Robert nodded silently. Reviving Ya'er was of utmost importance, yet his greater fear lay in his father's safety. With a resentful sigh, he muttered, "That old fossil Michel is truly heartless—sending a wounded man into peril… Father, could you not feign a grave injury and refuse to go? No matter how unreasonable Michel may be, he wouldn't dare force you onto a stretcher and drag you into the Xingluo Mountains."
Luo Xiong shook his head. "A military order is as immovable as a mountain, my son. Once you have joined the army, you will understand why I cannot defy it." As he spoke, he drew several tokens from his belt and handed them to Robert. "I can do little else for you. Once I depart, you shall act as regent of Moonwatch City. With these tokens, wield your authority boldly—demand crystals from Donald, let Ya'er absorb the energy she needs. Do not fear the consequences; so long as I live, I shall shield you."
Seeing the sorrow shadowing his son's face, Luo Xiong chuckled softly. Inwardly, he mused: The boy is still young, his vision shackled by inexperience. He does not see the whole picture. For truthfully, Luo Xiong's return to the Xingluo Mountains was driven only half by the reason he had voiced. The other half was born of a gnawing dread.
Ya'er's secret could never fall into the hands of outsiders. When one thought it through carefully, who might uncover the truth? The elusive prophetess Yalan, certainly. And then there was Thunderbolt—the one who once tracked to the Lord's Mansion and had surely sensed Ya'er's existence. Unless Luo Xiong personally guided the Church's champions into the mountains, unless he saw with his own eyes that they had not wrested Ya'er's secret from Thunderbolt, his heart would never rest.
From what he knew of the Yalan Sect, Luo Xiong was all too aware: should Ya'er's existence be exposed, his son would face condemnation as a heretic and a sentence of beheading. Such fears he kept hidden from Robert. His body was still hale and strong; why burden his son so soon with such crushing responsibilities?
After parting from Robert, Luo Xiong went straight to the barracks beyond the city walls. He rallied the troops, and with the Church's elite at his side, marched through the night. Joined by tens of thousands drawn from nearby cities, their grand host pressed onward beneath the cloak of darkness, surging into the mountains where Thunderbolt lay concealed.
Robert, meanwhile, returned to the Lord's Mansion without seeking rest. He summoned the household guards, tapped into the family's wealth, and commanded a secret hunt for relics infused with divine power—anything that could be brought swiftly and discreetly back to the mansion. Though the results would take days to manifest, Robert resolved to fix his eyes on the Academy's No. 2 and No. 3 crystals. After all, their strength was enough to awaken Ya'er for ten precious minutes.
As he pondered how to wrest the crystals from Donald's miserly grip, Moonwatch's chief civil officer arrived bearing a dossier. "Young master, this is the latest registry of fugitives. Without your seal, we cannot issue it to the guards stationed at the gates."
Robert accepted it with a languid air. Such wanted lists came down from the capital often enough, and city officials merely passed them along. Of all the city lord's duties, this was the most mundane—and the one Robert most loathed. Yet as acting lord, he could not shirk it.
With a careless stamp of his seal, he glanced idly through the names. The first few were notorious figures, all too familiar. But at the ninth entry, Robert paused in mild surprise.
"Julius… female, nineteen years of age. Hah! Such an odd, ungraceful name for one so young."
Amused, his curiosity stirred, Robert read on. Yet the entry was frustratingly sparse: a girl of nineteen, cruel and merciless in her methods, cunning and elusive, exceedingly difficult to apprehend. And nothing more—not even a likeness to identify her by.
The Robert of old—heedless scion and reckless rake—would have pursued this mystery with eager fascination. But since Ya'er, his interest in other women had waned. After a brief perusal of Julius's file, he tossed the registry back to the officer with instructions to see it distributed.
Handling a few more trifling affairs, Robert then prepared to approach Donald for the crystals. He ordered his carriage readied, but upon arriving at the Academy gates, he was intercepted by two faculty members. Without preamble, they drew him straight into the training hall.
The vast chamber was lined with tomes on divine power and teaching implements. Donald and more than a dozen venerable professors stood in solemn array. The moment Robert entered, they encircled him, their gazes so intent he shifted uneasily.
Donald smiled faintly. "Robert, enough talk. From this moment, your private training begins."
Michel had granted them only three months—a span too brief to waste even a breath. Were it not for the time needed to craft a proper curriculum, Donald would have dragged him in that very afternoon.
Robert gave a wry laugh. "Uncle, so this is about lessons after all. But it's already dusk; surely the training can wait until morning?"
Donald, unwilling to reveal Michel's iron decree, replied vaguely, "Your course will differ from the norm. From today, you must study without pause, day and night. The burden will be great, but you must endure it. Now—let us begin."
He proceeded to introduce each elder's role: some would hone Robert's combat forms, others his theoretical knowledge, others his practical skills—and one even oversaw his specialized diet.
Once Robert had committed their faces and duties to memory, Donald spoke again. "Nephew, Michel's assessment revealed not only your awakened talent, but a far greater blessing. Within you already stirs a fragment of the Celestial Sound's divine power. Tonight, I shall help you draw it forth."
Robert started. That he bore a measure of divine energy was no surprise—Ya'er had already hinted at as much. But a sudden thought struck him: could his own power sustain Ya'er? Could the energy she absorbed be shared between them? Her slumber had fallen so abruptly, leaving too many questions unanswered.
"Robert!"
Donald's voice shattered his reverie. Placing both palms firmly beneath Robert's jaw, he said gravely, "The Celestial Sound's gift of Yalan strikes with unseen force, defending with voices sharp as blades. Of all divine attributes, it is among the most formidable. To master sound, one must first master throat and tongue. Focus all your will upon the root of your tongue—and obey my command."
Robert straightened, gathering his spirit, and did as he was told. At once, the surrounding elders pressed their hands upon his joints. With Donald's sharp cry, streams of searing warmth surged into Robert's body.
"The awakening of your hidden power will be agonizing," Donald warned. "But you must endure."