Soulbound: Dual Cultivation

The King sat rigidly on his throne, his knuckles tightening on the carved arms of the seat as his eyes bore into the kneeling figure before him. His voice, though calm, carried a weight that silenced every corner of the chamber.

"You will answer truthfully," the King said, each word measured and cold. "Was the poisoning of my son part of your schemes?"

The crippled grandmaster lowered his head, shame flickering across his weathered face. "Yes, Your Majesty," he replied. His voice was hoarse from fear and from the weight of what he was about to confess. "It was one of the objectives. I did not know who carried out the task directly, I was not given names. But... I received the same scroll as the others involved. The instructions were clear."

The King's jaw clenched. "What did it say?"

The man took a breath. "It detailed a strategy designed to provoke conflict. To create chaos. The order was to eliminate the Crown Prince silently and leave behind traces, signs pointing to Blackmare. The plan was never to strike openly, but to push your court into believing it was their doing. The goal was to pit Valerion against Blackmare, provoke retaliation, disrupt diplomacy, and amplify the rivalry through mistrust and bloodshed."

He paused, daring a glance upward. "And in that confusion... they would embed themselves deeperand unnoticed. The political unrest would distract you, Your Majesty. It would pull your resources, your generals, your court's attention... while they gained access to the very heart of the kingdom."

Silence fell, thick and suffocating.

The King leaned back slowly, his expression unreadable, but his thoughts were racing. War with Blackmare, one of their fiercest neighbors, would've drawn every sword from its sheath, more trade routes would collapse, nobles would pick sides. Valerion would be at its weakest not because of a single enemy, but because of division within. They would have destroyed themselves.

Henrietta stood quietly beside the throne, her eyes never leaving the man on his knees. She could sense it again, he was telling the truth.

The King's gaze dropped to the crippled grandmaster again. "So you were willing to help orchestrate a war... for what? The promise of reaching Ascendant Rank?"

The man bowed his head again, but his voice was firm. "After a century of being stagnant... of hitting a wall no elixir or breakthrough could surpass... yes. That promise was enough. For men like me, who gave everything to rise, only to find the heavens shut above us, it was more than tempting. It was salvation."

The King didn't answer. He sat in deep, simmering silence. Every word that had just been spoken added another piece to the puzzle, a puzzle that no longer pointed to treachery alone, but to a far more dangerous, far-reaching enemy. An enemy that knew how to stay hidden... and how to make kingdoms destroy themselves from the inside.

And though he didn't show it, the King's heart was heavy with the weight of it.

They had barely scratched the surface.

The King's eyes narrowed, the silence in the chamber now almost deafening. His voice dropped, laced with the fire of a father and a ruler betrayed.

"The beast attack on our borders?" he asked, every word heavy with meaning. "That part of your plot as well."

The crippled grandmaster did not look up immediately. His shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitateout of fear, as if weighing how much more he was willing to lose. Then slowly, he nodded.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he said. "The beast incursion was no accident. It was a coordinated effort. Our operatives manipulated the flow of corrupted Qi near the southern forests and used the scent of the beasts life crystal to agitate the creatures into a frenzy. Once unleashed, they drove the beasts directly toward your wall."

The King's fists clenched on the arms of his throne, but he did not interrupt.

"The aim," the man continued, "was not destruction alone. It was symbolic. The chaos would arrive just after the prince's poisoning. It would feed the narrative, make it look like Blackmare was not just behind an assassination, but capable of unleashing dark, forbidden means of attack. With the right signs left behind, the right planted evidence... you would have little choice but to respond. War would feel justified."

The chamber grew colder, as if the walls themselves were recoiling from the truth. The King sat unmoving, his face like carved stone, though the veins on his temple told of the storm brewing within.

"And you were fine with that?" he asked quietly. "Sacrificing our people? Innocent lives? Letting beasts loose on your own countrymen?"

The grandmaster's head dropped lower, and his voice lost whatever edge it once had.

Henrietta's lips were pressed into a grim line, her eyes flickering toward the King. Lucas, standing behind them, watched silently. The threads of the conspiracy were becoming clearer, and with every revelation, he could see that this was not merely about poisoning or framing, it was about collapsing the very foundation of Valerion.

The King, after a long and bitter pause, let out a slow breath, as though exhaling the weight of a thousand doubts. He no longer wondered if the threat was real. Now, he knew it had already begun.

He leaned back again in his throne, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as the weight of it all pressed down upon him like a mountain. His gaze, once sharp and probing, turned distant, as though trying to pierce through the veil of shadows that now clouded every corner of his court. He did not speak for a long while, and the silence that stretched across the grand hall became heavy, almost suffocating.

He did not want to believe it. His pride, his sense of control, his long years of reigning over a kingdom that had always stood stronger than the rest, it all resisted the notion that such a vast conspiracy could thrive right beneath his nose, invisible and untraceable. But the more he thought about it, the more the pieces began to align, even if they were jagged and incomplete. This crippled grandmaster had nothing left to gain from lies. Henrietta had confirmed his truth with her gifts. And yet, the man could not name even a single conspirator. Not a name, not a face....nothing.

That was what troubled him most.

He exhaled slowly, almost imperceptibly, the gesture betraying the turmoil within. He knew now what this truly meant. They hadn't made progress, they had merely found a thread dangling from a cloak woven in darkness. A single thread, and the moment they pulled, they had no idea what might come unraveled. Or who might be holding the other end.

He looked toward Henrietta briefly. If there was anyone he could still trust, it was her. She had proven herself over and over, her loyalty as unshakable as the mountains that crowned the edges of the realm. And Lucas, he was still a mystery, but one the King found himself slowly leaning toward. Whatever miracle he had worked to stir life back into a crippled cultivation, it was nothing short of impossible. That kind of power, paired with a mind as composed as his, was not something the King would ignore.

And so, he drew a silent conclusion, he could trust only them now, only those two.