A month passed quietly.
Since Leo began his closed-door training, rebuilding his strength and studying the War Codex, the Leonhart Clan had fallen completely silent.
But outside the clan, the noise was just beginning.
Whispers spread through Blazecity like wildfire:
"The Leonhart patriarch failed to break through.""He's dying—lost his strength.""The clan's finished."
At first, no one took it seriously. It wasn't the first time rumors circled around the strong. Normally, someone from the Leonhart Clan would step forward and shut the rumors down.
But this time… no one did.
No announcements. No appearances. No denial.
To the rest of the city, that silence was confirmation.
And once doubt took root, it grew fast.
The streets near the Leonhart estate became quieter. Merchants started avoiding their trade routes. Even neutral powers began to distance themselves.
Behind the scenes, powerful groups began to move.
Far to the north of the city, in the mountain stronghold of the Drake Clan, a group of men stood inside a grand hall. Each one gave off a heavy, pressuring aura—Core Break experts, the top powerhouses in Blazecity.
At the front stood the Drake Clan leader, Brandon Drake.
His gaze was calm but cold as he looked out the massive glass window toward the city below.
"So," he said slowly, "Leo really has reached his end."
Another elder behind him nodded.
"It lines up with the report from our boy. That old man has lost most of his power. His time is almost up."
"And we owe it all to the young master," another elder chuckled. "Without his warning, we would've never guessed Leo was so close to dying."
They all smiled.
"That's what happens when you don't have a background to rely on."
"How's the situation with the Storm family?" Brandon asked.
"Still hesitating. But they know they're cornered. After all, our young master is now a personal disciple of a Soul Stage elder from the Skycloud Sect. What choice do the Storms have?"
That name—Skycloud Sect—carried weight.
Brandon's son, Gavin Drake, was the most talented warrior the clan had ever produced. Born with the rare Skysteel Body, he was a true prodigy. After years of secret training, he reached the Muscle Stage by eighteen, even mastering seven-tenths of a rare blade technique.
Just weeks ago, the Drakes sent him to the Skycloud Sect, a Tier-5 power. Within days, Gavin caught the eye of a powerful elder and became his personal disciple.
With that backing, the Drake Clan's ambitions soared.
"Now's the perfect time," said one elder. "The Leonharts are crumbling. The Storms are weak. Soon, Blazecity will belong to us."
At that moment, a messenger ran into the room, out of breath.
"Patriarch Brandon! A sealed message from the Storm family!"
Brandon waved his hand. The heavy doors swung open with a click. A glowing message scroll flew into his hand. With a twist of his fingers, he broke the seal and read.
Then… he smiled.
"Pass the word. We move ahead with the plan."
The scroll floated into the air. The other elders scanned it in a flash and all nodded.
"As you command, Patriarch."
Without another word, the Core Break elders left the hall, vanishing one by one into the shadows of the mountain.
Only Brandon remained.
He stood still, arms crossed behind his back, eyes on the vast city below.
"Blazecity… you resisted long enough."
He opened his arms wide, as if embracing the view.
"Leo… You forced your way into this city with raw strength. But strength fades."
"Now that your body is failing and your clan is weak—what can you possibly do?"
He let out a low laugh that echoed through the empty hall.
Elsewhere in the city, the Storm Clan wasn't celebrating.
Inside their ancestral hall, the mood was grim.
Thomas Storm, the current clan leader, sat at the head of a round stone table. Around him were his most trusted elders—all old, all weathered, all carrying the weight of fading glory.
"There was a time we ruled this city," one elder muttered. "Now we're beneath the Drakes… and the Leonharts before that."
"Regret won't help us," another said quietly. "We don't have the strength anymore."
"The Skycloud Sect is no joke," someone else added. "One elder from that sect could wipe out this entire city with a flick of his fingers. We can't afford to provoke them."
Thomas didn't speak right away.
He stared at the burning incense, letting the silence hang.
"We've built this clan over centuries. We can't just abandon it and run."
"Even if we leave, where would we go? Other cities already have their own rulers. And we'd be outsiders with no support."
"Without resources or trade, we'd collapse in a decade anyway."
The elders nodded, their faces bitter.
They had no good choices left.
But Thomas had already taken precautions.
"Send out the fireseeds," he said at last. "Get our younger generation out through the hidden routes. If we fall… they will rebuild."
The elders bowed.
Once the room was empty, Thomas looked up at the carved ceiling—painted with the faces of the Storm Clan's founders.
"Forgive me," he whispered. "This is all I can do."
But none of them knew…
That everything they said, every move they made, was already seen.
Leo was watching.
He had ended his seclusion two weeks ago, not long after rumors of his "death" exploded across the city. But instead of stepping forward, he stayed hidden—training in silence and watching the city carefully.
And what he saw… confirmed everything.
Inside the inner gardens of the Leonhart estate, Leo sat beneath a twisting old tree, calmly breathing in the faint spiritual energy in the air.
His eyes were closed, but his senses were wide open.
He had changed more in a month than most cultivators did in a decade.
The War Codex had already replaced his old technique. Two core martial skills and one movement technique had taken root in his body. Though he'd only grasped the basics, each was powerful enough to overwhelm normal Core Break fighters.
His cultivation realm was now Transcendent Stage 4, but with his Heaven-Touched Physique, his actual strength rivaled Stage 7.
"The city thinks I'm dying," Leo muttered, a faint smile on his lips. "Let them believe it a little longer."
"When I move... it won't be to defend."
"It will be to dominate."
He opened his eyes. The wind rustled through the leaves.