The night slipped away, swallowed by the quiet. The City Lord crawled into bed, shivering beneath his blankets, his broken pinky throbbing—a cruel reminder of the past two hours.
The room was unchanged: the same gilded walls, the same velvet drapes by the windows pooling like spilled wine. Yet, everything felt fractured, as if the air itself knew of his fear. Fear of 'him'.
Riven, after leaving the trembling lord at his mansion, vanished into the shadows toward the Jade Library Cave on his Golden Crowned Immortal Crane.
Next dawn, his mind churned with purpose.
He glanced at the rising sun, its golden rays slicing through the mist. Time to see his grandmother, the one soul who'd loved him fiercely since he was a boy.
He leapt onto his crane, its feathers gleaming like polished jade, and soared through the clouds. The Ashvale Mansion came into view below, nestled in the city's heart.
Circling gracefully, Riven's gaze softened at the sight of his grandmother in the courtyard, bathed in morning light, her fingers deftly knitting a scarf.
His scarf, no doubt—her last one torn to shreds by the 'older brother' who wasn't his brother. A quiet smile tugged at his lips, warmth blooming in his chest.
She always savored this hour, around 9:30, when the sun's gentle glow kissed the earth. With practiced ease, Riven guided the crane to a soft landing, choosing a spot that wouldn't startle her.
Channeling his energy, he drifted down like a falling leaf, his boots whispering against the courtyard stones.
There she sat, nestled in her bamboo rocking chair under the dappled shade of an ancient tree, her face serene as she wove her stitches. Riven's heart swelled.
In a voice soft as the morning breeze, he called, "Grandmommy? Grandmama?"
Madam Ashvale's needles froze mid-stitch. That voice—it couldn't be. Her grandson, off at the Imperial Examination, shouldn't be here.
She turned, and there he stood, his smile as bright as the boy she'd raised. Her eyes widened, confusion knitting her brow.
"Riven? What're you doing here, my boy?" she asked, voice trembling. "You'll miss the examination! What's… I don't get it…"
Her words stumbled, her mind grappling with the impossible. The boy who'd left for the capital was standing right in front of her, solid and real.
She blinked, searching his face, then softened. "Is something up? Something big you need to tell me?"
Sharp as ever, she cut through her shock with the clarity of a woman who'd stood beside a general. Riven stepped closer, dropping to one knee.
He took her hand, weathered yet warm, and pressed a gentle kiss to it. Resting his head on her lap, he spoke softly, his voice steady but heavy with unspoken weight.
"Yeah, Grandma, I got something to say. But let's head inside, okay? It's… sensitive stuff. I don't want you worried or caught off guard."
He looked up, his smile gentle but tinged with secrets. "Your grandson's right here. I'm fine, promise. So, how about we go in and I tell you a story?"
She searched his eyes, her own shimmering with love and unease. With a nod, she rose, leaning on his arm as they stepped toward the mansion's shadowed halls.
Behind them, the half-knit scarf lay draped over the chair, swaying in the breeze.
...
Madam Ashvale was no ordinary woman.
She was the unyielding spine of the Ashvale household, forged in grief when her husband fell in battle. A cruel forging of a normal mortal woman, but it is real nonetheless.
When the family broke apart, the siblings walking their own paths, she chose to follow her youngest, when Riven's father—spineless and useless—couldn't even lift his head.
One cannot underestimate a noble widow with responsibility.
She had ruled the household with strength and discipline. She was fire wrapped in flesh. A tigress. A dragoness. A woman carved from iron.
But now, as Riven spoke, she listened in boiling wrath.
As he revealed the betrayal, the scheme, the attempted murder…
Something inside her cracked.
Her hands clenched into fists, her entire body trembling with rage. Her nostrils flared. Her chest heaved.
Her own grandson—her boy—had nearly been stolen from her.
And the first grandson? That smug, hollow-eyed wretch she'd barely tolerated? The one who always looked down on others with that empty arrogance—
He wasn't even a Ashvale.
He wasn't even imperial blood.
And that woman—her first daughter-in-law—
Her lips curled, her eyes burned.
"That… fucking bitch," she spat.
She stood up, pacing, storming back and forth like a caged beast.
"So that's what it was. That's what all the secrets were. That's why the bastard always looked nothing like you. I should've known. I SHOULD'VE KNOWN!"
She spun, slamming her palm against the wooden wall, the thud echoing like a war drum.
"I thought—at least—after you went to the capital, they'd stop! I thought they'd let you go! But no—no! These fucking people!"
Her breathing was wild. She was trying to hold herself together, but the storm inside her raged on.
And then—
She turned back to Riven.
Her eyes, red. Her face, twisted in pain and love.
She crossed the room, walking until she was in front of him. Her hands were trembling as she cupped his face, pulling him close.
"My boy… my sweet, sweet boy…"
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I am so glad you're alive… I am so glad…"
"If I lost you… if I lost you, this old woman's life would be over. I would have nothing left."
"You're the only sunlight I have in this godforsaken house. The only warmth. The only thing left that's still mine."
She pulled him into a tight, trembling embrace, burying his face into her bosom.
"They will pay," she whispered. "Every last one of them."
….
Riven chatted with her for a while until the raging fire inside the old woman calmed down.
Once he realized she was ready for the next subject, he revealed what he had been holding back.
He shared the truth—what at first seemed like misfortune had turned into a rare opportunity.
He told her that his body had changed.
He could now cultivate.
He could now practice martial arts.
Her eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief. But before her worry could rise again, Riven calmly weaved a believable story to justify his transformation.
He walked her outside and called Solwing, and wove a realistic tale of salvation. Telling that it was Solwing that saved him, and he ate something in its nest. Something that was glowing.
Afterward, he drifted off into a deep sleep and just recently woke up two weeks ago. He shared that it didn't take long for him to notice the changes in his body and the wonderful opportunity he had come across.
Understanding that he could no longer participate in the imperial examination and having learned of the plot against him, he expressed his deep concern for what might happen to his family - her.
Which prompted his return to his house.
His voice was steady, confident. His presence grounded.
And just like that, he soothed her nerves, slowly quieting the storm that had just started raging inside her heart.
By the end of his explanation, she was beaming. Pride lit up her face like sunlight.
Her hands held his again, but this time, worry was the last thing on her mind—
In joy.
"You really are your grandfather's blood," she said, eyes bright. "Leave it to me. I'll figure out something to make sure your position in this city becomes untouchable."
Riven smiled and nodded with confidence.
"Give me four more months, Grandmother," he promised. "I will complete the postnatal stage… and reach its peak."
That promise sealed the moment.
They agreed that Riven would keep his distance from the household during this time—to remain hidden and safe while he cultivated.
Then Madam Ashvale proposed something that surprised even him.
She said she would send word to his grandfather's sister's family.
She had married into another branch of the Ashvale household—one with more influence and authority. How much more, Riven didn't know.
Riven remembered that family. He remembered that this Grandmother (his grandfather's sister) brought a little girl with her to visit them once.
The girl had been five years older than him—
But she had been completely dominated by him in every game, every exchange.
She had been raised to be proud, strict, and formal. But back then, Riven's sheer intelligence and maturity had turned her completely submissive.
And now, Madam Ashvale intended to use that family as a foothold.
Her plan was bold—
The objective is to consolidate the strength of House Ashvale through this family, subsequently unveiling the truth:
Riven was assassinated yet had survived, cultivated, and possessed substantial, formidable potential. The most important being the latter part.
She would engage in the power dynamics, exploiting the Ashvale family's desperation to preserve their status with talented Ashvale seeds.
Her intention was to demonstrate the merits of investing in Riven, coupled with the fact that he was the grandson of the general who died like a lion.
With their backing, she would advocate for the establishment of a Duchy, encompassing this city, the lands surrounding it, and all its territories.
As Riven listened, he experienced a profound sense of admiration.
He made no effort to conceal his awe internally;
This woman—his grandmother—had genuinely sustained this family amidst conflict.
Her intellect, adaptability, and astute perception of both individuals and politics were unparalleled.
However, he was doubtful about a single point, "Grandma, will this Grandmother from my Grandfather's side really help me?"
To advocate for a duchy in these borderlands required substantial influence and power. And he wasn't really sure if their family even had such connections.
"It is time for you to know about your grandfather. Once everything is settled, you should meet sister in law. It was my mundane blood that dulled his fire in you kids, something I regret to this day. Or else you would all be martial geniuses."
Riven promptly changed the subject, as his grandmother tends to become overly emotional whenever she discusses his grandfather. He prioritized his grandmother's well-being over his curiosity regarding the identity of his grandfather.
Soon, they had a rudimentary level of understanding about what they were going to do. Undoubtedly, strategizing is one aspect; executing the plan is another.
Ultimately, the responsibility would rest upon him.
This entire endeavor hinged on a singular factor— the willingness of House Ashvale to invest in a new Ashvale innate seed.
A progeny capable of ascending to the Innate rebirth realm and wielding significant political power.
That constituted all the justification they required.
Riven was resolutely determined to embody that justification, that reason.
....
Madam Ashvale stood in the courtyard, her eyes tracing the arc of Riven's crane as it vanished into the horizon, pride burning in her chest.
Afterwards, she slowly turned back to the residence and walked towards her bedroom.
Locking the bedroom door, she walked to the wardrobe and opened it. Removing the clothes and revealing a hidden compartment underneath, she opened that too.
Locking the door with a soft click, she moved to her wardrobe, pushing aside silk robes to reveal a hidden compartment. From it, she lifted a device of metal and wood, its intricate components gleaming faintly in the dim light.
"Sigh… It is something that I need to face one way or the other. I have been pushing it behind for so long."
She murmured, her voice heavy with a rare indecision.
Clutching a small pendant amulet from her necklace, she spoke with heavy emotion, "Forgive me, my love. I have feared facing your sister for so long. She might even hate me."
"But you see… our grandson. He has your blood, my love! That fire in his eyes! Oh, how it resembles yours!" Her voice trembled, tears welling as she rubbed the pendant, its surface worn smooth by years of touch.
She saw him again, her husband, standing tall like a fortress, claiming her—a mortal woman—as his own. Loving her.
"I know our family is not what you wished, but I followed your advice. Fleeing to this borderland with our youngest. The one with the least greed among our children. As soft as he is, he still loves his parents." Rubbing the pendant, she spoke softly.
"But now our grandchild has shown a desire to step into power. Let me help him. Bless him, my love. Bless him with greatness," she kissed the pendant and decisively pressed a button on the device.
The room was enveloped in silence. Only the occasional flutter of the window curtains could be heard. After about thirty seconds, a white light flickered on the device, and a voice drifted out.
Surprisingly, her voice was not filled with hatred or irritation, but with genuine concern.
"Sister! Is that you?!" the voice asked with a mix of joyful surprise and urgency.
Madam Ashvale was shocked for a moment. Where was the voice admonishing her?
"Sister? Sister?! Hello?" The voice grew increasingly agitated as she did not receive an answer.
Breaking out of her reverie, Madam Ashvale replied with a bitter smile. "Hello sister…"
"Livy! It is you! My god, how have you been?"
Hearing the woman call her with the same name she called her when she gave her consent and blessing for the marriage, her face broke into a trembling but happy smile.
"I'm sorry, sister. I was too ashamed to call you," Madam Ashvale said.
"Livy…. What happened to my brother was his choice alone. This was what he wanted. He died in glory! I would never blame you for anything."
Madam Ashvale remembered the ever-graceful and ever-calm woman. Cupping her cheek and telling her to take care of her 'idiotic' brother.
"Sister… thank you. Let me give you some good news."
"Eh? Good news? What happened? Did little Silas grow a pair?"
Madam Ashvale shook her head and chuckled. The woman's mouth was loose as ever. "Unfortunately… no. But this is better news. Remember your favorite grandchild?"
"Little Riven? I'm waiting for him in the capital. Hmph… even though none of you told me he is going there for the exam, do you think I wouldn't know?" The voice huffed in mock irritation.
"Well…. It's a long story. A bit of good and bad both."
"I have time now. Go on!" The voice urgently pleaded.
And so Madam Ashvale started the story. "Three months ago, Riven…"