The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2465 Tricking the Dark Blood Kingdom (I)

Cain initiated his search inside Aerion's soul for the core principles underlying the Power of Karma.

In typical situations, this kind of attempt would serve no purpose. Even should Cain acquire a full and thorough comprehension of Aerion's karmic powers, such knowledge by itself would remain ineffective. Absent Aerion's Ancestor Drop, replicating the power was out of the question.

It resembled grasping the concept of fire without access to oxygen, or attaining flawless mastery of sword techniques while armed merely with a bow.

Should Cain ingest that drop, it would merely bolster his personal lineage instead of bestowing the distinctive traits of someone else's.

Nevertheless... miracles could always occur.

"The odds of succeeding are slim," Cain whispered to himself. "Yet attempting it costs me nothing."

Showing no pity or delay, he proceeded to pull out the pieces of Aerion's soul holding the core of his Ancestral Power. These pieces were meticulously isolated and guided toward Cain's spiritual center.

The harm escalated swiftly.

Fissures extended further across Aerion's soul framework, and the Quietus Force's steadying effect started to quiver from the pressure. Evidently, maintaining this rate would soon shatter the soul beyond recovery.

Luckily, Cain had secured the essentials—the basic structure and rules dictating Aerion's ancestral power. Choosing caution over rashness, he halted his actions.

Next, he directed his focus to the extensive archive of data

concerning the Soul Eternal Realm. He systematically took in military organizations, command hierarchies, strength rankings, and hidden procedures.

Once he had collected enough, he retracted his influence, granting Aerion's soul a short respite.

At that point, Cain at last focused on the Dark Blood Ring.

He extended a thread of his awareness into it.

"Scarlet King!"

As soon as the link formed, a raging voice burst forth in the mental channel. The commanding tone and fury made the speaker's identity unmistakable.

The Dark Blood King.

His words pressed on, icy and unrelenting.

"Shirking your obligations and deserting your role as a General in the Dark Blood Kingdom constitutes a severe offense. Head to the capital at once, or face branding as a traitor."

The message concluded.

No extra warnings followed. No efforts to convince. No added details.

The directive was straightforward.

Go back to the capital and submit to judgment for defying General Fausto's commands.

Or decline—and get pursued like prey.

The Dark Blood King remained an entity Cain couldn't challenge head-on. Provoking his ire posed a deadly risk.

However, rather than dread, a wave of exhilaration surged through Cain's chest.

All events were progressing precisely as he had anticipated.

He let the excitement build briefly before reining it in. His features grew resolute, his stare steady and dignified—the visage of one prepared to atone for his transgressions.

Without pause, Cain launched skyward.

His form turned into a trail of red brilliance, streaking toward the Dark Blood Kingdom's capital akin to a plummeting comet.

He refrained from calling the Royal Guard. He journeyed solo.

This choice stemmed not from worry over their safety.

Paradoxically, for all their savagery and thirst for blood, Blutlinie individuals seldom targeted the kin or followers of foes. This forbearance arose not from chivalry or ethics. It was merely deemed wasteful.

Blood ties held scant value among the Blutlinie.

Siblings slew siblings. Offspring overthrew sires. Vast

empires had risen from familial carnage.

Emotional ties represented frailties their race had discarded ages ago.

The true motive for Cain's solitary trip was far more straightforward.

Velocity.

The subterranean hideout lay close to the capital. Within under six hours, Cain breached the perimeter barriers and

reached the metropolis.

Upon entry, he sensed it immediately.

Intense stares fixed upon him from various angles.

"They've all been expecting me," Cain reflected.

His outer demeanor stayed poised and grave. Internally,

though, the exhilaration heightened.

He sped toward the enormous fortress at the city's core

and strode in promptly, making directly for the grand chamber where

the War Council had convened before.

On this occasion, the group was already in place.

Present to receive him were the Dark Blood King, General Fausto, General Averus, the Heartcram King, and the Evernight Queen.

As Cain crossed the threshold, a crushing aura inundated the room.

The Dark Blood King's emanation bore down like an infinite void. Reality appeared to warp. Moments dragged, as though Cain was drawn into a maelstrom where being might vanish entirely.

Cain's brow furrowed mildly under the assault on his form and

spirit.

Yet his gaze stayed keen.

Fear was absent from it.

Noticing this, the Dark Blood King's eyes tightened.

After a pause, the suffocating pressure lifted, but the fury in his tone stayed vehement.

"In the battles, wars, and intrigues ahead in the months and years, this realm will face turmoil. All Generals serving me must grasp the duties tied to their might and rank."

His stare fixed on Cain.

"Disregard for directives and disruption of command lines make one not just ineffective, but a burden. And burdens have no place in my domain."

Once done, General Fausto advanced.

"Your prowess is beyond doubt," the serpentine Royal Blutlinie stated evenly. "However, might by itself falls short. We require leaders who obey, collaborate, and bolster our troops' cohesion."

His look intensified.

"You fail to meet that standard."

He halted momentarily before resuming in a chillier voice.

"Currently, the wisest step is to strip you of all you hold—your rank, your assets, your status, your essence—and bestow them upon another. That person might lack your strength, yet he would serve within the ranks, not against them."

Cain surveyed the assembly.

General Averus displayed zero response, his face remote and apathetic, as if Cain's outcome meant nothing to him. The Heartcram King, by contrast, openly revealed his pleasure.

A subtle grin played on his lips.

Regarding the Evernight Queen, she appeared disengaged, her eyes wandering, evidently detached from any ruling to come. Cain might have voiced his thoughts.

He could have defended himself, clarified his choices, or sought to sway the proceedings through shrewd rhetoric and intricate plots.

Instead, he merely lifted his arm.

With a surge of energy, reality twisted at his side. And Aerion's form materialized before the gathered council.