I Can Create Clones

The morning sun cast long shadows across the estate's garden where Marcus Drake hung suspended in ethereal chains that pulsed with divine authority. His Middle Supreme cultivation, once a source of pride and power, now felt pathetically inadequate against restraints that seemed to draw strength from the very fabric of reality itself.

Lysander stood before his captive uncle, his transformed features showing none of the mercy that might once have existed between family members. Years of exile and careful planning had burned away any sentiment, leaving only cold determination to extract every secret Marcus had spent decades accumulating.

"Let's begin with something simple," Lysander said, his altered voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "The corruption network you built to fund Aurelius's succession bid. I want names, methods, and the exact scope of your operations."

Marcus's lips remained sealed, his Supreme Elder pride warring with the growing realization that resistance might be futile. The mysterious figure who commanded the Celestial Binding Chains stood nearby, their spiritual pressure carefully suppressed but radiating the kind of patient confidence that suggested infinite time and resources.

"Stubborn," the figure observed with clinical detachment. "Though I suppose that's to be expected from someone who orchestrated family betrayals for political gain."

The chains tightened slightly, their divine authority pressing against Marcus's spiritual core with increasing pressure. Not enough to cause permanent damage, but sufficient to remind him that his continued existence depended entirely on their forbearance.

"The techniques you've taught Lysander," Marcus gasped, trying to buy time while his mind searched for any possible escape. "Dragon's Wrath methods that were lost centuries ago. Where did you acquire such knowledge?"

"You're asking the wrong questions," Lysander replied, his amber eyes reflecting cold amusement. "You should be wondering how long I've been planning this moment, and what else I've discovered during my years of supposed death."

The interrogation began in earnest as Lysander demonstrated knowledge that made Marcus's blood run cold. Names of conspirators, details of transactions, even private conversations that should have been known only to the highest levels of the corruption network—all of it laid out with precision that spoke of extensive intelligence gathering over years of careful observation.

"Elder Cassius provided the initial funding through diverted family resources," Lysander stated matter-of-factly. "You laundered the spirit stones through the merchant network controlled by the Goldweave family's subsidiary operations. The profits were then channeled back to support Aurelius's political positioning within the succession competition."

Marcus's eyes widened in shock. Those details were known only to three people in the entire conspiracy, and two of them were dead.

"Impossible," he whispered. "That information—"

"Was carefully documented by someone who understood the value of insurance," Lysander interrupted. "Did you really think such an elaborate scheme could operate without leaving traces for those who knew how to look?"

The mysterious figure stepped forward, their presence somehow making the morning air feel heavier despite their carefully controlled aura. "Elder Marcus, you're wasting time with denials. We already possess comprehensive evidence of your activities. This interrogation is to fill in gaps, not establish guilt."

To demonstrate their point, they produced a crystalline formation that blazed with stored memories—spiritual recordings that captured conversations, meetings, and transactions in perfect detail. Marcus recognized several of the scenes immediately, discussions he'd believed were conducted in absolute privacy.

"Five years of intelligence gathering," the figure explained with academic interest. "Every meeting, every transaction, every decision that led to your nephew's attempted murder. All carefully preserved for this exact moment."

The recordings played out with devastating clarity. Marcus's own voice discussing the need to eliminate Lysander before he could threaten Aurelius's position. Detailed plans for the "training accident" that would look natural while ensuring permanent damage. Even his cold satisfaction when the plan succeeded and his nephew collapsed with spiritual injuries that should have been fatal.

"You see," Lysander said quietly as his uncle watched his own recorded betrayal, "I didn't just survive your attempt to destroy me. I learned from it. Every technique you used, every justification you offered, every alliance you thought would protect you—all of it became part of my education in how power really works."

The weight of revelation pressed down on Marcus like a physical force. Not only had Lysander survived and recovered, but he'd spent five years systematically unraveling the conspiracy that had nearly killed him. This wasn't revenge—it was the culmination of a masterpiece of strategic planning.

"The scope of your knowledge," Marcus said slowly, his mind grappling with implications that grew more terrifying with each detail. "You couldn't have gathered this alone. Who else is involved in this operation?"

Lysander's smile was sharp as a blade. "Uncle, you're still thinking too small. You assume this is about revenge for past wrongs, but you've never considered what I've become during those years of supposed death."

The chains pulsed with increased power, and Marcus felt his spiritual defenses beginning to crack under sustained pressure. But it wasn't the physical restraint that broke his resistance—it was the growing certainty that he was facing forces that operated on levels he'd never suspected existed.

"The Thornfield branch family's mining operations," the mysterious figure continued the interrogation with relentless precision. "You diverted thirty percent of their rare mineral production to fund private cultivation resources for Aurelius's supporters. But the minerals weren't just sold—they were processed using techniques that enhanced their spiritual properties beyond normal market value."

Marcus's mouth fell open in shock. That detail was known only to himself and the processing facility's master alchemist, a man who had died in what appeared to be a cultivation accident two years prior.

"How could you possibly—"

"Knowledge has many sources," the figure replied, echoing Lysander's earlier deflection. "Some comes from careful observation, some from strategic intelligence gathering, some from resources you've never imagined possible."

The interrogation continued with methodical thoroughness as layer after layer of conspiracy was exposed. The corruption network was far more extensive than Marcus had realized, touching families and operations across multiple regions. Aurelius's faction had grown into a shadow organization within the Drake family, using embezzled resources to build power that rivaled the legitimate leadership structure.

But most terrifying of all was the growing realization that his captors possessed knowledge that went far beyond simple intelligence gathering. They understood cultivation mechanics he'd never heard of, wielded artifacts that shouldn't exist, and demonstrated strategic capabilities that suggested preparation on a scale that defied conventional understanding.

"The academy connections," Lysander said, revealing another layer of the conspiracy. "Aurelius has been placing his supporters in key positions within Celestial Harmony Academy's administrative structure. The goal was to influence the next generation of major family heirs, creating a network of allies who would support Drake family interests—specifically his interests—throughout the continent."

Marcus's resistance crumbled entirely as he realized the true scope of what they knew. Every secret, every hidden alliance, every long-term plan that he'd thought was safely concealed—all of it laid bare with clinical precision.

"Who are you really?" he asked the mysterious figure, desperation finally breaking through his Supreme Elder composure. "This level of intelligence, these artifacts, the coordination required for this operation—it's beyond anything I've ever encountered."

The figure's response was chillingly simple. "I'm someone who's been watching your family's politics for a very long time, Elder Marcus. Someone who understood that corruption like yours eventually creates its own weaknesses, and that patient preparation can turn those weaknesses into opportunities."

As the interrogation reached its climax, Marcus began to understand the true horror of his situation. He wasn't just facing Lysander's personal revenge—he was confronting an organization that had been studying the Drake family's internal politics with scientific thoroughness, waiting for the perfect moment to act.

The nephew he'd tried to destroy had become part of something far more dangerous than personal vengeance. The corruption network he'd built to secure Aurelius's succession had instead created vulnerabilities that more sophisticated enemies had exploited with devastating effectiveness.

And now, suspended in chains that made escape impossible, Marcus Drake began to realize that his years of careful political maneuvering had led him directly into the hands of forces that operated by rules he'd never learned to understand.

The complete scope of his conspiracy lay exposed, every secret revealed, every ally compromised. All that remained was to discover what these mysterious enemies intended to do with the intelligence they'd extracted.

But judging from the cold satisfaction in Lysander's transformed eyes, Marcus suspected he wouldn't survive to see how his revelations would be used against the family he'd thought he was protecting.

The interrogation was complete, and the final phase of his destruction was about to begin.