While peace settled like a fragile veil over Blazecity, storm clouds were already gathering beneath it.
The Drakes had moved fast.
Within just a day of internal deliberation, Brandon Drake and the family elders finalized the "compensation" they would send to the Leonhart Clan. Ten entire carriages each loaded with treasure rolled out of the Drake compound, guarded by a unit of elite cultivators of the Drake clan.
As the glittering convoy rumbled through the streets, it was impossible to ignore to anyone as it was too much of an eye catching scene.
Civilians paused mid-step to see the treasure and Cultivators glanced twice towards that direction.
And very quickly, the whispers began, as they always did inside Blazecity.
"They're really doing it... The Drake Clan is bowing to the Leonharts."
"They must be terrified of that old monster Leo. No one else could force them to do this."
"Serves them right. Stirring up trouble and spreading lies has its price."
The rumors spread like wildfire across Blazecity.
Most of the city's factions had already assumed the Drakes would compromise. After all, the reputation of the Leonhart Ancestor was no joke. Decades ago, he had already reached Core Break Tier – Level 7, and had since vanished into secluded cultivation.
By now, it was common belief that he had broken into Level 9 and became an apex cultivator whose mere presence could shake the City.
Sure, the man might be old. His strength might have even dulled with age. But even an aging dragon was not to be provoked lightly.
So no one was shocked the Drakes yielded to the Leonharts...
...But they were shocked at how fast they did.
"Hehe.... Who would've thought? The proudest clan in Blazecity groveling like this..."
"There's no such thing as eternal glory. The Drakes have reigned for centuries. That alone is impressive considering how many clans rise and fall without even lasting a century."
"Also They know when to take a step back and fold, That's what makes them dangerous."
Public opinion, however, wasn't kind towards them as the reputation of Drake clan was already low among the citizens.
It didn't take long for word to spread that the recent rumors about Ancestor Leo's so-called failing lifespan had all originated from the Drake family themselves. Now The plan had backfired so hard it made the Drakes look like fools.
And their name, once spoken with reverence, had now become the butt of jokes.
Even Drake juniors, once known for arrogance and swagger, found themselves trapped indoors under strict house arrest. Every time they stepped outside, all eyes fell on them like daggers dipped in mockery.
It stung a lot now considering that these were the same people who eyed them with respect and fear before.
And they hated it.
"Damn it!" roared one young scion in the training yard, his aura flaring. "All this because of some wrinkled old fossil?! He's supposed to be one foot in the grave!"
"I swear," another growled, fists clenched. "Two months. Just two months. That's all it'll take to bury the Leonharts."
"I'm going to train so hard even the worms will be afraid of me."
"Let's go. I want to see their faces when we burn his clan to ash."
The fury of youth was bright and blinding. But it was not unchecked.
From the shadows, senior Drake elders watched the situation unfold with satisfaction.
"They've got fire," one murmured.
"And pride. As it should be," said another elder stroking his white beard.
Meanwhile, the ten-carriage "compensation" reached the Leonhart estate in a blaze of spectacle. Gold-plated wheels with Spirit-infused security. Dozens of crates bearing rare herbs, high-grade artifacts, and valuable spirit ores.
Leonhart cultivators seeing the compensation gawked openly.
"By the heavens... these ten carts alone might be worth more than three years of clan trade revenue!"
"Do you see that? Even the crate frames are made of Purple Spiritwood... that stuff costs thousands of points a foot!"
"And the Drakes handed this over willingly... because of Ancestor Leo!"
The Drakes had moved in broad daylight.
It was the safest way to transfer wealth without being robbed. Any large-capacity storage artifact capable of holding this much would itself be priceless. No family would risk losing one, not even the Drakes.
And so, the Leonharts celebrated.
They hadn't just won a war. They'd gained public momentum. Respect and Glory.
This was the pride of being Leonhart.
What most didn't know, however, was the truth behind the Drakes' generosity.
It wasn't fear of retaliation but a carefully planned strategy.
This "compensation" wasn't a surrender. It was an investment one they planned to reclaim with interest.
They were betting everything on a prophecy.
The SkyCloud Sect had delivered a secret message 3 weeks ago, courtesy of one of their elders who specialized in fate divination:
"Leo Leonhart's vitality is burning out. The flames of his life will flicker out in less than three months."
To the Drakes, that meant one thing:
Two months from now, the Leonharts would be defenseless.
Why not buy goodwill now, avoid suspicion... and when the time came, take it all back?
"We'll reclaim every artifact," Brandon Drake had told his council. "And every drop of spirit ore. Along with their clan's heads."
"They think they've won. Let them enjoy this short moment of glory."
What none of them knew... was that the prophecy no longer held true.
Leo Leonhart had awakened the Legacy System.
He was ascending again quietly, and with unstoppable momentum
Finally when the Drakes came knocking... they would find a monster waiting for them.
A Month Later
The days ticked by.
Blazecity enjoyed a rare season of peace.
No skirmishes. No blood feuds. Even the normally unruly merchant guilds played nice. It was as if the entire city was holding its breath waiting for something.
Those in power could sense it clearly.
A storm was brewing.
And yet, in a quiet cultivation chamber beneath the Leonhart estate, one young woman was completely unfazed.
Lyra Leonhart sat cross-legged, a faint blue flame flickering in her palm. Her eyes shimmered with a soft golden glow indicating residue of the powerful pills she had refined and absorbed over the last week.
Her blood pulsed with strength and her spirit surged with confidence.
Then, in one smooth motion, her aura snapped forward.
BOOM.
A ripple of spiritual force exploded outward her body, contained only by the reinforced barriers of the alchemy chamber.
"Bone Stage. Level One," Lyra whispered. "I did it."
Her lips curled upward. "Now... I can attempt Grade-2 pills."
Her eyes gleamed not with arrogance, but with determination.
She had seen the world change around her. She had watched the clan transform as well as had witnessed their enemies plot and scheme.
But Lyra didn't care for politics or power plays.
She had one purpose in life:
To stand tall behind her Ancestor and prove that the path of the cauldron could shake the heavens.