Chapter 111: The Bronze Citadel and the Dance of Masks
I. The Veil of Frost and Shadow (Infiltration)
The Bronze Citadel was an imposing fortress embedded into the slope of a mineral-rich mountain. Its walls, reinforced with copper alloys and High Earth-Grade defensive runes, hummed with energy designed to detect intruders. For a normal cultivator, crossing without permission was suicide.
For Violeta and Elara, fresh from the gravity hell, it was a walk in the park.
In the shadow cast by the northern watchtower, the air rippled. —"The detection matrix scans every three seconds," Elara whispered. Her presence was zero; even standing right there, she seemed like a glitch in one's peripheral vision. —"There is a gap in the Qi flow at the southeast corner, thirty meters up."
Violeta looked upward. Her heterochromatic eyes shimmered. She didn't see the wall as stone; she saw spatial coordinates. —"We don't need gaps," Violeta said calmly. —"Distance is irrelevant."
Violeta grabbed Elara's shoulder. There was no flash, no sound of teleportation. Simply, space "folded." In a blink, they were no longer outside. They were inside, crouched upon a bronze gargoyle atop an interior building. The wall's runes didn't even flicker; they hadn't detected an intrusion because, technically, Violeta hadn't "passed through" the barrier—she had overlapped two points in space to skip over it.
—"Your spatial control..." Elara looked at her, impressed. —"It's frightening." —"Samael said to eliminate the distance between the edge and the neck," Violeta responded, adjusting her cloak. —"I just applied the same to my feet. Let's go. Malak has already positioned the first shadows."
From the shadows of the alleys, invisible red eyes watched. The Shadow Legion (Peak Origin Realm) glided like black oil through the sewers and across rooftops, taking positions at the guard barracks and armories. The city was already taken; its inhabitants just didn't know it yet.
II. The Dragon's Arrogance (Main Gate)
While the girls took control of the shadows, the midday sun illuminated the Great South Gate. A line of caravans and merchants awaited inspection. The Citadel guards, dressed in polished bronze armor, collected abusive "entry taxes," laughing at the nervous traders.
Then, the ground trembled.
A black carriage, pulled by two Thunder Scale Beasts (Rank 4 Beasts, equivalent to Transcendence), advanced down the road, ignoring the line. The carriage bore no emblems, but it emanated an aura of obscene wealth. The guards stepped in its path, spears crossed. —"Halt!" barked the guard captain, a burly man in the 8th Stage of Transcendence. —"To the back of the line, like everyone else! Who do you think you are?"
The carriage door opened. First, a boot of black dragon leather stepped out. Then, Kael descended. He wore a crimson silk robe that barely concealed the unnatural density of his muscles. He carried no visible weapons, but his mere presence made the guards' mounts whine and recoil. His cultivation was suppressed to appear as Origin Realm Stage 1—enough to be respected, but not enough to cause national panic.
Kael looked at the captain as one looks at a bothersome insect. —"My Master does not wait in lines," Kael said, his deep voice resonating in the soldiers' breastplates.
—"I don't care who your master is!" the captain shouted, trying to maintain authority. —"In the Bronze Citadel, the law is—!"
—"The law?" a soft, almost bored voice came from inside the carriage.
Samael stepped out. His appearance had been slightly altered with a subtle illusion mask. His white hair was pulled into a high ponytail with a blood-jade brooch. He wore robes of deep violet embroidered with real gold thread. His aura was tuned perfectly to Origin Realm Stage 3. He looked the part of a typical "Young Master" from an ancient sect: handsome, wealthy, and dangerously arrogant.
Samael walked toward the captain, ignoring the spears pointed at him. —"The law usually has a price, Captain," Samael said, pulling a silk pouch from his sleeve. He tossed it. The pouch hit the captain's chest with a heavy, metallic thud. The captain opened it and turned pale. They were Mid-Grade Spirit Stones. A hundred of them. A fortune a normal guard wouldn't see in ten years.
—"This is for the trouble of opening the gate right now," Samael said, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder. —"And I want an escort to the Golden Lotus Auction House. I understand there are interesting things for sale today."
The captain swallowed hard, greed battling pride. Greed won by a landslide. —"Make way!" he roared to his men, bowing deeply. —"The Young Master... uh...!"
—"Dorian. Of the Vylos Clan of the East," Samael lied with terrifying naturalness. (A non-existent clan, but it sounded ancient enough).
—"Young Master Dorian Vylos has priority passage!"
The carriage entered the city, with the guards shoving commoners aside. Kael climbed back in, sitting across from Samael with a predatory smile. —"'Dorian Vylos,' huh?" Kael mocked in a low voice. —"Sounds like the name of someone who would die in chapter three of a cheap novel."
—"Exactly," Samael responded, looking out the window with cold eyes. —"An easy target. A rich idiot. Just what we need to get the rats to crawl out of their holes to try and rob us."
III. The Nest of Vipers (Auction House)
The Golden Lotus Auction House was the heart of corruption in the Citadel. A building of marble and gold where slaves, forbidden beasts, and stolen artifacts were sold.
Samael and Kael entered, the aura of "new money" emanating from them. Kael, acting as a bodyguard, used his shoulder to shove aside anyone who got too close, releasing bursts of controlled killing intent. A manager, a thin man with weasel eyes, approached, rubbing his hands together. —"Welcome, noble lords. Are you looking to buy or sell?"
—"I'm looking to spend," Samael said, tossing another mid-grade spirit stone to the manager as a tip. —"I want the best private box. And I want the catalog of the 'special' items. The ones you don't show to the peasants on the ground floor."
The manager caught the stone mid-air, his eyes shining. —"Of course, Young Master Vylos. Just today we have merchandise that is... exquisite. Coming from a recent purge on the southern border."
Samael and Kael exchanged an imperceptible glance. "Purge in the south." It could be survivors from allied clans or artifacts stolen from their own people.
They were guided to VIP Box Number 3. From there, they had a perfect view of the stage and the other boxes. Samael sat on the velvet throne, crossing his legs, while Kael stood behind him like an iron statue.
—"Malak," Samael whispered, without moving his lips.
From the shadow of his own chair, Malak's voice (now a Saint in the shadows) resonated directly in his mind. —Master. My men have secured the perimeter. And Violeta has found something in the underground warehouses. You aren't going to like it.
—"What is it?"
—Cages. With marks of your old clan. Not Morningstar... they are allies. People from the Silver Ash Clan, vassals of Aunt Lilith who disappeared years ago.
Samael's eyes narrowed. The temperature in the box dropped ten degrees. —"Are they alive?"
—Barely. They are going to auction them as 'cultivation slaves' in an hour.
Kael, hearing the conversation through the soul bond, gripped the hilt of his sword until the leather creaked. —"Brother..." Kael growled.
—"Calm down," Samael said aloud, taking a glass of wine offered by a trembling maid. —"We are going to buy them. And once they are safe..." Samael smiled, and the maid felt an urge to weep from terror without knowing why. —"Then, we will turn this place into a slaughterhouse."
IV. The Arrival of the Rival
Just as the auction was about to begin, a commotion was heard at the main entrance. A group of cultivators dressed in white and blue robes entered. They emanated an intense cold. At the lead was a young man with pale blue hair and an arrogant gaze that rivaled Samael's mask. His cultivation was real: Origin Realm Stage 5.
The manager rushed toward him, ignoring all other customers. —"Young Master Lorian of the Star Ice Empire! What an honor!"
Samael watched from above. —"Star Ice Empire..." he murmure.
Lorian looked toward the VIP boxes and saw Samael. Their gazes clashed. Ice against disguised Void. —"Who is occupying my usual box?" Lorian asked loudly, pointing at Samael.
The manager broke into a sweat. —"It is... Young Master Dorian Vylos, a very generous client..."
—"Vylos? I've never heard of that trash clan," Lorian said, raising his voice to humiliate. —"Tell him to get down. That box belongs to the Star Ice."
Samael leaned over the railing, looking down with a lazy smile. —"If you want the box, come up and get it, 'ice cube.' But I warn you... my guard has a bad temper when my drinking is interrupted."
Kael stepped forward, letting out a fraction of his Origin Realm Stage 9 aura. It was just a flash, a heartbeat, but it was enough for Lorian to instinctively step back and for the manager to nearly faint.
The room fell into absolute silence. The game had begun.