Time passed in a flash, and three days went by.
December nineteenth.
News of the Gates of Mourning had already been sent back to the capital, and it was published in the newspapers that very day.
"Victory report! Victory report! Our army has crushed Noxus at the Gates of Mourning! A complete victory!"
"A demon dragon descends upon Hill City, and His Highness the prince slays the beast!"
A newsboy held a newspaper in one hand, pedaling a bicycle under his feet as he called out with all his might while riding down the street.
He steered the bicycle with one hand, skillfully weaving through the streets.
Along the way, who knew how many people's attention he drew.
As soon as he stopped his bicycle, people immediately crowded around him.
"Give me one!"
"Is the war at the border over?"
"There was actually a demon dragon too?"
The crowd packed so tightly around the newsboy that not even water could pass through. Before long, the coin pouch on him was stuffed full.
Today's newspapers sold unusually quickly. Before the morning had even passed, they were already sold out.
As people walked through the streets, most of them had a newspaper in hand. Those who had not managed to buy one simply gathered together to read with others.
The entire city was discussing the news printed in the paper.
The great victory in the border campaign was no different from good news before the new year to the people, and voices of praise could be heard from every street and alley.
People could finally celebrate a peaceful new year.
On the street, a tall, short-haired woman bought the last newspaper from the newsboy, then walked to one side and quietly began reading.
Her entire bearing was elegant as an orchid, carrying a noblewoman's grace and poise, yet she also resembled a proud snow lotus, radiating a cold beauty that kept strangers away.
When she saw the contents of the newspaper, a smile also unconsciously curved across her stunning face.
In the palace.
The conference hall.
The news had already been sent back yesterday. It was only today, however, that a group of ministers had been summoned to discuss it.
"His Highness Luke's performance this time was also quite commendable."
"His Highness the Second Prince secretly set up an ambush and led troops in a surprise attack on the Gates of Mourning. It seems that decision was made by him."
"His Highness the Second Prince's trip to the border this time also resolved the frontier unrest quickly enough."
"A complete victory, nearly one hundred thousand enemy troops lost. Even among the battle records of recent years, this is quite impressive."
The ministers discussed the matter enthusiastically. Naturally, everyone was in a very good mood after winning a battle.
Half of those present had initially objected when they heard that Luke was heading straight to the frontier, and had requested that Jarvan III send someone to bring him back.
Now, after hearing the news sent back from the frontier, they immediately felt that the Second Prince heading to the border had truly been the right decision.
Tianna sat at the octagonal table, reading through the report sent back from the border. When she saw the "flying strategy," the corners of her lips could not help lifting into a smile. There was a hint of helplessness in it as she shook her head.
"That boy."
She really had no idea how his brain worked, or where he came up with so many strange ideas.
Flying above the enemy's heads in the middle of a battle. Looking across history, this was probably the first time anyone had ever done it.
To be honest, this matter was a little hard to say out loud. All the ministers present were doing their best to avoid mentioning it.
But for some reason, when people saw such an outrageous operation and then saw who had come up with it, they actually did not find it strange.
Jarvan III was in an especially good mood today. Sitting in the main seat, the aura around him felt much more approachable than usual.
Seeing these ministers discuss Luke and Jarvan IV, as a father, how could his heart not be filled with pride at this moment?
Elsewhere.
The Immortal Bastion.
In Darkwill's palace, the man sitting high upon the throne had a face that carried an almost natural pallor. Black curls fell before his forehead, making his aura seem even more sinister.
His eyes were cold, and the bearing of a ruler radiated from him as he quietly listened to the messenger's report below.
On both his left and right were the leaders of various major families, as well as warlords from the military, all gathered together.
"Grand General, ill news has come from the border. Lord Patria failed to hold the Gates of Mourning and launched a night raid, but instead, he was surrounded and killed by the enemy. Our army had over a hundred thousand men, and not a single one survived. The entire army was wiped out. The losses were severe."
As the messenger's words fell, the eyes of the high-ranking figures around him all narrowed.
"You said the entire army was wiped out?"
Someone spoke up. Even though he had heard clearly, he still asked again.
The messenger replied, "Yes. In total, one hundred eight thousand three hundred twenty-four men. Not one survived."
"Heh."
A cold laugh came from a corner, and the person who had laughed said, "Over a hundred thousand men, all lost to a single border city. As expected of House Teir's rising star."
Another person said, "If I remember correctly, it was Patria himself who volunteered to lead troops to the Gates of Mourning this time, wasn't it?"
"Now not only has he failed to return, he also sacrificed over a hundred thousand soldiers of our army. Shouldn't he bear responsibility for this? Grand General?"
Someone quickly followed up. "This kind of battle record is enough to shame Noxus even among recent years. Now that the defeated general is dead, someone still ought to answer for what he did."
"Grand General, we second this. This battle brought severe losses. Someone must bear the responsibility."
"House Teir cannot escape blame!"
At this moment, inside the palace, whether it was House Teir's opposing faction or the neutral factions, once they heard the news from the border, they immediately seized the topic and launched their attacks at full force.
No matter what, Patria had taken the initiative to lead the army there, and his mission should have been to guard the Gates of Mourning.
Instead, he coveted more glory and launched a night raid, only to be surrounded by the enemy in return. Not only had the hard-won Gates of Mourning been lost, even he himself had died along with a hundred thousand soldiers.
This kind of humiliating battle record, even in the past several decades of Noxian history, could rank near the top.
It was not that Noxus had never suffered defeats. Some stubborn and powerful places had also made them suffer losses.
So far, the two places that had made Noxus suffer the greatest setbacks were clear.
One was Demacia, that nation as solid as bedrock, as hard as a stone that could not be smashed.
The other was Ionia.
To this day, the invasion of Ionia had already continued for six years. Over six years, Noxus had already invested a great deal of military strength.
At first, people had treated that continent as nothing more than an easy target, a backward place that could be easily taken in hand.
Yet no one had expected that not only had Ionia not fallen, it had stubbornly held on until now.
Now, thanks to Patria, Noxus had once again crashed headfirst into Demacia's iron wall.
More importantly, the side that had originally taken the advantage had been Noxus.
Firmly occupying the Gates of Mourning and defending the city with hundreds of thousands of soldiers was absolutely not something that could be broken through easily in a short period.
And yet, Patria had been blinded by ambition and had taken the initiative to send out troops, leading to the current result.
So someone had to bear responsibility for the grave mistake he had committed.
Without question, that would naturally be the House Teir standing behind him.
Before this, House Teir had been considered a family with a rich foundation. As an outstanding heir of this family, Patria could be said to have had a great deal of effort and hope poured into him.
Now, in return, they would be dragged down by him. This was already inevitable.
The warlords and nobles before them, all seeing only profit, immediately rose together to attack, displaying the act of kicking someone while they were down to absolute perfection.
They wished they could bite off an extra piece from the fat, delicious meat that was House Teir.
Meanwhile, the tiny voice of House Teir was drowned out, unable to cause even the slightest ripple.
At this moment, Darkwill, who had been sitting silently above and listening for quite some time, finally moved. He sat up, and the voices on both sides immediately quieted.
There was still no visible ripple in Darkwill's gaze. Then he spoke. "Regarding the mistake Patria committed at the Gates of Mourning, House Teir will bear full responsibility. For this matter, I will give only three days of leniency. Within three days, I want to see an explanation."
Below, the member of House Teir knelt in terror, trembling all over as he answered, "Yes, Grand General."
His expression was somewhat despairing.
Darkwill said he wanted an explanation, but in reality, he had merely given House Teir three days of safety. That was also equivalent to deciding House Teir's fate.
Without looking at that person again, Darkwill continued slowly, "The matter of the Gates of Mourning will be set aside for now. Has any battle report come from Ionia?"
Someone immediately stepped forward below and replied, "In answer to the Grand General, the Navori Brotherhood formed by the Ionians shows signs of becoming an army. More and more locals are joining them. Our army has clashed with them several times, and the results have not been ideal."
Clearly, that was not the issue Darkwill cared about. His rippleless gaze turned toward the speaker, and he asked in an indifferent voice, "Have you found the Fountain of Youth I spoke of, or anything at all capable of extending life?"
Hearing this, the man shook his head. "Following the Grand General's instructions, we have recently drawn quite a few men away from General Swain's army to search for the Fountain of Youth you mentioned, but so far, no intelligence has come back."
Darkwill's breathing grew a little heavier, and a few traces of authority appeared in his previously rippleless eyes. "If you haven't found it, then keep searching. Send even more men!"
"Yes."
An answer immediately came from below.
"Today's meeting ends here."
Darkwill seemed somewhat impatient as he stood up, then turned and left directly.
Very soon, he returned to his bedchamber. His face seemed even paler than before.
From a wardrobe, he took out a medicine bottle, poured out several pills, threw them straight into his mouth, and forced them down.
Only after the pills entered his stomach did color gradually begin to return to his face, adding a few traces of vitality.
"A pack of useless trash!"
After recovering, Darkwill angrily swung his hand, and a burst of violent power directly smashed the cabinet in front of him.
Splinters flew everywhere, but he could not feel even a trace of pain.
Then he looked at his own palm, and what flashed in his eyes was greed and obsession toward this power.
In order to obtain this power, he had paid the witch with his lifespan, and only then had he gained his current strength.
But when the supreme authority of the throne and great power increasingly filled Darkwill's heart, what followed was the panic brought about by his shortened lifespan.
He did not have many years left to live. He urgently needed something that could prolong his life, make him immortal, and allow him to sit upon the throne forever.
So, he had followed the witch's guidance and set his sights on neighboring Ionia.
There, a Fountain of Youth capable of granting immortality and eternal youth existed, along with other treasures that could extend one's lifespan.
However, after so many years had passed, that pack of useless trash had still failed to find anything.
Now, he could only rely on this kind of secret medicine to conceal the defects in his lifespan.
This absolutely could not be discovered by those secretly coveting his position, but Darkwill had already begun to feel sick of these days.
The closer death came, the more afraid he became.
One name after another of people who threatened the throne flashed through his mind, and a cold look appeared in his eyes.
Since that was the case, he could only strike first.
After calming his breathing a little, Darkwill sat before his desk and began writing an unsigned letter.
At dusk.
On Demacia's frontier, Wrenwall Castle.
Looking out, white houses and forts were connected one after another, scattered across the mountain in every direction like a white spiderweb.
This was a sturdy border stronghold.
Luke's group slowly entered through the open city gates. The moment they returned within the borders, there was a different feeling in both body and mind.
On the streets, more and more people noticed the army entering the city.
They spontaneously came to both sides of the streets, cheering as they offered applause and woven garlands, sincerely happy for the victorious army's return.
About twenty thousand soldiers had returned to the country together with Luke this time, while the remaining twenty thousand continued to be led by Jarvan IV.
They had come from the border line to support the frontier. Now that the frontier unrest had been resolved, they naturally had to return to their original posts.
Pair after pair of worshipful, admiring eyes fell on Luke at the head of the group. Draped in bright silver armor, he rode forward slowly on horseback, like a great general returning in triumph.
At this moment, his tall, handsome figure planted a dream in the hearts of who knew how many young children.
The group moved like a parade, passing through one street after another and enjoying the treatment victorious soldiers deserved.
Luke's gaze fell on the crowd. When a black shadow flashed past in his vision, his eyes still narrowed slightly.
He glanced at the sky. It had already grown dark. They would be able to reach Terbisia with another day's travel, so there was no need to hurry on the road.
Luke decided to stay overnight in Wrenwall. More importantly, he very much disliked the feeling of being watched all the time.
He had to think of a way to deal with it.
Over these past few days, he had constantly been watched by that restless gaze. The other party seemed to be waiting for a suitable opportunity to strike.
And now, Luke had already identified the black shadow.
Very soon, after finding lodgings, Luke stayed alone in a small attic. The surroundings were very quiet, and the environment was quite nice.
At around eleven at night, he returned to the small attic.
Sensing the sound of his footsteps, Katarina, who was warming the bed, immediately got up and used Shunpo, disappearing from the room.
She left behind a warm blanket.
Just like an hourly worker who clocked in and clocked out on time.
Lying in the comfortable, warm blankets, however, Luke did not feel the slightest bit sleepy. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, thinking things over in his mind as he quietly waited for time to pass.
And outside the room, a strange set of footsteps quietly approached.
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