The walk from the Clan Training Square to the East Pavilion was not long, but it felt like a journey between two different worlds. Behind them lay the noise, the shock, and the shattered pride of the Clan Elders. Ahead of them lay silence.
The East Pavilion was the residence of Kaelen's father, the former Clan Genius who had mysteriously died ten years ago. Since then, the clan had locked it up, allowing nature to reclaim it.
Jiara walked beside Kaelen, her steps light and rhythmic. She hummed a soft tune, seemingly unbothered by the fact that she had just offended a powerful Elder for a boy she barely knew.
"You are quiet, little dragon," Jiara said, tilting her head. The veil hid her mouth, but her eyes were crinkled in amusement. "Most boys would be bragging right now. You just humiliated the First Elder's son."
"Noise does not prove strength," Kaelen replied, his gaze fixed on the overgrown path ahead. "And I am not 'most boys'."
"Clearly," Jiara chuckled. "But tell me, how did you know I was watching? Or were you gambling with your life?"
Kaelen stopped. He looked at her. "I wasn't gambling on you. I was gambling on greed. The Violet Gold Pavilion never ignores a potential profit. You saw value in me last night. You wouldn't let your investment die so easily."
Jiara's eyes widened slightly, then she laughed—a genuine, melodious sound. "Ruthless. I like it. You are right, Kaelen. We are merchants. And you... you are a very interesting product."
She tossed a small jade bottle to him.
"Healing pills. For your internal injuries. That palm strike from the Elder didn't hit you, but the pressure alone shook your organs. Don't pretend you are fine."
Kaelen caught the bottle. He didn't say thanks. He just nodded. It was a transaction.
"I will come to collect my debt later," Jiara whispered, her voice fading as she leaped onto a tree branch and vanished into the afternoon shadows. "Don't die before then."
...
Kaelen and Uncle Hwan stood before the gates of the East Pavilion.
The large wooden doors were rotting. Ivy had choked the stone lions guarding the entrance. Spiderwebs hung like thick curtains in the corners. It smelled of dust, mold, and forgotten memories.
"We are home..." Uncle Hwan whispered.
His voice broke. He touched the rotting wood of the gate with a trembling hand. "Master... Mistress... we have returned."
Kaelen watched the old man. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his head.
It wasn't physical pain. It was a memory. Not his memory, but the original Kaelen's memory.
A tall man laughing, lifting a small boy into the air. A gentle woman playing a zither in the garden. The smell of jasmine tea.
The emotions of the dead boy surged up, mixing with the soul of the Emperor. Grief. Longing. Love.
Kaelen placed a hand on his chest. 'Rest,' he told the remnant soul within him. 'I will honor them for you.'
He pushed the gates open. Creeaaak.
The courtyard was a mess. Weeds grew waist-high. The pond was dried up. But the main structure of the house stood strong, defiant against the ravages of time.
"I will clean it!" Hwan said immediately, rolling up his sleeves, his face filled with renewed purpose. "I will scrub the floors. I will fix the roof. The Young Master cannot live in a pigsty!"
"We will do it together, Uncle," Kaelen said, grabbing a broom from the corner.
"No, no! You are the Master!"
"And this is my home," Kaelen said firmly. "A ruler who cannot sweep his own floor cannot sweep away his enemies."
For the next few hours, the "God Emperor" and the old servant worked side by side. They cut the weeds. They scrubbed the grime off the wooden pillars. They lit lanterns to chase away the gloom.
As Kaelen wiped the dust off a large portrait in the main hall, he paused.
The painting showed a handsome man with a sword and a beautiful woman holding a baby. Kaelen's parents.
Kaelen stared at the man's eyes in the painting. They were fierce, confident.
'You were strong,' Kaelen analyzed. 'A Peak Spirit Ocean cultivator. In a small city like this, you should have been invincible. How did you die from a mere "illness"?'
The mystery of his father's death had always been brushed aside by the clan. But looking at the painting, Kaelen felt something was wrong.
His fingers traced the frame of the painting.
Click.
His finger hit a small bump on the back of the frame. A hidden mechanism.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. 'A secret compartment?'
He pressed it. A small drawer popped out from the side of the thick wooden frame.
Inside, there was no gold, no legendary technique manual. There was only a heavy, black iron key and a letter sealed with red wax.
Kaelen took the letter. The paper was old and brittle.
"Uncle," Kaelen called out softly.
Hwan came running from the kitchen, wiping his wet hands. "Yes, Young Master? Did you find something?"
Kaelen hid the key in his sleeve but held the letter. "Did my father ever mention... a 'Visitor' before he died?"
Hwan frowned, thinking hard. "A visitor? No... wait. A month before the Master passed, a man in a grey cloak came. He didn't enter through the front gate. The Master met him in the garden at midnight. They argued. I only heard one word."
"What word?"
"'Eclipse'," Hwan said. "The Master was shouting about an 'Eclipse'."
Kaelen's heart skipped a beat.
In the Divine Realm, five hundred years later, the organization that assassinated him—the one Varian used—was known as the "Order of the Solar Eclipse".
'Could it be?' Kaelen thought, a cold chill spreading through his veins. 'Is my father's death connected to the same people who killed me in my past life? Is this world connected to the Divine Realm?'
He didn't open the letter. Not yet. It was too dangerous. He tucked it into his robe.
"It is nothing, Uncle," Kaelen lied smoothly to protect the old man. "Just an old bill."
...
Night fell. The East Pavilion was clean, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight.
Kaelen sat on the roof, meditating. The Dragon Blood was circulating, repairing his muscles.
Suddenly, he sensed movement at the gate.
It wasn't an assassin. The footsteps were hesitant, light.
Kaelen opened his eyes. "You can come in."
The gate pushed open. A figure in a white cloak stepped into the courtyard. She lowered her hood.
It was Elara.
She held a basket in her hands. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying. She looked at the cleaned courtyard, then up at Kaelen on the roof.
Kaelen jumped down, landing silently like a leaf.
"What do you want?" his voice was indifferent. Not angry, just... empty.
Elara flinched at his tone. She walked forward and placed the basket on a stone table. "I... I brought you some medicine. And some food. I know Uncle Hwan hasn't gone to the market."
"We don't need it," Kaelen said.
"Kaelen, please," Elara's voice trembled. "Don't look at me like that. Like I'm a stranger."
"Aren't you?" Kaelen tilted his head. "When Jareth broke my ribs last month, where were you? When the Clan stopped my allowance, where were you? You were busy training with Garret."
"I did it for us!" Elara cried out, tears spilling over. "I have no background! I am an adopted orphan! If I didn't get close to the First Elder's faction, they would have kicked me out too! I thought... if I became strong, I could protect you."
Kaelen looked at her. He saw the sincerity in her eyes. She wasn't lying. She had compromised her dignity to survive, and in her mind, to help him.
But to the Emperor Valerius, betrayal—even for a "good cause"—was still betrayal.
"You traded your loyalty for safety," Kaelen said softly. "I understand your choice, Elara. The world is cruel. You did what a weak person had to do to survive."
Elara's face brightened with hope. "So you forgive me?"
Kaelen shook his head slowly.
"I don't blame you. But I don't need you."
The words hit her like a physical blow.
"A mirror that is broken can be glued back together," Kaelen said, looking at the moon. "But the reflection will always be distorted. You chose Garret's path. I chose my own."
He pushed the basket back toward her.
"Take this back. I have already eaten Uncle Hwan's bun. It was enough."
Elara stood there, shivering in the night breeze. She looked at the boy she had grown up with. He was standing right there, but he felt a million miles away. He had become something... vast. Something she couldn't reach anymore.
"You will regret this," Elara whispered, wiping her tears. "Garret won't stop. The Elders won't stop. You are alone, Kaelen."
"I am never alone," Kaelen replied, his hand brushing the hidden key in his sleeve.
Elara turned and ran out of the courtyard, her sobs fading into the night.
Kaelen watched her go. He felt a twinge of sadness from the original soul, but he suppressed it.
He turned back to the dark house. The mystery of the "Eclipse," the hidden key, and the upcoming wrath of the First Elder waited for him.
"Now," Kaelen whispered, pulling out the black iron key. "Let's see what you unlock."
He walked towards the abandoned study room of his father, the one room Hwan had said was "forbidden" to enter.
The family drama was over. The true dark fantasy was about to begin.