In the Martyrs' Mausoleum of Nettle, Valia, autumn rain sifted down in fine, cold threads, and a hard, funereal chill settled over the vast cemetery. Hundreds of officers and soldiers stood ramrod straight under black umbrellas, faces set and grave, eyes fixed on the rows of fresh earth ahead. Boom! A blue-white bolt ripped the sky, night flared like noon, and the rain turned into a sheeted downpour. A white-haired field officer flung aside his black umbrella. Tears burned his eyes as he raised his voice and called out, "Marshal of the Nettle Dragon Legion, Ian Jauncy, seventy-two, killed in action!" "Vice Marshal Cole Jauncy, forty-five, killed in action!" "Vice Marshal Joseph Jauncy, twenty-nine, killed in action!" "Nettle Eighteen Blades, killed in action!" "Dragon Legion's thirty-six battle commanders, killed in action!" "Dragon Legion..." He finished reciting the hundred-odd names etched on stone, then threw back his head with a hoarse, broken wail. "Farewell to Marshal Jauncy. Farewell to the heroic souls of Nettle. Farewell to the tens of thousands of nameless soldiers!" When his heart-rending cry ended, the soldiers lifted their sidearms in unison and fired into the air. Bang! Bang! Bang! The thunder of gunfire split the sky. The rain hammered harder. The Nettle Dragon Legion had been hailed as Valia's sharpest blade, unbeaten in a hundred battles, a force said to equal a nation. Yet in this single campaign, tens of thousands were annihilated. From that day on, Valia had no blade, and Nettle had no Dragon Legion. The white-haired officer wiped his eyes and walked toward a young man in black, seated in a wheelchair. Taylor Jauncy, the Jauncy family's last living heir, had been left paralyzed. "Taylor, something unexpected happened in this operation. The enemy formed a coalition, and bandit forces within our borders joined in. They worked in concert, attacking from within and without, so…" He choked and could not finish. Taylor did not answer. He stared at the tombstones of his grandfather, his father, his brothers, and the martyrs of Nettle. The war had been imminent, the intelligence wrong, the reinforcements late; tens of thousands had fallen at the border. An accident? It was planned. His hands clenched until his nails bit deep. Blood welled and slid from between his fingers. For one breathless instant, his fury took shape, hot and solid, and his blood surged like floodwater pounding through a broken dam. Suddenly, his whole body jolted. His eyes flew wide. After three years of numbness, his body responded to the racing tide of blood and energy. "Finally?" He lifted his head. Two cold sparks kindled in his gaze. Three years earlier, he had been Nettle's golden son. At eighteen, he had brushed the threshold of the Grandmaster Realm, a peerless prodigy, a future star of Valia. To step into the Grandmaster Realm, he had cultivated six top-tier arts at once. Instead of breaking through, his meridians sealed, and he was left paralyzed, becoming a fallen prodigy, the biggest joke in Nettle. But Taylor had known the truth. Top-tier arts did not bloom in a day. The Grandmaster Realm was not won so easily. His meridians were only sealed for a time; once the arts fused with his bloodline, they would unseal, and the breakthrough would come. He had not imagined the wait would stretch past a thousand days. Now, he felt the long-vanished power waking in him again. It surged next, like a geyser, through meridians and his core. Energy surged through his body, wild and unstoppable. His strength returned in an instant and even surpassed the Grandmaster Realm by severalfold. Of the arts he had cultivated, all but the Tranquil Flow had already reached full mastery. The day had finally come after three years. "Taylor..." Seeing his reaction, the white-haired officer could not help speaking, worry roughening his voice. Taylor raised his head. "I am fine, Kayden. Let us go home." Kayden Yare had served as Ian's deputy. Old injuries had kept him from the battlefield this time. At Taylor's words, he nodded slowly, his tone weighted and careful. "All right." At the cemetery gates, the crowd still swelled by the thousands. Cars choked the road for miles. The Dragon Legion had been Nettle's pride. Ian was a god in the hearts of the people. When the news spread that the Marshal had died in battle, they came of their own accord to see him off. A column of Nettle soldiers filed out from the mausoleum. At the head of the line rolled Taylor's wheelchair, pushed by Kayden. "This is awful. The Marshal's whole line died loyal, and this is what they got." "Poor Mr. Taylor. The Jauncy family's only sprout, and he is paralyzed." "Fate is cruel. Why should disaster fall on the Jauncy family alone?" They sighed for him as he passed. None of them noticed the ember-bright resolve burning in the young man's eyes. "Vice Commander Yare, wait a moment!" A knot of people shouldered out of the crowd. At their head stood a woman in black, slim and poised. All eyes turned. It was Alyssa Casson, Taylor's arranged fiancée. "Ms. Casson," Kayden said, relief loosening his features, "the funeral has concluded. You may go in and pay your respects to the Marshal." The Casson family had come to honor the dead; that meant they cared. Once they were married, Taylor would have the Casson family to rely on, and Ian's spirit would rest easier. "I am not here to mourn," Alyssa said, "I am here to announce something." She turned so everyone could see her clearly. "I will not marry a cripple. I'm breaking off my engagement to Taylor." What? The crowd broke into a babble. A few years ago, the Casson family had been second-tier in the pharmaceutical trade. After they latched onto the Jauncy family's connections, they had received no small amount of support.  Alyssa, eager to climb into high society, had doted on Taylor in every possible way, and the old patriarch, Ian, had set the match. Now, with the Jauncy family's help, the Cassons had climbed to the top of the provincial pharmaceutical field. And on this day of the Marshal's funeral, they came to break the engagement. Even if they meant to end it, they could have done so in private. Announcing it here was a slap in the face to the entire Jauncy family. "Ms. Casson," Kayden said, holding his temper with visible effort, "your engagement was arranged by the patriarch. You should at least consult your family head." "No need. My marriage is mine to decide." Alyssa flicked her hand and refused him. "Our family's standing has risen. I will not let a cripple drag me down." At her blunt cruelty, Kayden shook, his breath ragged. "Ms. Casson, Taylor is the descendant of a house of loyal generals. You go too far." "The Marshal may be gone," he said, setting his feet, "but as long as I can stand, I will not allow the Casson family to betray trust and duty." She cut him a cold look and gave a small, scornful laugh. "You? The Jauncy family lies in ruins, the Dragon Legion nearly wiped out. What can a former deputy do to me?" "You..." Kayden trembled, pointing at her. He had not imagined a person could be so ungrateful. Had she forgotten the Jauncy family's kindness? "Kayden, enough." Taylor's quiet voice broke in at last. He turned his chair and faced Alyssa. "If I were not paralyzed, would you still break the engagement?" Alyssa did not answer at once. She glanced, without the slightest respect, toward the cemetery and said coolly, "Even if you weren't paralyzed, could you still be who you were?" "To be honest, I wanted to end this three years ago. I held back because of your family's standing. Now the Jauncy family is finished..." "Do you even deserve me?" A heavy silence fell. Many people bristled on the Jauncy family's behalf. A few days ago, would the Cassons have dared to strut like this? However, the Casson family was now one of the top families.  Who would dare step up? "Hahaha. Ms. Casson, are you sure you want to break it off today?" Laughter rolled across the road. An old man in his late seventies or eighties pushed through the crowd. He wore a gray tunic mended with patches and leaned on a plain wooden staff. "Who is he? Is he going to stand up for the young man?" "At least someone spoke. But with the Jauncy family fallen, what is the point?" "Look at his clothes. He's just an ordinary old man. What can he do?" Kayden and Taylor both looked surprised; they clearly did not know him. "Old man, who are you?" Alyssa asked, eyes frosty. The elder grinned. "Just answer me this: are you really breaking off your engagement to Taylor?" "Of course," Alyssa said, lifting her chin. "Good. Good. Good." He said it three times, then turned toward the cemetery, his face solemn. "I'm Harley Nesom. I've come to ask the Marshal, here at his grave, to bless this match: I wish to marry my granddaughter, Erin Nesom, to Taylor Jauncy." What? Erin Nesom? Valia's top female war god?