"RETURN THIS REALM TO ME!!!"
That roar did not erupt from Tran Kien's throat. It was the roar of history, the indignation of a millennium of civilization, the bellow of the True Dragon of Dai Viet that had been treacherously bitten in the heart by an alien viper. The billowing Dragon Might was no longer a mere aura; it had materialized into substance, transforming the entire secret chamber into a resplendent golden world.
The Lac Hong Saber in Tran Kien's grasp, in this very moment, was no longer a mere weapon. It had transformed into a dragon's fang, carrying the absolute judgment of an entire nation, cleaving directly into the contorting, emerald-green spatial portal.
The Dharma Body of the Sacred Envoy—the entity that had just exuded the coercive pressure of a demon god—revealed genuine terror for the first time within eyes forged of black qi. It did not fear Tran Kien's power. It feared the pure, tyrannical will standing behind him. It was the will of an entire land, of millions upon millions of souls who had lived, fought, and sacrificed upon this soil.
"NO!!!"
The Sacred Envoy let out one final roar, desperately attempting to retreat into the portal. But it was too late. The saber strike, bearing the might of the dragon, had arrived.
There was no earth-shattering explosion. There was only "Purification." The emerald-green spatial portal, upon contact with the Dragon Might, reacted like an ink painting doused in water. The entirety of its evil energy, resentment, and spatial laws were washed away, dissolving into microscopic motes of light before vanishing. The Dharma Body of the Sacred Envoy, losing its connection to its world, let out a final, agonizing shriek before being incinerated into nothingness by the golden radiance, like a wisp of smoke.
Leaving behind only a final, venomous curse echoing through the void.
"Descendant of Lac Viet... The Sacred Dynasty shall never forget this enmity... You... just wait..."
Once it was all over, the golden dragon aura slowly withdrew, returning to the depths of the earth. The connection between Tran Kien and the Soul of the Dragon Veins was severed. An unprecedented emptiness and exhaustion crashed down upon him. That terrifying power receded, leaving behind a body drained to the absolute limit. Staggering, he coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood and collapsed.
Uncle Sword and the others hurriedly rushed forward to catch him. But at that exact moment, two silhouettes had already manifested at the entrance of the secret chamber. One was the reigning Emperor, clad in worn imperial robes. The other was Grandmaster Phap Chan, his hands still thumbing his prayer beads. They had witnessed the entirety of the final act.
"You did very well," the Emperor said, his voice betraying neither joy nor anger. "But... wielding power capable of stirring the nation's Dragon Veins... Tell me, should I reward you, or should I... kill you?"
The atmosphere in the secret chamber once again tensed to the absolute extreme. Duke Dinh Quoc and Tao Chinh immediately stepped in front of Tran Kien, their eyes brimming with vigilance.
"Your Majesty!" Duke Dinh Quoc spoke in a deep, resonant voice. "Tran Kien bears the merit of saving the sovereign and eradicating national traitors. I implore Your Majesty to see clearly!"
The Emperor did not look at him. The gaze of the Nine-Dragon Sovereign remained fixed solely upon Tran Kien, who was being supported by Uncle Sword. Tran Kien displayed no fear. Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes calmly met the Emperor's.
"Reporting to Your Majesty," he said, his voice somewhat weak yet incredibly clear. "To reward or to kill rests entirely upon Your Majesty's heavenly grace; this commoner dares not object. I merely wish to say one thing."
"The Sacred Dynasty remains. The wounds of the Dragon Veins have yet to heal. Internal strife and external threats are far from quelled. Dai Viet is still caught within a tempest. Killing this commoner alone cannot pacify this storm. Conversely, it will only condemn the Lac Viet legacy to oblivion once more, affording those like the Marquis of Vinh An the opportunity to rise again."
"This commoner asks for no rewards," he stated, enunciating each and every word. "I merely beseech Your Majesty for an opportunity to use this meager strength to continue eradicating evil and protecting the realm."
An answer that was neither haughty nor humble, displaying loyalty while implicitly asserting his irreplaceable value. The Emperor remained silent for a long while. He looked into Tran Kien's limpid eyes, utterly devoid of impure thoughts. He knew this youth was not lying.
"Amitabha," Grandmaster Phap Chan finally chanted a soft Buddhist invocation. "Your Majesty, the Dragon Veins possess a spirit. They have chosen their own inheritor. To follow the Will of Heaven is to follow the will of the people. I implore Your Majesty to act with profound wisdom."
Finally, the Emperor burst into laughter—a laugh laden with profound implications. "Excellent! Truly excellent! Not only do you possess strength and strategy, but you also possess courage and a silver tongue. Were I to kill you, would I not become a tyrant in the eyes of the realm?" He dropped his intimidating facade. With a flick of his sleeves, his voice carried the absolute majesty of a sovereign. "Men, heed My decree!"
An imperial edict was issued right amidst the ashes of the Marquis of Vinh An's Estate, shaking the entire court.
The Marquis of Vinh An, guilty of treason and colluding with the Demonic Path, committed crimes warranting the extermination of nine generations. His entire estate was confiscated and added to the imperial treasury. Duke Dinh Quoc and Tao Chinh, bearing the merit of eradicating national traitors, were rewarded with stipends and granted feudal estates.
And finally, Tran Kien.
"The scholar Tran Kien, bearing the legacy of Lac Viet, holds monumental merit in exposing the traitorous conspiracy and saving the sovereign to protect the nation. He is hereby specially conferred the title 'Marquis of Lac Viet'. He is granted the fiefdom of Fallen Leaf Province, and is permitted to independently raise an army, to be named the 'Lac Viet Guards', to garrison the western lands and protect the source of the Dragon Veins."
A single imperial edict defined an entirely new chessboard. The Emperor not only spared Tran Kien but also bestowed upon him a noble title, a territory, and an army. An incredibly lavish reward. Yet, all the old foxes in the political arena understood perfectly. This was no reward. This was a masterfully executed "exile."
Fallen Leaf Province, Tran Kien's homeland, was the most barren, impoverished land in all of Dai Viet. Granting him that territory was akin to tossing him a meatless bone. Allowing him to raise an army, yet refusing to provide a single copper coin in provisions. It was blatantly clear: the Emperor wanted him to fend for himself in that remote periphery, far removed from the epicenter of power in the capital.
But for Tran Kien, this was the absolute best outcome. He required no glory or wealth in the capital. He needed a place to start anew, a plot of land to sow his own seeds.
After all matters were settled, Tran Kien did not linger in the capital. He went to An Lac Temple to meet Lam Vy one last time. The young girl, having learned of all that transpired, was no longer merely a commandery princess. She had truly matured.
"Big Brother Tran," she said, her eyes red-rimmed but shedding no tears. "You must take care."
"You as well," Tran Kien smiled faintly. "Remain here and cultivate diligently. Wait for me." A promise that needed no words, yet both understood perfectly.
The parting with his comrades also took place in silence. Uncle Sword returned to the Estate of Duke Dinh Quoc. Tao Chinh returned to the chessboards of the Six Gates. Shangguan Van resumed his Path of the Sword. They knew this was not an ending, but a new beginning.
One month later, at Fallen Leaf Town—a land of barrenness and poverty.
A youthful silhouette, followed by the mighty war fleet of the Vô Sect and Flood Dragon Island, had returned. The townsfolk stared in awe at the formidable army, and then at the young "Marquis of Lac Viet." They could hardly believe that the scrawny, orphaned boy, Tran Kien of yesteryear, had now returned with such an exalted status.
Tran Kien stood atop a barren hill, gazing down at his homeland. His eyes held no smugness; there was only a sense of melancholy and an iron-clad determination.
"The ancestors have gifted me a legacy," he murmured, his hand tightly clutching the Seed of Legacy. "Then today, right here at the very source, I shall use this legacy to sow a seed."
"The seed of a new era."