Kage Family manor, in the parlor.
Asasiya sipped tea, steam spiraling like mist over a cold lake, and waited for good news from Young Master Intela.
Then—
“Patriarch, disaster! Disaster!” A young servant burst in like a startled sparrow, footsteps drumming like rain on tiles.
“Can’t you see we have guests?” Asasiya’s brows knotted like tight cords; his voice cracked like ice. “No greeting, and flustered like a headless chicken?”
“Forgive me, Patriarch, but it’s grave—truly grave.” The servant bowed low, voice trembling like a reed in wind.
“What is it?” Asasiya kept his tone easy, tea wavering like a lotus leaf in ripples.
“Uh, that…” The servant darted a glance like a thief at night, then said, “The Mage Corps led by Young Master Intela was wiped out.”
Pfft— Asasiya sprayed tea like a burst dam. “Wiped out? Don’t tell me—”
“Yes. Including Young Master Intela, the entire Corps was killed,” the servant said, each word falling like stones.
“What!” Asasiya shot to his feet with a whoosh, his face blanching like winter snow. “You mean that man resisted them, then killed them?”
“Yes. Especially Young Master Intela. Rumor says the enemy shattered his limbs, then finished him.” The servant’s nod was heavy as thunderheads.
“How… how could this be…” Asasiya sagged back into his chair, spine folding like a broken bow; age fell on him like dust. If it were anyone else, death would pass like a cold wind.
But it was Intela. Rage roared like wildfire, yet regret gnawed like frost. Intela wasn’t just the son of Kage Family’s Grand Elder Jiafa; he was their brightest star, a talent like a comet across night.
At eighteen, he’d reached SS-rank Magister, a blazing torch in the Eastern Moon Empire’s dark. He was the one most likely to touch the Sacred Realm before thirty, a bud ready to bloom.
And now that genius was dead—sent to die by his own hand. The thought cut Asasiya’s heart like a whetted blade.
“Ahhhh! Asasiya, you bastard! You killed Intela!” A burly middle-aged man strode in like a stormfront, aura pounding like waves; rage burned across his face like a noon sun. He seized Asasiya’s collar and glared, voice held tight like a drawn bow. “Asasiya, what do you have to say?!”
This was Intela’s father, the Kage Family’s Grand Elder—Jiafa In Kage.
“I never thought it would end like this…” Asasiya forced a bitter smile, thin as paper, then laid out the chain of events like stones along a path.
“Who has such gall?” Jiafa’s words struck like hammers. “Offend the Dark Magic Guild, injure our Kage Family, and—worst of all—dare to kill my son?”
He released Asasiya and turned toward Aisha, who sat daintily with cake, crumbs dusting her fingers like snow. He frowned, lines cutting like knife marks. “Miss Aisha, do you know something?”
“No. I’m not clear on the details,” Aisha said as she stood, patting crumbs away like drifting petals. “I only know the Vice Guildmaster invited them to Dark Demon as guests. They refused, and they injured Lord Shadow and Lord Soulrend instead.”
“Is that true?” Jiafa’s gaze slid to Traufa and Traus beside her, his Holy Peak aura rolling out like a tide under a blood moon.
“Grand Elder Jiafa, that’s the truth.” Traufa and Traus endured the crushing weight like trees in a gale, and managed to speak.
“Oh? Then why doesn’t the Dark Magic Guild reclaim its own face?” Jiafa’s aura swelled again, relentless as a rising flood. “Why come to join hands with our Kage Family? Aren’t you the world’s second-greatest power?”
“Because the enemy has a Holy Peak powerhouse at his side—” Aisha’s breath hitched like a bird in a snare; she chose not to hide it now. “And it’s a Holy Peak dragon.”
“What!” Jiafa’s aura spiked, spears of pressure like ice shards. “A Holy Peak dragon? Are you trying to make the Kage Family cannon fodder?”
In this world, the Dragon Kin stand shoulder to shoulder with the Divine Kin, the Demon Kin, and the Elven Kind—mountains among hills. Humans aren’t even in the same valley.
A Holy Peak dragon—Jiafa himself, a Holy Peak expert, might break through to the Divine Realm and still fail to match it. That truth hung like a sword.
The Dragon Kin are horrors in hide and claw. Their scales rival divine artifacts, their talons carve the air like glass. And then there’s their gift—Dragon Tongue magic.
Dragon Tongue magic: the Dragon Kin’s inborn art, law-laced might like thunder in a bottle. Even the Divine Kin give it a wide berth; how much less the frail human race?
So when Jiafa heard there was a Holy Peak dragon at the enemy’s side, his anger flared brighter, a forest fire in dry season. They knew a dragon stood there, yet came seeking alliance—clearly hoping Kage would bleed first.
“No. This time, Dark Demon will dispatch ten Sacred Realm powerhouses,” Aisha said, biting her lip till blood blossomed like a plum. “And the Vice Guildmaster will act himself.”
“Oh? Is that so?” Jiafa’s aura finally folded back, clouds parting to a cold sky.
“Yes. So please, Grand Elder Jiafa, join hands with Dark Demon and seize that youth,” Aisha said, meeting his eyes like steel. “With so many Sacred Realm powerhouses, even if we can’t kill the Holy Peak dragon, we can defeat it.”
When the Holy Peak pressure ebbed, Aisha and the brothers Traufa and Traus exhaled as one, breath spilling like wind from a tight gorge.
“But we’ll offend the Dragon Kin,” Jiafa said, desire and dread wrestling like fire and water. Intela’s blood called for vengeance, yet the Dragon Kin are famous for guarding their own like wolves.
Kill one dragon, and the Dragon Kin wipe out your clan—those words hang over the world like a vulture’s shadow.
“It’s fine.” Aisha shook her head, calm like still water. “Dark Demon will take full responsibility. The Kage Family only needs to assist.”
“In that case—very well.” Jiafa weighed gains and losses like stones in his palm, then nodded, decision falling like a judge’s mallet.
But then—
“Hold.” A voice rolled in from the hall like thunder over a plain. “Will you truly do this? Will you truly make an enemy of a Holy Peak dragon?”
The voice carried imperial majesty, a crown’s weight in every syllable, and it stilled the room like frost.
