CHAPTER 304: RITUAL OF LOYALTY 2

Lucas set the vials aside and rose from his chair. The crippled grandmaster followed him with his eyes, nervous, excited and overwhelmed all at once. Lucas extended his hand, and the silver-blue rune from before expanded, spreading into a faint glowing sigil that hovered in the air between them. Its intricate patterns shifted like living frost.

"Hold out your hand," Lucas instructed.

The old man obeyed without hesitation. His fingers trembled, not from fear this time, but from anticipation so fierce it bordered on desperation.

"This ritual won’t bind your body," Lucas said calmly. "It won’t control your will. It will only tie your loyalty to my cause. To Valerion. To me. You will still think, choose and act freely. But when the moment comes... you will never waver. Not even against death."

The grandmaster nodded again and again. "Young master... I would have given that without a ritual. But I understand. After what I once was... you should have your guarantees."

Lucas didn’t respond. He simply pressed his palm against the old man’s.

The sigil between them flared.

A pulse of cold, silent power surged through both of them. It was not painful, only heavy...like a solemn vow being carved quietly into the fabric of their souls. The grandmaster gasped as the rune sank into his skin, traveling from his hand to his chest before dissipating like mist.

When it settled, Lucas withdrew his hand.

"It is done," he said.

The grandmaster staggered a step back, breathing hard. He could feel it...an anchor, a certainty, a new purpose that settled in his heart like a steady heartbeat. It did not suppress him; it steadied him. It reminded him of who he had chosen to follow.

"Young master..." His voice cracked. "This feeling... I swear to you, not even death will make me falter. I am yours to command."

Lucas nodded, satisfied. He picked up the first vial from the table and placed it in the man’s hands.

"Drink this. And prepare yourself. Once your meridians start to recover, we begin your treatment. You will fight in the war to come, and you will be dangerous again. More than that, you will be useful."

The grandmaster bowed deeply, pressing the vial to his forehead in a gesture of reverence.

"I will not fail you," he said.

Lucas allowed himself the faintest smile.

"I know. That is why I chose to bind you. You once served the usurpers... you knew their formations, their scouts, their stealth techniques, their retreat methods. You know how they think. What they fear. What they anticipate."

The old man swallowed hard, nodding.

"And now," Lucas continued, his eyes sharp, "you will use that knowledge for Valerion. For me. Every tactic they taught you... every dirty method you learned... every weakness you ever saw... I want all of it."

The grandmaster bowed again so deeply his hair brushed the floor.

"You shall have everything I know, young master. Every secret. Every flaw. Every hidden path."

Lucas turned away to begin preparing the next set of potions.

"Good," he said. "Because we’re going to need every advantage. War is coming... and we don’t have the luxury of mercy."

The binding had been done.

The restoration would begin.

And another piece had fallen perfectly into place for the war ahead.

The old man uncorked the vial with trembling fingers. A faint mist drifted from the liquid, carrying a deep medicinal fragrance that made his weakened meridians twitch with anticipation. He hesitated only for a heartbeat before raising it to his lips and swallowing everything in one breath.

The effect was immediate.

A shock of warmth burst through his veins, followed by a rush of cold clarity. His entire body stiffened as if struck by lightning. Then his meridians, which had been dry and brittle for so long, suddenly expanded with a thrum of life. His Dantian, once silent like a sealed tomb, stirred violently.

He gasped.

His knees struck the floor. His fingers clutched his chest. His breath trembled.

For the first time in a long while... he felt alive.

The sensation was overwhelming. His Qi surged sluggishly at first, then faster, unraveling the chains of stagnation. He felt a heat behind his eyes and before he could stop himself, tears streamed down his wrinkled cheeks.

"Y-young master..." His voice broke. "I... I had almost forgotten what this felt like..."

Lucas watched him quietly, expression unreadable, arms folded behind his back.

The grandmaster let out a shaking laugh, half sobbing, half ecstatic. "My meridians... they are waking up... I can feel them opening... I can feel my core responding... I..."

Lucas finally spoke, "Good. That is only the first step. Do not waste the energy. Go...sit, breathe, and start cultivating immediately. Let the potion settle into your Dantian before it disperses."

The old man wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, still shaking.

"Yes... yes, young master. I will not waste this chance. Thank you... thank you..."

Lucas nodded toward the door.

"Go."

The grandmaster bowed so deeply he nearly toppled over. Then he rushed out of the chamber with more strength in his steps than he had possessed in years, his excitement palpable.

Lucas returned to the table where dozens of vials, jars, powders and coded notes lay scattered like the remnants of a mad alchemist’s obsession. The faint lights in his chamber flickered against the glass, casting shifting reflections across the walls. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.

He needed to get this right.

He needed to stay ahead.

War was coming, and ordinary cultivation alone would not be enough. What Valerion and its allies lacked in manpower, he would replace with knowledge from the future and a world no one here had ever imagined.

He picked up a vial of pale crystalline powder and held it against the candlelight. It shimmered dangerously. This was one of his earliest attempts, a rudimentary chemical composition. Now, with his ice affinity stable and his mind clear, he could refine far better.

He set it down.

There were notes he had scribbled months ago. Explosive agents. Smoke compounds. Freezing mixtures. Corrosive gels. Stabilizers for reactions this era was not remotely prepared to understand.

Lucas picked up two vials...one filled with a thick, dark-blue liquid, the other with translucent shards...and shook them gently.

"Too unstable," he muttered to himself, returning them to their stand. "If this ignites prematurely, I’ll level half the palace instead of the battlefield."

He began pulling out ingredients one by one. Minerals crushed into fine dust. Strange herbs used not for their Qi properties but for their chemical volatility. Liquids extracted from scaled beasts that produced violent reactions when exposed to air. Oils that burned hotter than ordinary flame. He arranged them all neatly.

Then he began mixing, slowly, carefully and precisely.

Lucas worked with steady hands, pouring, tilting, stirring, measuring. He adjusted the viscosity of a gel with a small drop of beast bile. He cooled another mixture with his ice affinity until it solidified into a dense cube that hummed with potential force.

He was building things that did not belong in this timeline.

Things that would terrify even seasoned cultivators.

Things the usurpers had no defenses for.

A small spark of frost gathered at his fingertips as he held another vial over a flame, heating it just enough to create separation between its two layers. He watched the top layer turn a silky silver.

"Perfect," he whispered.

He placed the vial in a special case and moved on to the next project. A freezing smoke capsule. A corrosive incendiary. A pressure bomb that could shatter low-grade formation barriers.

On and on he worked, his body calm but his mind sharp as a blade.

These substances would change the battlefield.

They would give Valerion a fighting chance.

And when the war began... the usurpers would learn fear.

Lucas continued arranging his vials, preparing the next blend with a quiet intensity.

The preparations for destruction had begun.