During this period, as Prince Armad diligently prepared to expand his battalion, Prince Sufa had already recovered from the grievous injuries he had sustained during his duel with Armad. The hospital room, usually a place of solace, was now a chamber of seething anger. Sufa paced back and forth, his fists clenched in fury and frustration.
“My Lord,” the judge beside him began, trying to interject a note of reason. However, before he could continue, Prince Sufa shot him a withering glare that silenced him instantly.
Sufa resumed his furious pacing, muttering to himself in a fevered tone. “No, it’s not possible. It can’t be. There’s no conceivable way he could have gained such power so quickly. He only left the capital city recently. When did he acquire such cultivation strength? I refuse to believe it. Demons must have possessed him. He must be using black magic. You saw the duel too. You should have noticed the sinister energy he wielded. Maybe he’s practicing dark cultivation. That’s it. After he left the capital, he must have sought out dark forces and learned black cultivation.”
Though Sufa was mostly talking to himself, he directed his final words at the judge, seeking validation for his wild theories. The judge knew that Sufa’s suspicions were baseless, but he also understood the prince’s need for reassurance. Hesitating briefly, he chose his words carefully before speaking.
“My Lord, do you have any concrete evidence or signs that we can present to the capital city to prove that your brother is using dark cultivation?”
“We don’t need any evidence,” Sufa snapped. “Didn’t you see it yourself? How else could he have defeated me without resorting to black magic? I don’t need evidence. What I say is the truth.”
The judge sighed deeply, gathering his thoughts before responding. “My Lord, the world is ever-changing. From what I observed during your duel, the should be a lesson for you. Perhaps, in your rapid rise in cultivation, you neglected to focus adequately on your training. This incident, I believe, will ultimately benefit you, as it will encourage you to place more emphasis on your cultivation. This is also the advice of the queen. It is the lesson your father wanted you to learn, which is why he sent you to this region. Maybe you should view your loss as a lesson rather than insisting black magic was used against you. Without evidence, your claims will be met with ridicule.”
He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. “My Lord, I think we came to this part of the world to deliver an important message, and we are running out of time. We should hurry and deliver it. What are your thoughts on this matter?”
Now, the judge revealed his thoughts to Prince Sufa. The prince listened intently, but what the judge said did not please him. Sufa’s face contorted in rage, and he clenched his teeth, his anger so palpable it seemed he might explode at any moment. Yet, despite the tempest of emotions swirling within him, Sufa managed to regain his composure. Drawing on his sense and self-control, he forced himself to calm down and let the seething anger dissipate.
After a few tense moments, a cruel smile slowly spread across his face. Prince Sufa understood that revenge could be served in many ways. Even if Armad had claimed a victory over him, Sufa was aware that their siblings included some who were more powerful than Armad. In addition, there was their eldest brother, Ikenga, the Crown Prince, whose influence and power were unmatched. Sufa had numerous strategies at his disposal to bring down Prince Armad, especially considering the nature of the message he was sent to deliver. To Sufa, the fact that their father had entrusted him with this task suggested that their father had lost hope in Armad. It was clear to Sufa that his mission was not just to deliver a message but to document Armad’s failures and report them back to their father.
“Let him be informed that I want him to come and receive the message from our father. He must come immediately, without wasting any time,” Prince Sufa ordered the judge.
However, the judge did not immediately comply. Instead, he cleared his throat, seeking permission to speak further. Sufa, somewhat impatiently, allowed him to proceed.
“Reveal what is on your mind. What do you want to say?” Sufa demanded.
“My lord,” the judge began cautiously, “according to what I think, we should comply with his wishes for now. By doing so, we might uncover the secret behind his increasing power. My lord, don’t you think that since he has achieved victory over you, it would be wise to lower your arrogance towards him? You should start respecting him as your elder brother.”
The judge paused, gauging Sufa’s reaction before continuing. “If you disrespect him, he might use the decree of the Wilberforce tribe to justify his actions under the guise of teaching you a lesson. He could use this decree to beat and injure you, which could result in your hospitalization again. If that happens, I fear we will be unable to fulfill your father’s order—to deliver this message in time and return. Should we fail in this task, the respect your father has for you, which led him to entrust you with this important message, will diminish. You may not get another opportunity like this again.”
Sufa clenched his teeth in frustration, his jaw tightened with the force of his anger. After some time, he managed to subdue the rage that had been etched on his face. The judge’s words, though harsh, were undeniably true. The opportunity of surpassing his brother that he once had was now lost. The disparity in their cultivation levels was glaring, and Sufa found himself looking up to his brother, who had become far more powerful in a remarkably short period.
Sufa’s mind raced as he considered his next steps. It was clear that he needed to adopt a strategy of appeasement. By pleasing his brother and delivering the message from the Emperor, he could return to the capital city and begin to plot his next move in secret. Only by doing what can please his brother, he could hope to uncover the secret behind his brother’s rapid increase in cultivation.
Taking a deep breath, Sufa closed his eyes, centering himself. When he reopened them, there was a newfound clarity and attentiveness. Among the tribe of Wilberforce, such attentiveness was a common trait. Both the young and the old knew that when their cultivation powers were insufficient, they had to rely on Royal Cunning.
“Go and inform him that I have recovered,” Sufa instructed, his voice now steady and composed. “Thank him for taking care of me until I was well. Also, express my gratitude for the training he provided; I have learned a great deal. The Emperor has sent me a message. When he is ready, I will deliver it to him.”
The transformation in Sufa’s demeanor was striking. If anyone had been eavesdropping, they would have struggled to recognize Prince Sufa’s voice. In such a short time, his tone had changed dramatically, sounding almost unrecognizable. He spoke with a calm authority as if relaying a message to his father, all arrogance stripped from his voice. It was as people often said, “Some people don’t learn a lesson until they are beaten badly.” Perhaps now, after the severe beating from his elder brother Armad, Prince Sufa had indeed learned his lesson.
The judge, observing the change in Sufa, nodded in understanding. He realized that the prince had absorbed the intended lesson. Smiling, he rose from his seat and exited the room, making his way to Armad’s chamber.
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Meanwhile, Armad and his judge had already entered the palace. As they walked through the grand halls, they encountered the judge sent by Sufa. The judge bowed deeply, greeting Armad with the respect befitting his status, before nodding to his fellow judge.
As Armad gazed at the judge, the incident from four days ago replayed in his mind. The brutal scene where he had mercilessly beaten his younger brother is what replayed in his mind. He had no intention of visiting his brother, convinced that time alone would heal the wounds. He estimated that within five days, his brother would be on the mend.
“My lord, your younger brother, Prince Sufa, has sent me to deliver a message,” the judge began. “It is a message of gratitude. May I have your permission to reveal it?”
Armad’s expression darkened. He had not anticipated that his brother would recover so swiftly. Moreover, what kind of gratitude could come from a boy he had so harshly punished? With a dismissive wave, he allowed the judge to proceed. “You may speak.”
“My lord, your younger brother is grateful for the training you provided. He has learned many valuable life lessons and is confident that he will apply them when he returns home. At this moment, he seeks your permission to deliver a message from your father, if it would not trouble you.”
Armad’s lips curled into a small, mocking smile, the derision evident in his eyes. “Very well, go and bring him. I will be waiting in my courtyard. I’m eager to hear what pressing message our father deemed important enough to send via this impudent boy.”
The two judges exchanged uneasy glances at Armad’s harsh words. Was it appropriate for Prince Armad to speak so disdainfully about his brother? However, they chose to remain silent. The judge bowed and departed to fetch Prince Sufa, while Armad’s judge accompanied him to the courtyard.
In short order, a large dining table was set up in the courtyard, adorned with an array of sumptuous dishes. Armad sat at the head of the table, his mind swirling with curiosity and skepticism as he awaited the arrival of Sufa and his judge.
Without much delay, Sufa arrived. Surprisingly, upon Sufa’s arrival, he had bowed slightly before Armad. Armad noticed this and responded with a mocking laugh. Despite Armad’s derision, Sufa maintained a stoic expression. As he took his seat, he did not attempt to partake in any food. Instead, he produced a letter wrapped in another piece of paper. The letter remained sealed with the emblem of Wilberforce, its closure intact and unbroken. The seal bore a distinct mark, a special cultivation that would reveal any tampering. At a mere glance, it was evident that this was a direct message from Emperor Ayrion. Only a select few in the empire, countable on one hand, were privileged to receive such correspondence.
Armad took the letter and attempted to break the seal with his hands. Despite his efforts, the seal, though small—no larger than a finger—remained unyielding. After some time, Armad channeled his cultivation into the seal. His energy cycled through the seal three times before it burst open with a sound akin to an egg cracking against a stone.
The seal was designed to be impervious to anyone lacking cultivation. Armad wondered if his cultivation was uniquely compatible with the seal.
As Armad began reading the letter, he recognized his father’s handwriting. This did not surprise him; letters with such seals were typically penned by his father personally.
The letter commenced without any formal greetings. It began:
“After more than a year of governance over this town, in the next six months, we will send officials to evaluate the developments you have implemented. If no progress is evident, you will not remain in Tiriba for the full four years. You will return to the capital and resume your cultivation studies under our supervision.”
The letter concluded with a new paragraph, bearing the emperor’s signature, a full stop, and his stamp. This was all the letter contained.
Armad clenched his teeth as he read through his father’s letter, his emotions a tumultuous mix of frustration and anxiety. It was not the content of the letter itself that gnawed at him—though it was certainly troubling—but the tone of distrust and implied disappointment. Typically, a father, when checking up on his son’s progress, might ask how he was faring or offer some words of encouragement. Instead, the emperor’s missive carried an ominous air, hinting at a fear of potential mischief Armad might cause in the town during his four-year tenure. The letter bluntly stated that inspectors would be sent to review Armad’s progress, and should the emperor find the development lacking, he would cancel the mission outright.
Armad understood the historical context behind his assignment. The town had been placed under his governance and development as per an ancient decree from the era of Emperor Aldaima. This decree mandated that such missions should have a minimum duration of four years. If the assigned governor failed to develop the town within this period, they would be recalled to the capital and made to live under the oversight of their elder brother. For Armad, only a year and a few months had elapsed since he took charge of the town, yet his father’s letter now indicated that his progress would be scrutinized within the next six months.
The emperor’s letter was clear about one thing: the forthcoming evaluation would focus on the development Armad had achieved so far, not the overall progress expected by the end of the four years. This meant that the inspectors would assess the current state of the town rather than the long-term goals Armad had set. Despite this clarification, it was evident that his father believed Armad had failed to bring any significant progress to the town, necessitating the inspection. If the inspectors found no substantial development, Armad feared his father might strip him of his governance and force him back to the capital city, Wilberforce, against his wishes.
However, the inspection itself was not what troubled Armad the most. He knew that his father would not personally oversee such a minor evaluation. Even for significant inspections, the emperor had a multitude of officials at his disposal. Armad’s primary concern was the allegiance of these officials. He was acutely aware that most of his father’s council members were loyal to Prince Ikenga, his elder brother. This raised an unsettling question: who would the emperor send to conduct the inspection? Armad worried that his father might appoint someone biased, someone who would not give him a fair and just assessment. This thought gnawed at him, intensifying his anxiety.
Moreover, Armad was deeply troubled by the lack of clarity in his father’s letter regarding the criteria for evaluation. He knew from his schooling days that before being tested, one must first be taught what to study. Similarly, he had not been informed about the specific benchmarks or areas of development that would be examined. Without clear guidelines, how could he ensure his efforts aligned with the emperor’s expectations? The ambiguity left him feeling unprepared and vulnerable, uncertain about what aspects of his governance would be scrutinized.
Although one might think that the factors contributing to a town’s development are apparent—peace and prosperity of the citizens, economic growth, agriculture, and the strength of the town’s battalion—Armad was skeptical about the fairness of the emperor’s chosen inspector.
The letter notifying him of an impending evaluation within the next six months was delivered by an impolite boy. Armad began to worry about who the emperor would send to assess his progress. What if the emperor decided to send Prince Ikenga? As this thought crossed his mind, Armad’s face darkened. He clenched the letter in his fist, determined not to let the judge inquire about its contents or respond to the emperor.
Armad started to believe that his father did not intend to treat him justly in the distribution of inheritance. He realized, however, that he was powerless against those above him, including their father. He also couldn’t fathom what the emperor was thinking. Nonetheless, Armad held onto the hope that the emperor had not completely lost his affection for him. Additionally, some council members might not have pledged their full allegiance to Prince Ikenga.
He was aware of the ongoing conflict between some council members and Prince Ikenga’s mother. Even before the emperor married her, many council members had opposed the union, and the discord persisted. Armad knew that these council members would do anything to diminish Prince Ikenga’s power, even if they didn’t particularly favor Armad. He believed that if the council had truly united against him, they wouldn’t have granted him the town in the first place.
Determined, Armad signed a letter. He had no choice but to accelerate his plans, developing the town within the next six months to more than the level he originally intended to achieve in four years. This way, regardless of who was sent to evaluate the town’s progress, they could not deny its development out of jealousy.
“What does the letter say?” Prince Sufa asked, noticing the darkened expression on his brother’s face. Despite his brother’s evident distress, Sufa couldn’t contain his curiosity. His heart was filled with eager anticipation, wondering what kind of retribution their father had planned against Armad.