Legacy of a Benevolent Lord
Chapter 53: Nysalea’s Purpose.

Chapter 53: Nysalea’s Purpose.

"Were- were they looking for me?"

She had been chased by assassins for god knows how many days, and she instinctively thought that this ambush was also her fault.

She was truly guilty inside, thinking it was her fault that she dragged her saviors into this mess.

"Sister Nysalea," Selene called out and walked towards her.

She grabbed her hand and let her lean on herself.

The sword girl was still finding it quite challenging to walk properly.

Her leg tendons were worn out, her hip flexors had been overworked, and her upper body was still covered in bandages... she was clearly going through a lot, but hopefully, she was on the mend.

So... yep. She can’t walk.

"Don’t worry. Your assailants don’t know that you are with us."

Riven: "Mm.. Selene is right. Those fuckers were just my political rivals. They just don’t want another ducal household."

"My lord, if I may have the permission to speak", one of the guards in the vicinity hesitantly stepped forward, with a bow.

"Speak freely. You have my gratitude for protecting Azira", Riven spoke and acknowledged their efforts.

It couldn’t have been an easy feat to stand firm in front of five Innate ascendants, even though they were not targeting them.

The life suppression, although not as potent as Riven’s or Selene’s, was not something ordinary mortal warriors could withstand.

For this point alone, the three had his respect.

"We dare not take my lord’s thanks."

Although their words sounded professional, Riven could feel their heartfelt happiness knowing their courage was acknowledged.

Their future path just got brighter.

"My lord, that man, as you heard me shout earlier, was The General of Gravehold. A fort in the distant lands on the border of Ashenvale. He is not from the south like us.

But the most important thing is that man is a maniac."

Riven raised his eyebrows.

Azira, now cheerful again, dragged a chair for him to sit on, as he destroyed the one he had sat on earlier.

Selene had settled Nysalea on a chair, and she herself was sitting next to her, listening to the conversation intently.

Riven sat down and gestured for him to keep speaking.

"This man is a demon. Not literally, but... he might as well be.

A couple of hundred years ago, this man was a famous rising star in the Ashenvale martial world.

He was also a promising martial warrior of a martial alliance headed by a man called Seyric Dawnward.

The leader, seeing Ravur Dreadmark’s potential, took him as a sworn brother.

However, for some reason, one day, this man killed the leader and his entire family. Some say it was jealousy, while others suggest that he had been bullied and lashed out; however, no one really knows why.

He then, after some time, killed the vice leader, snatching control of the martial alliance. Becoming a fugitive of the law, he was chased by the imperial soldiers from left to right.

From what the rumors say, he had been taken under the minister of wealth in the divine capital. Then transferred to Fort Gravehold for ’repentance’. Nothing was heard about this man after that.

Like he just vanished into the lost memories."

After the man finished speaking, he stepped back in silence, letting Riven think.

Riven furrowed his brows in thought. He tapped his finger on the armrest continuously.

’Riven... the minister of wealth?’

Selene’s thoughts drifted through his mind.

He too was thinking the same. This was a major political figure supporting the Emperor.

Not someone anyone can mess with just like that.

Is this the person grandmother Rosalind wanted to fish out?

Fuck.... We fished out something big...

’It seems like they are not targeting me personally, but the new Innate Seed of Ashvale household.’ Riven transmitted his thoughts back.

Selene: ’We need to let the main household know. The elders will have a solution, right?’

Riven: ’Of course they will. They might even be aware or at least suspecting.’

That was a plausible estimate.

As a royal household, how can they not be aware?

However, the unfortunate thing is that no water is without a bit of mud.

Their household surely has powerful figures who are in favor of his death, whether it was for personal gain or for the resource allocation for their own descendants.

But his grandfather’s sister, who had supported him, had already told him so. She had already told him to be ready and only step into the world of politics if he was ready for the backlash.

Clearly, this was the backlash.

Selene: ’Riven... We need to ascend to Innate. Our divine physiques are almost complete. We need to speed up the progress.’

Riven: ’Alright. Rest for today. We will visit the mountains starting tomorrow and try to find those mystic serpents named Pusiqu. With those creatures’ gallbladder and core, we can gather enough energy to complete the physiques.’

Selene: ’Mm. Okay, I’ll follow you.’

Riven gave her a soft smile and got up to go to the spacious area on the ground level to train.

Time waits for no man.

......

Stoneveil City, outside the Stoneveil Mountains.

This was the stopping place for all wandering swordsmen visiting the Stoneveil Mountains.

To the southeast of the city stood a quiet and solitary inn known as Ten Miles Pavilion.

Once a rest stop for the wealthy traveling martial artists and merchants, it now bore an ominous stillness.

Three days ago, a massacre had taken place surrounding its premises.

The victims had been mutilated beyond recognition, their bodies burned and scattered. Arrows everywhere. Skulls pierced.

Streets had large circular dents.

The walls had cracked, showing signs of collapse.

The main assailant, General Dreadmark, had disappeared.

Blood had soaked into the dirt, leaving behind a silence that seemed to weigh on the air itself.

In the aftermath, the local city lord had moved quickly, dispatching his most capable officers.

The order was clear: no one enters, no one leaves.

For now, the entire station was under lockdown.

And within that hollowed-out space of silence and security, the current sole occupants were none other than Riveron Ashvale and his gang.

Inside one of the upper chambers, the air was heavy with the scent of spirit sandalwood.

Incense curled like pale ghost trails from a bronze burner on the table, drifting lazily through the room and mingling with the soft glow of candlelight.

Upon the neatly arranged bed, Nysalea Nightsilver sat cross-legged, her posture poised, her breathing deep and stable.

Her black gauze veil had been set aside. Pale moonlight filtered in through the lattice window, softening the sharp features of her face and revealing the faintest color returning to her once-drained complexion.

She had been close to death only days ago. Now, after three days of uninterrupted healing and cultivation, her body hummed with recovering strength.

Riven had given her five Minor Recovery Pills when she woke up, scaring Selene Virelyn into incoherent speech.

The Minor Recovery Pill she had taken earlier this morning was working its magic.

Golden streams of pure internal energy coiled through her meridians like heated silk, dissolving remnants of poison, unblocking constricted channels, mending torn muscle fibers.

Each breath she took fed that momentum.

A gentle heat pooled in her lower dantian.

She’s now completed her healing journey, and now her body just needs a little time to rest and relax.

She sat there, overwhelmed by complex emotions, as she hadn’t fully processed the energy that could have helped her heal.

With the remaining energy, her physique continued to advance in her cultivation.

The day she would break through the Sun and Moon veins was fast approaching.

Her eyes fluttered open, twin pools of dark clarity gleaming with restrained excitement.

A small, instinctive smile curved her lips.

Seventeen.

She had only just turned seventeen.

To break through the Sun and Moon veins at this age would place her among the top tier of young martial cultivators in the entire Ashenvale Dynasty.

A genius, no doubt.

Her mother, Neriseth Nightsilver, had reached this same threshold only at twenty, and even then, her meridians remained partially obstructed.

Nysalea exhaled softly.

And fell back on the pillow.

Her fingers reached toward the porcelain medicine bottle resting on her pillow.

She clutched it gently to her chest and stared up at the ceiling, her heart quiet but heavy with emotion.

"If it weren’t for His Highness’s pills... and his people..." she whispered in her mind. "I wouldn’t even have a path forward anymore."

Riveron Ashvale had asked nothing of her. Not a favor. Not a vow. Not a promise.

He had simply helped her. Although it was definitely due to Selene, it still had a profound impact on her.

In a world where help always came with conditions attached, that made him a paradox.

One that left an unfamiliar warmth in her heart. It was terrifying.

She closed her eyes, recalling the warm sensation of leaning against Selene on that day. It felt like she could trust her fully.

And Riven, when she woke up, told her that she was a brave warrior.

For a child trained by an assassin to be an assassin, this was too much...

Her cheeks warmed. She reached up and lightly tapped her face.

"Tsk. Nysalea, what are you even thinking?"

She forced a breath out and shook her head.

"Mother warned you, never trust a man’s kindness."

"You’re here for one reason. To find Mother’s enemy and to take vengeance on Peony Manor."