Chapter 172: The Joint Council

Chapter 171: The Joint Council

The Joint Council Hall sat like a gray iron bastion at the center of the neutral territory.

Four colossal pillars of white jade rose thirty paces toward a vaulted ceiling inlaid with constellation charts. Each pillar was etched with the ancestral sigil of one of the ruling houses: a coiling frost dragon for the Glacial Spirit Sect, an unyielding sword phantom for Myriad Sword, a spiraling tempest for Azure Wind, and a jagged lightning bolt for Heavenly Thunder.

At the center of the flagstones rested an obsidian conference slab, smooth as black glass. Four heavy high-backed chairs surrounded it, occupied by the four sovereigns of Country B.

The atmosphere was dense, cold, and strictly business.

Estelle Argon dropped the latest sheaf of parchment onto the glass surface. "Eight children across four administrative districts. And not a single track."

"Seven earlier reports, now joined by the boy from Willowbrook Village," Lemo Drackar rumbled, leaning forward. His broad forearms rested against the stone, blue sparks occasionally jumping across his knuckles. "Different settlements, different bloodlines, different families. There is no visible correlation."

Roan Blackwood turned a page between two calloused fingers. "Did the tracking hounds or scouts pick up anything beyond the village boundaries?"

"Nothing," Vaelric Ashford answered, his voice level. "No scent trails, no signs of dragged heels, no snapped twigs, and zero residual Qi. To an untrained eye, they simply evaporated into thin air."

Roan let the report fall. "Then we don’t jump to the conclusion of a simple slave ring. Mortal bandits cannot leave a crime scene cleaner than an empty room."

"Whatever took them, eight families are left staring at empty beds," Estelle said, her sharp eyes fixing across the table. "A Tier One designation was the correct call. We cannot treat this as runaway children."

"We won’t," Vaelric agreed. "Which is why we divide the perimeter. One sect cannot cover the entire southern border alone."

He tapped the map pinned to the center of the black stone.

"Roan, the Myriad Sword Sect will take physical logistics. Examine the topography of every disappearance. Search for concealed movement arts, subterranean pathways, or physical misdirection that standard scouts would miss."

"Done," Roan said.

"Lemo," Vaelric turned to the thunder sovereign. "Your disciples will run spiritual sweeps across the affected valleys. If the perpetrator used a high-tier cloaking talisman or an obscure concealment art, your lightning cultivators are best equipped to force the Qi resonance to surface."

"Consider it handled," Lemo grunted.

"Estelle, your branch will coordinate mortal communications. Cross-examine the families, village chiefs, and local guards. Trace the lineages of all eight children—see if there is a dormant constitution or common ancestral origin connecting them."

Estelle gathered the records, nodding once. "Definitely."

"And the Glacial Spirit Sect?" Roan asked.

"We will investigate the formation leylines," Vaelric said. "The land has changed since the Ancient Palace fell. Ancient arrays are waking up across the mountains.

We need to know if an old sacrificial circle has been revived beneath our feet."

He looked at each of them in turn.

"Any lead, no matter how minor, goes into the Joint Intelligence Ledger immediately. No holding cards close to the chest. If this is a rogue faction testing our border, we crush them together."

Estelle stood, her wind-patterned robes catching the draft from the high windows. "Let’s make sure we bring those children back alive."

The four leaders rose in unison.

The net had been cast.

——————————

[Glacial Spirit Sect — Dueling Grounds]

CLANG!

Two steel blades met with an ear-splitting crack in the center of the raised dueling ring.

Blue Qi flared across the edge of the steel. The broader of the two disciples shifted his back foot, twisting his hips to drive a heavy downward cleave.

His opponent didn’t meet the brute force head-on. He angled his blade by two inches, letting the heavy strike slide harmlessly down his fuller, then pumped Qi into his ankles.

WHOOSH.

He slipped behind the broader youth’s guard, sweeping his flat steel toward the exposed ribs.

The heavy swordsman yanked his hilt back frantically, barely catching the blow.

BOOM!

The collision threw both disciples sliding backward across the chalked stone, their boots carving lines through the fine snow.

"Hold!" the instructor barked from the sideline. "Reset!"

The two youths dropped their stances, panting heavily.

"You’re bleeding Qi," the instructor snapped, tapping the broader disciple’s chest with a bamboo rod. "You coated the entire blade with energy when you only needed edge-reinforcement. And you chased his retreat blindly instead of claiming the ring’s center. Next pair!"

At the edge of the stone balustrade, Lothe leaned his hip against the railing, his arms folded loosely into the wide sleeves of his navy tunic.

Beside him, Seana stood with the sheathed Blood Moon Sword resting comfortably across her shoulder.

"The heavy blade got greedy after the initial parry," Seana remarked, her eyes following the retreating disciples. "He had the leverage to pin him to the edge, but he overcommitted."

Lothe glanced sideways at her. "He had the advantage for exactly half a second. The moment he leaned forward, his center of gravity was already dead."

"And you would have stepped inside his elbow."

"I would have broken his elbow and taken his sword," Lothe said mildly.

Seana let out a quiet scoff, nudging his ribs with her elbow. "Look at you. Just some few days and you’re already acting like a grandmaster."

"Someone has to provide quality commentary."

"Keep talking, Little Fox. I’ll drag you onto the platform and test that newly forged core myself."

Lothe raised an eyebrow. "Against me? That seems like an unnecessary risk to your pride."

"My pride is fine," she shot back, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Your ribs might not be."

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the timber post.

On the platform, the next pair of disciples engaged, their blades clattering in rapid succession. But Lothe’s gaze had already drifted past the training ring, looking toward the distant mountain gate that marked the exit of the Ashford estate.

"We should move out soon," Lothe said.

Seana’s playful tone softened.

She looked in the same direction, her hand resting resting on her back.

"Yeah," she murmured. "We’ve stayed long enough."

Her breakthrough to the Core Formation Realm had stabilized, but every quiet moment reminded her of the real reason she had journeyed to Country B in the first place: her family. Her father.

Sitting behind the safe, snowy walls of the Glacial Spirit Sect wasn’t going to bring her any closer to him. The world beyond the gates was raw, dangerous, and shifting rapidly after the fall of the palace. That was where the answers were.

"One condition," Seana said, turning back to him with a sharp, vibrant spark in her eyes.

"Name it."

"If we run across a high-tier ruin on the road, we don’t walk around it."

Lothe sighed. "And if it’s crawling with Level 6 and 7 Spiritual beast or Demonic beast?"

"Then we’ll be careful."

"And if it’s an ancient death trap left by a lunatic?"

"Then we’ll be extremely careful."

Lothe shook his head, though a small smile touched his mouth. "Your tactical logic continues to astound me."

"It gets results." She tilted her chin up. "Besides, a future grand sovereign can’t spend his youth hiding behind tea pavilions."

Lothe blinked. "A future grand sovereign? Is that what we’re calling me now?"

"Don’t flatter yourself," she said, giving his shoulder another light shove. "I was talking about myself."

Before Lothe could reply, a soft rustle of silk sounded along the stone steps behind them.

"Lothe. Seana."

Both turned.

Nyren stood at the entrance of the terrace, dressed in immaculate silver-and-white robes, her expression cool and collected.

Seana let her sword rest flat. "Miss Nyren. Something wrong?"

"A courier arrived from the Arbitration Hall an hour ago," Nyren said, stepping up to the balustrade. "Eight children have vanished from settlements along the southern border. The most recent was taken from Willowbrook Village last night."

Lothe’s easy expression vanished, replaced by the quiet, analytical focus he had worn during the palace battle. "Eight? Any signs of forced entry?"

"None," Nyren answered. "No footprints, no broken locks, and no identifiable Qi residue. The local cultivators found only the child’s discarded toy."

Seana’s brows drew together. "Not even residual spiritual friction? Even if someone uses a high-grade displacement talisman, space doesn’t fold without leaving a ripple."

"Which is why it was escalated directly to Tier One," Nyren said. "The Four Great Sects are mobilizing regional teams to investigate. My father believes an unregistered formation or an ancient art may be involved."

Seana looked down at the courtyard, her jaw tightening. "Eight children... Their families must be losing their minds."

"The border districts are already panicked," Nyren added. "The councils have ordered curfews, but until the method of abduction is identified, guards are simply standing watch over empty rooms."

Before either Lothe or Seana could ask more, a sharp chime cut through the air.

Nyren paused, opening her left palm.

A tiny point of white frost light materialized above her palm, unfolding into a glowing script of characters:

[DIRECTIVE: INNER COUNCIL]

[COMMAND: RETURN TO THE MAIN PAVILION IMMEDIATELY.]

[ISSUED BY: GENERAL VAELRIC]

Nyren closed her hand, extinguishing the frost glyphs. "My father is summoning me."

"Did he give a reason?" Seana asked.

"No. Only that it takes immediate precedence." Nyren inclined her head toward both of them. "Excuse me."

She turned and departed with swift, measured strides, her white cloak trailing behind her like a pale shadow.

The dueling grounds returned to the rhythmic clatter of practice swords.

Lothe watched her vanish down the corridor, his fingers tapping a slow tempo against the wooden rail. "Whatever that summons is about, it’s not a standard military drill."

"You think it’s connected to the children?" Seana asked, her voice quiet.

"Maybe. Or maybe the world is getting louder than we expected." Lothe looked at her, his expression easing back into something warmer. "All the more reason to settle our supplies tonight."

Seana looked at him, the worry in her face softening as she slipped her fingers into his. "You’re sure you’re ready to leave? The physicians still look at you like you’re made of cracked glass."

"I’ve survived eighteen bolts of heavenly lightning, my love," Lothe murmured, squeezing her hand. "A long walk through the mountains won’t kill me."

Seana smiled, resting her shoulder against his arm as they watched the snow drift over the training grounds below.

"Good," she whispered. "Because if you slow me down, I’m leaving you on the road."

"You wouldn’t dare."

"Try me."?