Countless streams of sound surged forth within the training hall, striking ceiling and walls alike with relentless force. The thunderous roar echoed unceasingly, and in the blink of an eye the entire chamber collapsed into ruins.
Donald made no move to intervene. Rocking his head in smug delight, he thought, "With Luo Xiong dead, Robert will naturally inherit his father's title and claim Moonwatch City. From this day forth, Robert shall be its lord. Heh, having a city lord as my pupil—my authority in Moonwatch will rise with the tide!"
Michel, too, refrained from stopping Robert. Instead, he raised a hand to support the falling beams and cast Robert an approving glance. Inwardly, he mused, "Excellent—my judgment was not mistaken. Robert advances with astonishing speed… yes, he has stepped yet closer to that plan."
The two seemed to have forgotten the fresh tragedy of Luo Xiong's death, each preoccupied with his own designs.
"Master Michel, Dean Donald, I must see to the funeral rites."
After his wail of grief, Robert seemed transformed. Wordlessly clutching his father's relics, he let falling bricks and rubble strike his body, dragging his stiff frame from the ruins of the hall.
Michel bestowed Donald a look of commendation and nodded. "From the force of Robert's soundwave that shattered the chamber, he stands not far from the third rank of Guardian. Donald, his achievements owe much to your guidance."
Donald's wizened face folded into creases with his smile. "It was thanks to your lordship's guidance, otherwise I might never have discovered that Robert was blessed at birth."
"Hmph. Credit that is yours remains yours. But mark me, Donald—your flattery only deepens my disgust."
Michel snorted heavily, then barked an order: "Clear the square before your academy. There, construct for me an altar large enough to hold a thousand souls!"
"My lord, what purpose—?"
"Two defeats have proven that thunderbolt no human army can withstand. I must petition the Yalan Holy See, imploring them to dispatch a force beyond mortal strength to oppose it. Yet the See lies far, and time is short. I shall request that they employ a great spatial array to send their legions here in haste. The altar I command you to raise shall serve as their gateway."
Donald was stunned. On the Godbestowed Continent, Spatial Guardians could indeed transport others in an instant, but at dreadful cost: even a third-tier adept, exhausting his entire divine gift, could barely send a few dozen souls a mere hundred miles. Yet Michel demanded an altar for a thousand—would this not herald the arrival of tens of thousands of the See's own guards? The Holy See was sparing no expense. Trembling, Donald hurried off to obey.
Michel returned to the dean's office, which he had already claimed as his own. Once seated, his face darkened at the sight of the military dispatch before him, and he took up his pen to write:
"To the venerable lords of the Holy See: I, Michel, in the name of the Yalan Goddess's chosen voice, humbly beseech that you dispatch your legions without delay, using the great translocation array to reach Moonwatch City. I shall remain at Aemisel Academy to assist in the transmission. Lastly, I earnestly entreat you to send forth the sacred artifact bestowed by the Goddess herself, that we might withstand that white thunder no mortal force can oppose."
Recalling Robert's anguish at the news of his father's death, Michel added: "Examination of Robert continues. He shows remarkable progress, with steadfast character and unyielding filial devotion—qualities wholly aligned with the requirements of our plan. Yet as this plan concerns the fate of the Holy See and the shifting order of the continent, Michel shall proceed with utmost caution."
He further adorned the letter with lavish praise of Robert, extolling him as a rare prodigy, and urged the See to expedite his investiture as lord. Robert, however, knew nothing of these machinations shaping his destiny—and had no wish to know.
A heavy gloom hung over the lord's manor of Moonwatch. Luo Xiong's chair of office stood empty, upon it resting a bundle of relics still unopened. Robert sat blank-faced on a side seat in the council hall, dulled and hollow after his earlier cry of grief.
The household retainers gathered, some weeping uncontrollably, others staring at Robert in mute uncertainty. Even Senna, gravely wounded and bandaged, hid behind a screen, sighing silently for his friend.
At length, an aged man rose from among them—Luo Dong, eldest of the four sworn stewards of the Luo clan, known as the East among the cardinal guardians. Swallowing his grief, he cried out, "This is no time for tears. Our lord has fallen in battle, yet Moonwatch cannot stand a day without its master! Young master, take up the seal of Moonwatch and assume the lordship at once!"
With that, he dropped to his knees, bowing thrice. "The late lord's kindness to me was as a mountain. Though he is gone, his son yet lives. Luo Dong swears fealty unto death to Lord Robert!"
Another rose in turn. "Luo Nan swears fealty unto death to Lord Robert!"
Of the four stewards, Luo Xi and Luo Bei had perished with Luo Xiong at Mount Xingluo. Now the two survivors pledged their loyalty, and the rest followed suit, kneeling before Robert.
Robert seemed not to see their devotion. After a long silence, he muttered, "My father's bones are lost. I, his son, never even beheld his body—what right have I to sit in his place?"
Suddenly he sprang to his feet and strode toward the great doors. "I must go to Mount Xingluo. I will bring back my father's remains—"
Luo Dong sighed, knowing grief had overtaken the young master. He grasped Robert's shoulder. "My lord, we too long to recover the late lord's body. But Lord Michel speaks true: the thunderbolt now coils about Mount Xingluo, and Deathwater Lake seethes with peril. We must heed the See's command, else we march to certain doom."
Robert wrenched free, pressing onward. Luo Dong, anxious, could not restrain him. Signaling others to seize their lord, he dashed to the empty chair and tore open the bundle left by Luo Xiong.
"My lord, here lie the relics of the late lord—will you not look upon them even once?"
With a sharp clatter, fragments of battered armor fell to the floor—along with a small, crystalline object.
Barely the size of a thumb, it gleamed with jade-like luster. Its upper face bore a strange heptagonal sigil, while below jutted the snarling visage of a fierce beast. Its ears and fangs curved into a row of jagged teeth, lending it a sinister, awe-inspiring air.