Master Talia arrived at the luxurious hotel where her companions were staying. The suite was lavish—celestial silk drapes, spirit-infused lanterns, and polished jade floors—but the mood inside was anything but serene. When she informed the elders of Lady Rana's decision to remain on what some had deemed a "backwater continent" and of Jalen's unwavering opposition and terrifying strength, fury erupted.
So what if the kid was a Mid Sage Realm cultivator? He was only one person—and there were many of them. They wanted to take Rana by force.
Elder Lyle slammed his palm against the wall, cracking the spirit wood. "We should've taken her the moment we arrived."
Elder Timothy's eyes burned with indignation. "She is the heir to our great Solar Clan. We cannot let sentimentality cloud judgment."
Elder Tomlinson sighed before saying to Talia, his voice tight. "I was hoping you'd be able to settle this peacefully.
But I guess we'll have to do this the hard way."
Master Talia nodded in agreement.
Then she commanded all the warriors stationed outside or in adjacent rooms to prepare for departure to the Flare Palace.
Just as she and the elders were about to leave, the air in the hall shifted.
Jalen appeared—unnoticed and uninvited.
He breached the formation surrounding their private wing without triggering a ripple. The guards stationed outside didn't even sense his arrival.
This was the mastery of his first Spirit Wind Art Technique—Breath Like Dust. Now that he had stepped into the Sage Realm, he could breach Sage-level formations undetected and mask his presence from anyone at his level or below. He was a ghost cloaked in divine silence.
Before anyone could react—
Chains of refined light qi exploded outward.
His twenty-first Light Art technique, Light Chain, surged through the hall like a divine storm. The bindings wrapped around all twenty-five elders—swift, silent, and absolute.
But they weren't the only ones caught.
The chains pierced through walls and formations, lashing out with terrifying precision. Guards stationed outside, warriors resting in adjacent chambers, even those preparing in the outer corridors—none were spared. One hundred and fifty warriors, each a seasoned cultivator, were bound before they could even draw breath. Their limbs locked, their qi suppressed, their resistance crushed in an instant.
The harder they struggled, the faster their energy drained. The bindings tightened, feeding on their defiance like a living curse.
The elders froze, stunned not just by the technique's power but by the sheer speed and precision of its execution. Jalen, who had planned this ambush the moment Talia left the Flare Palace, had caught them completely off guard—and in that moment of hesitation, he had won.
Then the panic began.
The elders roared, channeling their qi to break free. But the chains responded like living things—absorbing their energy, converting it into radiant pressure that constricted their limbs and sealed their meridians. One elder tried to burn through the bindings with fire qi, only to find his flames snuffed out before they could form.
Another attempted spatial displacement—but the chains disrupted his technique mid-cast, collapsing his control and leaving him gasping.
The more they resisted, the more the chains fed on their defiance.
A Peak Immortal Realm elder collapsed to his knees, his veins glowing with residual light as the chains drained him to near unconsciousness. Even the Mid Sage Realm elders like Tomlinson felt their strength ebbing, their qi sluggish and unresponsive. Their pride, their centuries of cultivation, meant nothing in the face of Jalen's technique. It was not just suppression—it was domination.
Jalen stood at the center of it all, calm and cold.
"You all have two options: submit or die," he said, his voice like thunder in their ears. Some were terrified. Others grew more defiant.
"We are not enemies," Talia struggled to speak as the chains crushed her. "We all want Rana safe. We won't achieve that by fighting each other."
Jalen ignored her. "So—what are your choices?"
Many teeth gnashed, fists clenched in anger. Even Talia's pride flared. But as death drew closer, pride gave way to survival. One by one, they submitted.
Only then did Jalen plant a detonating ball of qi into their dantian—an invisible seed of destruction that would explode at his will. It was a brutal but effective leash.
Had they not been weakened, this task would've been impossible without severe backlash.
And as for why he didn't use soul suppression via spirit sense—these were seasoned cultivators of the highest realm. Once freed from his chains and recovered, they could break free using their own spirit senses or tools. But with the method Jalen used, even attempting to remove the detonating qi could cause severe internal damage.
Now that Jalen had fulfilled the task of forcing submission, he released them from the light chains.
"You brat," Lyle snarled, looking gravely pale. "You dare use such underhanded tactics against us?"
"Said the person who was going to use his strength to oppress a smaller clan and kidnap my wife," Jalen retorted. "You're just upset that I beat you at your own game."
He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the room. "From this day forward, your task is to protect the Flare Family until I say otherwise. Failure will result in your death."
Many were displeased, but none dared to refute him. The threat of detonation loomed too close.
"Since no one objects, I expect to see you all at the Flare Palace within the hour," Jalen commanded, then turned and left.
After he departed, the elders vented their frustration on Tomlinson and Talia. If it weren't for them, they would've taken Rana and been long gone.
Timothy cursed under his breath. Lyle paced like a caged beast. Warriors muttered about humiliation and betrayal.
Tomlinson was left speechless. He knew what they said was true. But what was done was done. There was nothing he or the others could do to escape such a fate—unless they surpassed Jalen's realm. And at the boy's rate of growth, that seemed impossible.
Now, they had no choice but to become lackeys of an inferior clan. And that truth stung more than any wound.