Legacy of a Benevolent Lord
Chapter 61: Using the Five Hundred year Old Snake...

Chapter 61: Using the Five Hundred year Old Snake...

The wind howled across the cliffs, a mournful wail that seemed to echo the ache in Nysalea’s chest. "Your Highness... Sister... I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice fragile, nearly lost in the gusts that tugged at her veil.

"I thought- The gallbladder would be enough... but- I... I’m sorry."

Each word seared her throat, heavy with the weight of failure.

She had been granted a chance most cultivators would slaughter for.

A path to ascend, to stand among the greats... and yet, she remained rooted, unable to cross that invisible threshold.

Her hands clenched, nails biting into her palms, as shame coiled tighter around her heart.

What did it mean to be worthy?

If she couldn’t seize this moment, how could she face the battles ahead?

Would Riven and Selene always be there, a steady hand to pull her from the abyss?

Could they bear that burden forever?

Her thoughts spiraled downward like dry leaves caught in a relentless whirlpool, dragging her toward a silent, shadowed place where doubt festered.

A voice pierced the haze, sharp and tinged with wonder. "Errmm... babe, did you feel that just now?" Riven’s tone carried a tremor of disbelief, his words hanging in the air like a spark in the dark.

Selene’s response came slowly, measured, as if she were sifting through the implications. "I did. That wasn’t normal. She really is... something else."

Nysalea’s breath caught. What are they talking about?

She blinked, confusion rippling across her face as she lifted her gaze.

Riven and Selene stood before her, their postures slightly hunched, eyes fixed not on her but into her, as if peering through the veil of her existence to some hidden truth.

Riven’s jaw hung slack, astonishment etched into the lines of his face.

Selene’s brow furrowed, her fingers brushing her lips, lost in the puzzle of what they’d sensed.

"I... I don’t understand," Nysalea murmured, her voice trembling.

The question burned in her chest, but before she could form it, Riven dropped to one knee, his movement sudden and unplanned.

He reached for her hands, his fingers warm and firm as they enveloped hers.

He leaned closer... too close, his face mere inches from hers, his breath a soft caress against her lips, warm like a summer breeze over still water.

"Nysalea," he said, his voice low, almost reverent, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath.

"Have you ever felt something you understood without being taught? Like it was woven into your soul, waiting to be uncovered?"

Her lips parted, but words refused to come.

Her mind went blank, not from confusion but from him... his nearness, the weight of his gaze, the way his presence seemed to fill the space around her.

Her pulse quickened, a faint heat rising to her cheeks beneath her veil. She tried to look away, to break the spell, but his closeness rooted her in place, her limbs heavy as stone.

A gentle hand pinched Riven’s cheek, pulling him back. Selene’s touch was light but firm. "Honey, give the girl a moment. You’re practically breathing her air."

Riven blinked, realization dawning.

A grin tugged at his lips, playful and unapologetic, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"Hmmm... sorry, Nysalea," he said, his voice husky, betraying no real remorse. "Didn’t mean to startle you."

Her heart pounded like a war drum, its rhythm echoing in her ears.

Heat flushed her face, burning beneath the edge of her veil. She exhaled shakily, grateful for the space, as Riven leaned back, his grin lingering still.

Selene rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a fond smirk. "Stop flirting, you shameless man."

Riven’s chuckle was low, warm, a ripple of amusement that eased the tension.

He rose, giving Nysalea room to breathe, though his gaze never fully left her.

Selene stepped close. "Sister," she said, her voice soft and warm, like a hearth’s glow.

"As this rogue just asked, have you ever known something instinctively? Like it was already part of you, even without a teacher?"

Nysalea lowered her eyes, her fingers tracing the edge of her veil as she sifted through her memories.

The wind stirred her hair, cool against her flushed skin. "I... yes," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "Swordsmanship. It’s always felt... right. Like my hands knew the blade before I ever held one."

Riven straightened, his posture shifting as if her words had struck a chord. "Did you say sword?"

Selene’s head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing. "Swordsmanship?"

Their gazes locked, a silent exchange charged with unspoken possibility. Sparks seemed to dance between them, their expressions alight with the weight of what they suspected.

"Could it be..." Riven began, his voice trailing into a hush.

"...a Sword Physique?" Selene finished, her tone hushed with awe.

Silence settled over them, heavy and thick, as if the air itself held its breath.

A divine physique... let alone a mythical Sword Physique, was a rarity born of talent, timing, and cosmic fortune.

When Riven and Selene had awakened their own physiques, the heavens had torn open, golden yang energy and glacial blue yin cascading like rivers from a celestial portal.

The region had quaked, witnesses trembling at the sight. If Nysalea carried such a gift...

Riven’s energy surged, a faint crackle beneath his skin as he lost control, his aura spilling out in waves of raw excitement.

He opened his system interface, fingers moving with practiced precision across the unseen panel.

His eyes scanned rapidly, then zoomed in on one crit return.

There it was: the carcass of a five-hundred-year-old Pusiqu snake, a treasure from a Critical Return, its value beyond measure.

He stared at the storage space, his breath steadying.

Releasing it here, in the open, would be reckless.

A two-hundred-year-old snake was massive; this one, at five hundred years, could dwarf a tavern, its presence alone enough to draw every wild eye in the region.

He reined in his aura, the air settling as he turned to Selene and Nysalea, their eyes watching him in quiet anticipation.

"I have an idea," he said, his voice low, resolute. "Let’s return to the inn."

They nodded, no questions asked, their trust in him unspoken but absolute.

Riven signaled to Solwing, his Golden Crowned Immortal Crane, its feathers glinting like jade in the fading light.

The old eagle came hopping towards them, but he instructed the Divine Eagle to remain, promising to come for it later.

The three climbed onto Solwing’s broad back, the crane’s wings flapped once, and they were already hundreds of meters in the air.

They soared toward the inn, nestled on the lower cliffs beneath the mountain’s shadow.

The courtyard reserved for Riven was a sanctuary, enclosed by high walls and shielded from prying eyes.

Paper lanterns swayed on iron hooks, their soft glow dancing in the afternoon breeze, casting fleeting shadows across the tiled roofs.

The air was cool, scented with pine and the distant sound of rain. Here, in this quiet haven, they could act without fear of interruption.

Riven dismounted, his boots sinking into the soft earth of the courtyard. He raised his hand, energy humming in his palm. With a deep breath, he summoned the serpent.

A thunderous boom shook the ground as the Pusiqu snake’s carcass materialized, its massive form sprawling across the courtyard.

Nearly a hundred meters long, its dark violet scales gleamed with residual energy, each one catching the lantern light like shards of amethyst.

The air grew heavy, charged with the weight of its ancient presence!

Centuries of venom, power, and survival radiate from its lifeless form. Even in death, it commanded silence, its sheer scale stealing the breath from those who beheld it.

Selene’s eyes widened, her usual composure faltering.

Nysalea stood frozen, her veil fluttering as she stared, overwhelmed by the creature’s immensity.

How had Riven acquired this? Had he hunted it alone?

From where?

How?

The questions hung unspoken, their minds grappling with the impossibility.

Guards and stewards spilled into the courtyard, drawn by the tremor, followed by Azira, their faces pale in disbelief, the moment their eyes set on the creature.

They froze, their expressions a mix of awe and fear, as if the serpent’s presence had petrified them.

Riven remained silent, letting their assumptions swirl. Always better to let them wonder than try to explain where this came from.

The guards approached, their blades gleaming with purpose, but they returned moments later, sheepish.

Suyin, the lone female guard, cleared her throat with a tinge of red on her face. "My lord... our blades ehum... they couldn’t pierce it."

Riven had, of course, expected this.

"HAHAHAHA!!" Riven’s laughter burst forth, bright and unrestrained.

The more he laughed, the more the guards’ heads lowered in shame.

"Alright then," he said, glancing at the women. "Selene, Nysalea... give them Green Cloud and Velvet Elegance."

Selene drew her blade; it hummed like a living thing in her hands

Nysalea handed over Velvet Elegance, her movements silent.

Liam, a guard with a scholarly air, and Suyin held the swords with trembling reverence.

"L-Lady Selene... Lady Nysalea... what tier are these?" Liam stammered, his voice barely steady.

"Earth-tier," Selene replied, her tone light, as if it were nothing.

Nysalea nodded, her veiled face unreadable.

The guards exchanged a glance, nearly dropping the blades in shock.

Earth-tier weapons to carve a snake?!!