The third day of the Shadow Hunt Trials wrapped up by midday.
With fewer competitors remaining, the results came in quickly. Mira had drawn a strong opponent, but his mount wasn’t in her league — using her Veil Knight advantage one more time, she pushed through the third round cleanly. Even Master Kessel hadn’t expected that.
The other three fifth-stage knights all won their matches, as expected. And with Ethan Holt’s defeat the previous day, Leo Ashford quietly claimed the empty slot — no match required. Top ten, secured.
---
Inside the Ironveil Order’s private offices, an elder sat alone behind a wide desk.
His hair was silver, his shoulders broad, and despite his age, the weight of his presence filled the room without effort. He was reviewing the day’s competitor data — nineteen names, nineteen results — when three sharp knocks landed on the door.
"Enter."
Ethan Holt stepped inside.
The arrogance that had defined his face yesterday was completely gone. What remained was something rawer — embarrassment, pain, and the particular look of someone who has spent the night being honest with themselves for the first time in years.
The elder set the documents down without a word.
Ethan’s fist pressed hard against his own chest as he gave a formal Knight’s salute. Then he stood quietly, head lowered, and waited.
The elder — Han Qian, Head of the Ironveil Order, second only to the three great Divine Knights in the entire Alliance — stared at his grandson in cold silence for a long moment.
Then he kicked the desk.
The impact sent papers scattering. The air in the room shifted — something heavy and suffocating pressing outward from Han Qian like a mountain deciding to move. Even Ethan, with his fifth-stage cultivation, felt his knees want to buckle.
He stayed standing. Barely.
"Kneel," Han Qian said.
Ethan knelt.
Han Qian rose from behind the desk and walked around it slowly, pointing one finger down at his grandson like a blade.
"Magnificent. Truly magnificent." His voice was dripping with the specific anger that only family can produce — not the cold fury of an official, but something older and more personal. "The pride of your generation, they called you. And you couldn’t even summon your mount. You stood in front of a fourth-stage fighter without armor, without your mount, and you lost. How heroic."
Ethan kept his head down. "Grandfather, I was wrong. Punish me however you see fit."
"Don’t call me grandfather. I don’t have such a disappointing grandson."
He punctuated this with a firm kick to Ethan’s side — not enough to injure, more than enough to sting.
"You think I’m angry because you embarrassed me in front of the other elders? You think this is about my reputation?" Han Qian’s voice rose. "I’m angry because my grandson — who was given every advantage this Order could provide — walked into that arena like it was already over and still managed to lose. That shame belongs to you alone. You put it on yourself."
Ethan said nothing.
Han Qian continued, pacing now. "In that stadium, when I ordered your expulsion — did you think that was just temper? No. I wanted you gone because you were behaving in a way that disgraced the name of knight entirely. The first of the Ten Standards is humility. Tell me one thing — just one — about how you conducted yourself today that resembles humility."
Silence.
"You cannot." Han Qian stopped pacing and looked down at him. "Your heart has been full of arrogance since you were a child. You broke into the fifth stage at twenty-two and decided that was the ceiling of achievement — that everyone below you was simply waiting to lose to you. And then today—" He leaned forward slightly. "The boy who beat you is fourteen years old."
Ethan’s head snapped up. "That’s impossible."
"Is it?" Han Qian’s eyes were flat. "Do you think a bone-age examination can be falsified? I personally sealed his age records after reviewing them. Fourteen years old. Fourth stage." A pause, letting it settle. "Compared to him, you are nothing more than a scuff on the bottom of his boot."
The words hit harder than the kick had.
Ethan’s expression had gone completely blank — the kind of blank that happens when the mind encounters something it genuinely cannot process. Fourteen. Fourteen years old. He had been certain, completely certain, that the gap in cultivation between them meant the gap in everything else was just as wide.
It turned out the gap ran the other direction.
Han Qian let the silence sit for a moment. Then his voice dropped — still firm, but no longer shouting. This part, clearly, mattered more.
"You have two choices. The first: I seal your spiritual energy, process your removal from the Alliance, and give you enough money to live comfortably as an ordinary person. You are still my grandson. I will also appear before Leo Ashford personally to cancel the oath on your behalf — that much, I can arrange." He held up two fingers. "The second choice, you already know. You fulfill the oath. You follow him."
Ethan stayed quiet for a long moment.
Then, slowly: "Grandfather." His voice had lost its usual edges. "He’s... really fourteen?"
The fury on Han Qian’s face faded. What replaced it was something much quieter.
"Yes," he said, and nodded once. "In three days of competition, I have watched that boy fight with steadiness, cleverness, courage, and — most importantly — with genuine decency. When you were on that floor, he spoke up for you. He had no reason to. He had already won. He owed you nothing." Han Qian looked at his grandson carefully. "I see a knight’s honor in him. If you stay by his side, you will learn what that looks like from the inside. Don’t mistake a Retainer’s oath for a loss of face. That boy will go further than either of us can currently imagine. Following him is not beneath you. It is an opportunity you do not deserve and have somehow been given anyway."
Ethan was still for a long moment.
Then he pressed his forehead to the floor — once, twice, three times — and straightened up.
"Grandfather." His voice was quiet and completely steady. "In five years, I will make you accept me again."
He stood. Gave Han Qian a proper salute — clean, precise, no hesitation. Then turned and walked out with his back straight and his steps even.
Han Qian watched him go.
The moment the door closed, the last of the anger left his face entirely. What appeared in its place was something that might, in the right light, have been called a smile — small, private, and deeply satisfied.
"Leo Ashford," he said quietly, to no one in particular. "I genuinely owe you thanks today." He settled back into his chair. "I had noticed the problem with young Ethan long ago. I just never had the right moment to break it open. A proud child — but a stubborn one. Restraint only makes him push harder. Defeat, real defeat, is the only teacher he listens to." He folded his hands. "Staying close to that boy will do him more good than another five years of supervised training."
He paused, eyes drifting toward the window.
"Though I do find myself wondering." His voice dropped lower, almost to himself. "He uses Veil Knight techniques. He has learned Sacred Edge — a fifth-stage skill of the highest order. And his family name..." Han Qian’s expression shifted — something clicking into place behind his eyes. "Don’t tell me that he is..."
He sat forward slowly in his chair.
His expression was no longer smiling.
It was stunned.