual can be completed."
"But if we assault the Marquis's Estate, wouldn't that be..."
"This is no longer a political struggle," Tran Kien interrupted. "This is a war of demon eradication. Lord Tao, I must trouble you to deploy the entire force of the Six Gates to blockade the perimeter of the Marquis's Estate, ensuring not even a fly escapes. Simultaneously, prepare the finest evil-warding magical artifacts you possess."
"Duke," he turned to the veteran general. "I ask that you lead the grand army to surround the manor, projecting the greatest possible momentum. But you need not launch an assault. Simply apply overwhelming pressure to ensure they cannot focus on anything else."
"As for the true task," he tightly gripped the Lac Hong Saber. "That shall be left to us."
He looked toward Uncle Sword, Shangguan Van, and Ly Tin. "We will form the most elite strike squad. We do not need many men. We only need the strongest. Our mission is not to breach the defenses, but to act as a dagger thrusting straight into the enemy's heart. The target: the secret chamber of the Marquis of Vinh An!"
An audacious plan. Divided into three layers of assault: political, military, and infiltration. It left the Marquis of Vinh An without a single avenue of survival.
"Excellent!" Duke Dinh Quoc slammed the table and stood up without a shred of hesitation. "We shall do exactly as you say! Tonight, either he dies, or we perish!"
That night, as the veil of darkness descended, the Thang Long Imperial Capital shuddered once more. Tens of thousands of soldiers, their armor gleaming and torches illuminating the heavens, rumbled forth from all directions, tightly encircling the Estate of the Marquis of Vinh An until not a drop of water could leak through. The beating of war drums, this time, echoed right in the very heart of the capital.
And in the shadows, five silhouettes, as swift and agile as hunting panthers, silently followed a secret path, approaching the sturdy walls of the Marquis's Estate.
The final game of chess had finally reached its endgame.