Chapter 538: Countermeasures

Dragonspire.

This city, even more prosperous than Goldenfeather, had been shrouded in dark clouds ever since the mysterious deaths of Queen Trisia V and King Tameriel.

Within the royal palace, though King Taro sat upon the throne and held authority over many matters, whenever the kingdom’s interests clashed with those of the Sacred Storm, he was forced to yield—always placing their will above his own.

In a sense, the crown had grown weaker.

“Your Eminence, news has returned from the Kingdom of Ordwin.”

Taro entered Yan’yi’s training courtyard. Though January still carried a chill, the air here was far warmer than outside.

At its center, Yan’yi stood bathed in flickering crimson light—like a living flame pulsing heat into the world. The closer one drew, the more unbearable the searing warmth became.

Yan’yi extinguished the blazing aura around him and rose slowly to his full height.

“Your expression is wrong.”

He stepped forward. “What happened?”

Indeed, Taro’s face was grim. Once, he had hungered for power, believing that ascending the throne—aided by the Sacred Storm—would make him master of the entire continent.

But that dream had lasted only months. Since then, defeat followed defeat, each loss deepening his decline.

Now, not only had Trisia lost its borderlands, but the Sacred Storm had also lost one of its core figures.

Thinking of this, Taro felt both dread for the future and bitter resentment toward Yan’yi and the others.

His voice was low, heavy: “That man, Roland… he’s said to have become a Legendary Knight. He captured Garret and Faelens alive, slaughtered Ural, Aslon, and even Serendil never made it back!”

At these words, Yan’yi’s face darkened, twisted with fury and sorrow.

Though the three emissaries were never close, they had come from the same order, sent together to conquer a new land—bound by something like kinship.

When Mephisto died, Yan’yi had felt little more than passing regret; after all, the fool never obeyed orders.

But Serendil… her death stirred in him a grief as sharp as a rabbit mourning the fox’s fate.

“How?!” Yan’yi roared, his rage erupting into a storm of icy force that hurled Taro backward. “Roland was only Solar-tier! How did he suddenly become Legendary?! What kind of intelligence are you running that such a critical truth escaped you?”

Taro staggered to his feet, gasping. “Roland’s strength has always been a mystery. Who could have known his true level?”

Frustration spilled from his voice, raw and unfiltered.

“And besides—the Mistveil battle, this latest operation—they were *your* plans! Rather than vent your anger on me, Emissary, perhaps consider what we do next!”

Whoosh!

In an instant, Yan’yi closed the distance, seized Taro by the throat, and lifted him off the ground.

“What? You dare speak to me like this now? Think because Serendil is gone, you can challenge me?”

Taro’s face turned purple, choking, unable to utter a word.

Yan’yi dragged him close, their faces nearly touching.

“I’ll tell you this—before absolute power, your schemes mean nothing. I deposed your father. I can depose you just as easily.”

He released his grip, flinging Taro to the stone floor.

“Do not forget—I am Legendary too.”

Taro collapsed, gasping for breath, eyes wide with fear.

He had known Yan’yi was stronger than Serendil—but never imagined he had reached the Legendary rank.

“Then why,” Taro wheezed, “didn’t you go with Serendil?”

“If you had been there, they wouldn’t have died.”

Yan’yi snorted coldly, offering no explanation.

The truth was, he had stayed behind to recover.

As mentioned before, any knight could be transformed into a Flamebrand Knight—but the ritual demanded a torment akin to being burned alive from within, and fewer than one in ten survived.

For key individuals, if Yan’yi offered his own lifeblood, success was guaranteed—but at great cost: he would lose his peak strength for a time.

To ensure Garret’s transformation succeeded without fail, Yan’yi had once again sacrificed his essence. Weakened, vulnerable, he could not accompany Serendil to Goldenfeather.

He had assumed she, armed with spell scrolls and a host of warriors, would easily slay Roland.

Never imagined this outcome.

In hindsight, he should have urged caution.

But in the end, it was Roland who shattered their plans.

Without him, they would not have lost at Mistveil—and might already have taken Redpine Fortress, driving straight into the heart of Ordwin.

“If you don’t wish to see your kingdom fall beneath your rule,” Yan’yi said, “then think carefully—what comes next?”

Yan’yi was no strategist. Before, Serendil had devised the plans, with Taro executing them. Now that she was gone, the burden fell to Taro.

Taro met his gaze. “We must reassess Roland’s strength and craft a far more cautious strategy.

He is Legendary now. That means so long as no one on our side can match him in open battle, we will forever be on the defensive, forever outmatched.”

Yan’yi frowned. He knew Taro spoke truth—but sending himself to the front lines now was unthinkable.

Mephisto and Serendil were dead. If he perished too, their lord’s mission would be utterly ruined.

When his soul returned to the demon god’s embrace, he might face eternal torment. He would not risk that.

“Our recent operations have depleted our elite forces. I need time to replenish them,” Yan’yi said, offering an excuse. “And for safety’s sake, I can no longer guarantee 100% success in transformations. So you must provide me with as many knights as possible.”

“The Ordwin Kingdom now has no king, no heir. No one to claim the throne. I suspect chaos will follow—that buys us time.”

Taro took a deep breath, steadying his thoughts. “If they press forward, I will have border cities resist in stages, slowing their advance as much as possible before you enter the field.”

“Also, Andreia is dead, Faelens captured. Their duchies will be purged, absorbed. I’ll contact their descendants. Trisia will offer them equal honor—but only if they prove their worth. Let us stir disorder within Ordwin.”

Yan’yi paused, considering. Though some of Taro’s actions displeased him, the man’s mind was sharp. Reluctantly, he nodded.

“Then proceed as you suggest.”

But he added sharply: “Do not forget—send me knights. As many as you can!”

A faint smile tugged at Taro’s lips. With Serendil gone, the constraints on his power had loosened greatly.

Roland was strong, yes—but if he could manipulate Yan’yi, pit the two Legendaries against each other, let them destroy one another… ideally, annihilate each other…

Then Taro would gain the Flamebrand power for free, along with an army of Flamebrand Knights.

Without Roland, without Faelens, Andreia, Garret—Ordwin would be hollow. Trisia’s strength would still surpass it.

Time stretched ahead, vast and uncertain. No one could foresee the final outcome.

Yet Taro faced the future with quiet optimism.

Goldenfeather City.

With Broll now commanding both the Gryphon Knights and the Royal Guard, all unrest in Goldenfeather and its surroundings was crushed in blood.

Rioters were either executed in the streets or thrown into prisons, broken and half-dead.

Meanwhile, gryphons and noble caravans arrived in endless procession, converging upon Goldenfeather Palace.

These guests were almost entirely direct vassals of the late king. Those loyal to other lords—men like Karlby or Marvin—were not invited.

Rulans, who had been inspecting the borders, heard of Roland’s astonishing deeds and immediately mounted a gryphon, flying straight to Goldenfeather’s estate.

“Roland,” he asked, “do you wish to be king?”

The moment Ru Lans saw Luo Ning, he asked, “If you’d like, just say the word to Grandpa—I’ll make it happen for you!”

Luo Ning smiled. “Then please, make it happen for me!” (End of Chapter)