CHAPTER 224: THE BREACH

BOOM!!!

The massive iron doors slammed against the stone walls with a violent BOOM that echoed across the vast hall.

Everyone in the chamber — the shadowed elders, the watching envoys, even Aurelian Dorne himself — turned sharply toward the entrance.

Hutton’s pulse froze mid-beat.

Heavy footsteps approached.

Two figures were shoved inside by Dorne family guards — pushed so hard they stumbled across the polished floor and nearly fell face-first beneath the harsh white spotlight.

Hutton’s eyes widened.

His breath hitched.

His body went numb.

Timothy.

And Hughes.

Both looked like broken animals.

Timothy’s clothes were shredded, his left eye bruised shut, his once-orderly hair matted with dried blood.

Hughes was worse — limping, his shoulder dislocated, his face gaunt from days of interrogation and fear.

The guards shoved them to their knees.

Aurelian’s voice sliced through the air:

"Bring in the natural traitors."

Timothy lifted his head slowly... painfully...

and when his gaze met Hutton’s, something inside him shattered.

His lips trembled.

His pupils tightened.

He looked like he wanted to curl into himself and disappear.

He whispered, voice hoarse and barely audible:

"...H-Hutton?"

Hutton’s heart clenched — not in pity, not in mercy...

...but in a fury so sharp it sang like a blade.

Aurelian Dorne stepped closer, his presence choking the air.

"These two insects have served their purpose," he announced, gesturing dismissively toward Timothy and Hughes.

"The master they worked for is dead. Their information has run dry. Their usefulness has ended."

Timothy flinched at every word.

Hughes lowered his head, shaking.

Aurelian continued:

"But before disposing of them, I decided to let them witness the fate of the man who made their treachery meaningless."

He turned toward Hutton.

"Your fate."

Timothy suddenly jerked upright, panic exploding through him.

"No—! No, listen! I didn’t— They forced— I only betrayed because—"

A leather-wrapped staff slammed into his ribs with a sickening CRACK.

He fell to the floor, gasping.

Another guard kicked Hughes across the jaw.

The hall watched in silence.

Timothy coughed blood, struggling, shaking... until he finally looked up again.

Not at Aurelian, not at Hughes...

But at Hutton.

His voice broke.

"I’m sorry," he whispered. "Taylor— Hutton— whatever name you go by now— I’m sorry. I swear... I swear I didn’t want to kill you back then. I swear—"

Hutton’s jaw tightened.

His fingers dug into the restraints until they throbbed white.

All the memories — the betrayal, the ambush, the downfall of his regiment — flooded through him like fire.

Aurelian stepped between them, blocking Timothy’s broken rambling.

"Do not embarrass yourself further," the World Class patriarch said coldly. "You are weak. You are cowardly. And like all tools, you are discarded once broken."

Timothy trembled violently.

Hughes swallowed hard, silent, resigned.

Aurelian turned toward his assembly.

"Witness, all of you, how betrayal consumes itself. The past life of this reincarnated being—" he gestured at Hutton "—has begun to surface... and it seems his sins are not his alone."

He turned fully to Hutton, eyes burning with icy cruelty.

"These two knew him in his previous existence... which makes them perfect offerings for the truth we seek."

The hall went quiet.

Every shadow leaned closer.

Aurelian raised a hand.

At that signal, two guards drew serpent-thin blades glowing with sealing inscriptions... and stepped toward Timothy and Hughes.

Timothy’s face drained of all color.

Hughes clenched his teeth, bracing himself.

And Hutton—

Hutton felt something ignite deep in his nascent soul.

A spark.

A fury.

A rising storm of qi that rattled the very restraints burying him.

Aurelian noticed.

He smirked.

"Ah. Rage. Good. Let it burn."

He lowered his hand—

The blades rose—

Timothy screamed—

Hutton roared inside his mind—

And then—

BOOOOOOM.

The entire hall shook violently.

Dust rained from the ceiling.

A shockwave blew across the chamber, extinguishing several lanterns and plunging half the room into deeper darkness.

Every elders jumped to their feet.

Aurelian’s eyes widened.

The guards froze mid-strike.

From the enormous doors behind Timothy and Hughes...

a force — powerful, immense, terrifying — pressed like a tidal wave into the hall.

Hutton felt it.

Timothy felt it.

Aurelian felt it.

Everyone felt it.

Someone — or something — had just arrived.

And its aura...

Doesn’t belong to no ordinary human, as a femininely voice rang out across the hall "Seems like we came right on time, now we would like to take what belongs to my little sis."

-----

Several hours ago....

A jet cut through the night sky like a silent blade, no insignias, no identification, not even a registered flight path. Everything about this operation was off the books.

Ling Fei sat by the reinforced window, fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. She hadn’t spoken in almost an hour—not since they watched the broadcast showing Hutton, unconscious, being dragged into an armored Dorne convoy.

Across from her sat Ling Xia, her expression unreadable. Her posture was straight, composed, and dangerous in that quiet way only people who commanded nations understood.

This was no ordinary woman.

Ling Xia was one of China’s most discreet—but most powerful—government operatives. She held a clearance level above generals, diplomats, and ministers... combined.

And at her command sat the Silent Division, China’s most secretive elite unit, created to handle threats the world was never supposed to know existed.

Tonight, they were heading to U.S. soil.

Illegally.

Quietly.

Quickly.

And decisively.

All to retrieve one man.

Hutton Maxwell.

Ling Fei’s voice finally broke through the heavy silence.

Suddenly, Ling Fei muttered while shaking "Xia... what if we’re late?"

Ling Xia didn’t look up from the encrypted tablet she was studying.

"We won’t be. The Dorne family wants him alive. They need his knowledge and the God Crystal. They will restrain him, not kill him... yet."

Ling Fei exhaled shakily. Her spiritual flame flickered around her body before stabilizing.

"I should never have let him leave China..."

"You didn’t let him. He made a choice. Now we’re making ours."

The plane’s onboard officer approached and bowed.

"Director Ling Xia, we have received confirmation. The Silent Division team is already positioned outside Washington DC. They await your command."

Ling Xia finally shut the tablet off.

Her eyes—usually calm—were razor sharp.

"Instruct them to prepare for breach. No casualties unless necessary. I will not start a war on foreign soil... but I will end a threat on foreign soil."

The officer nodded and rushed off.

Ling Fei swallowed nervously.

Even she had only seen Ling Xia like this once—during an international incident involving a rogue cultivator. Entire buildings were leveled. Governments found excuses to explain the crater.

Ling Fei stared at her elder sister.

"How many did you bring?"

Ling Xia didn’t hesitate.

"Thirty."

Ling Fei’s breath caught.

Thirty was not a small number.

Because the Silent Division was not made of regular cultivators.

Each operative was hand-selected, trained under Ling Xia personally, and conditioned to fight in absolute darkness, silence, or chaos.

They were the kind of people governments denied existed.

"If thirty Silent Division members are deployed... then this is officially—"

"An international catastrophe."

She looked out the window, eyes cold.

"But Hutton Maxwell is not dying on American soil. Not while it has something to do with my precious little sister."

---

2 hours later at Washington DC....

A disguised diplomatic vehicle slid to a halt at the edge of an abandoned industrial zone on the outskirts of the city.

The Silent Division agents—faces masked, movements controlled, auras suppressed to the point of invisibility—surrounded them like shadows.

The commanding officer stepped forward.

"Director Ling Xia. Lady Fei. We’ve identified the Dorne family’s underground facility."

Ling Xia nodded.

"Status of the target?"

"Alive. But restrained. Torture likely started."

Ling Fei’s aura flared with barely contained rage.

The commander continued.

"And there’s more. Two additional captives were just brought in. Unknown males, but they seem to be linked with Hutton negatively."

Ling Fei’s jaw tensed.

"Timothy and Hughes..."

Ling Xia tapped her earpiece.

"Positions."

Thirty shadows vanished into the night.

"Fei. Stay calm."

"I will."

"No. You won’t. But try."

She placed a hand on Ling Fei’s shoulder as she muttered quietly.

"We go in together."

The Dorne underground base was a fortress:

Anti-cultivator barriers.

Mana-locking walls.

Armed operatives at every corner.

It didn’t matter.

The Silent Division moved like executioners of the night.

One by one, perimeter guards collapsed silently.

Camera feeds cut out.

A barrier core fizzled and short-circuited.

A lockdown was triggered—but too late.

The final reinforced door to the great hall stood tall and impenetrable.

Ling Xia raised two fingers.

"Breach."

The Silent Division unleashed a concentrated aura burst—

—BOOOOOOOOM!

The door didn’t just break.

It evaporated.

Smoke rushed in.

Alarms screamed.

Dorne elite members and other elders stumbled back in shock—

And Ling Fei and Ling Xia stepped in like two incarnations of fury itself.

Her eyes locked onto the center of the hall.

There he was.

Hutton..

conscious, strapped to a reinforced chair.

And next to him—

Timothy and Hughes, chained, bruised... discarded.

Ling Fei’s heart stopped.

Her fire roared to life.

"Hutton..."

Ling Xia’s face hardened.

"Seems like we came right on time, now we would like to take what belongs to my little sis."