Old Fu's eyes snapped open, his pupils dilating as a sharp, pungent scent burned through his nostrils.
"Hngh?!" He gasped, his breath uneven. The cold stone beneath him felt rough, unyielding, and as he shifted, something crinkled beneath his fingers—a small parchment, its surface dusted with smelling salts.
The bitter tang still lingered in the air.
His head throbbed, his vision adjusting to the dim glow of lanterns flickering along the walls. Shadows danced ominously around him, painting an eerie atmosphere.
"Where… Where am I?!" His voice cracked as he struggled to sit up.
A pair of footsteps echoed through the chamber, slow and deliberate.
"I'm sure you remember the glory of my sect," a deep voice rumbled.
From the darkness, Noel emerged, his imposing figure illuminated by the warm, wavering light. His expression was unreadable, but his presence alone was suffocating.
"The Immortal Sect," Noel declared.
Old Fu flinched.
A second voice followed, smoother yet no less threatening.
"That's right," Kazel stepped forward, his arms crossed, his eyes cold as steel.
Panic surged through Old Fu's chest. He looked around, but there were no exits, no allies, no hope.
"What… What are you trying to do to me?" he stammered, his breath growing shallow.
Kazel smirked.
"Isn't it obvious?"
Old Fu's lips trembled. His mind raced, desperate for escape, desperate for mercy.
"Please… Please, don't kill me! I—I'll do anything!" he cried, his hands pressing into the cold floor as he prostrated himself.
Kazel's eyes darkened with disdain.
"Pathetic."
A sharp spit landed on Old Fu's face. He flinched but dared not wipe it away.
"Men like you ruin nations," Kazel sneered. "You poison from the shadows, crawling like rats."
"No—no! It wasn't me!" Old Fu sobbed, his face twisted in desperation. "It was all Weh! He planned everything!"
Noel's brows furrowed, his hands clenching into fists.
"Weh planned to dissolve my son's arranged marriage… by having him killed?!" his voice thundered, filled with unmasked fury.
Old Fu trembled under his glare. "He—he needed a reason! If he ended the engagement without cause, the Rising Stone Sect's reputation would have suffered!"
Noel exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening.
Kazel, however, only chuckled.
"Ah, I see," he murmured, his fingers tracing his chin in mock amusement. "So in order to save face, he decided to murder a child instead?"
Old Fu's breathing hitched.
Kazel crouched down, his face mere inches from the trembling old man's.
"Tell me, Old Fu…" he whispered, his tone deadly. "Did you really think you wouldn't pay the price?"
Old Fu sat there, trembling, his mind racing but coming up with nothing—no excuse, no justification. Kazel was supposed to be dead. That was the plan. There should have been no consequences for him, no repercussions. And yet, here he was, at the mercy of the very boy he had poisoned.
So, he did the only thing left to do.
He bowed his head in silence.
Noel exhaled, his gaze piercing. "Was it money?" His voice was heavy, filled with restrained fury.
"I..." Old Fu's lips quivered before he suddenly slammed his forehead against the cold stone floor. The sharp thud echoed through the chamber. Blood dripped from his wrinkled skin, but he paid it no mind.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he wailed, his frail body shaking as he kowtowed before the patriarch of the Immortal Sect. "I had no choice! Please, have mercy!"
Noel didn't respond. His silence was far heavier than any words could have been.
Kazel, however, was far from finished. His gaze sharpened as he took a step forward.
"Is Salma involved?"
At those words, Old Fu flinched violently. His hands clawed at the floor, his breathing ragged.
Then—he broke.
"S-She was the one who initiated it!" The words came out in a desperate rush. "She was the one who pitched the idea! She saw her chance—she made the decision!"
Noel froze, his breath hitching as if someone had just driven a dagger into his chest.
His mind reeled. (Salma…?)
His son's betrothed. The girl he had thought of as family. The one he had believed would be bound to them in blood and name.
And yet—she had been the architect of Kazel's murder?
His hands trembled at his sides.
But then—
"Heh."
Noel turned his head sharply.
Kazel was smirking.
Not out of amusement, not out of joy—no, it was something else. Something sharper.
Instead of crumbling into despair, instead of breaking down in sorrow like Noel had expected—Kazel stood up.
There was no sadness in his eyes.
No grief.
Only the cold certainty of a man who had long since accepted the cruelty of the world.
Kazel turned away, hands slipping into his pockets as he exhaled slowly.
"That's how it is, Mother," he said, his tone calm, detached. As if this revelation—the betrayal, the treachery, the attempt on his life—was nothing more than an inconvenience.
From the shadows, Lana stepped forward.
Tears lined her cheeks, glistening under the dim lantern light, but her eyes burned with fury. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her own skin. She wasn't just grieving—she was seething.
She didn't look at her son.
She didn't look at her husband.
Her gaze was locked on Old Fu, pure venom radiating from her trembling frame.
"Lana..." Old Fu's voice quivered, his lips barely forming the name.
But Lana did not answer.
She only stared, her hatred silent but deafening.
Kazel stretched his arms above his head, as if shaking off the weight of the night. "Do what you want with him, Mother, Father," he said with a yawn, "I'm heading to my room."
With that, he walked past them, never sparing Old Fu another glance.
Noel moved in the opposite direction, his steps heavy with purpose. As Kazel disappeared into the darkness of the corridor, Noel reached down, gripping Old Fu's head with one hand.
A single hand.
Like a predator claiming its prey.
The old man thrashed, whimpering, but Noel's grip was unyielding, fingers digging into his skull as if he were palming a mere ball.
"P-Please, Lana," Old Fu choked out, desperation clawing at his voice. His hands trembled as they reached for her. "Find it in your heart to forgive me! I treated you before! Without me, you would have died! You owe me!"
Lana inhaled sharply, her whole body trembling.
Noel didn't even blink.
"Do what you want, Lana," he said simply, his tone eerily calm.
Lana let out a slow, shaky breath. Then she stepped forward.
"Open his mouth, Noel."
The command was cold.
Noel did not hesitate.
Four of his fingers jammed into Old Fu's mouth, prying his jaw open. The old man gurgled in protest, his frail limbs flailing, but Noel's strength was absolute.
A well.
That was all it was now—a well.
Lana reached into her robes, retrieving two pouches.
The same pills.
The same poison.
Black and purple, the very medicine meant to kill her son.
With a flick of her wrist, she poured them down Old Fu's gaping mouth.
The bitter pellets slid down his throat.
Straight to his guts.
His muffled screams echoed through the chamber.