The journey back to the clan's heart was a starkly different affair from any Jian Feng had previously undertaken. He spent most of the time in the Sky-Ark's command chamber with the Third Elder, who now treated him not as a junior, but as a peer and a strategic equal.
"Your report has thrown the Elder Council into turmoil," the elder explained, his voice a low, confidential murmur as they looked down at the passing clouds. "The evidence of conspiracy was irrefutable. Your solution was so clean, so total, that it left no room for political maneuvering. Grand Elder Wu's faction has been forced into silence. They cannot question your success, so they question your methods in hushed whispers, claiming your luck was too convenient."
"Luck is the residue of design," Jian Feng replied calmly.
The Third Elder smiled. "Indeed. But be wary, Young Lord. You have proven yourself a dragon. The other old dragons in the den will now watch your every move, some with pride, others with jealousy. The game has changed."
When the Sky-Ark finally arrived, it was to a scene of unprecedented welcome. The grand plaza before the Ancestral Hall was filled with thousands of clan members. The air, once filled with whispers of his failure, was now electric with fervent admiration.
As he disembarked, following the Third Elder, a wave of silence fell over the crowd before erupting into a deafening roar. "Young Lord Jian Feng!" The cheer was thunderous, genuine, and absolute.
He saw familiar faces in the crowd. Jian Liwei stood with the other disciples from the trial, his head bowed in a deep, respectful gesture. There was no trace of his former arrogance, only the solemn acknowledgement of a subordinate to his superior. Further back, Jian Qiao watched him, her eyes bright with a quiet, knowing pride.
At the center of the grand reception stood his father. Patriarch Jian Tianlong's presence was as immense as always, but today, his face was not a mask of stoicism. It was one of open, unrestrained pride.
He allowed the cheering to continue for a moment before raising a hand for silence. He stepped forward and stood before his son, his voice booming across the plaza for all to hear.
"For ten years, my son cultivated in silence to forge a perfect path. In the Tri-Clan Trial, he demonstrated the strength of that path. In the Western Spur, he faced down deceit and conspiracy, saved a vital clan asset, and restored the well-being of our people. He has shown the realm the meaning of our Azure Dragon name—not just power, but wisdom, compassion, and unerring intellect. He is the model of what a true heir should be!"
The Patriarch's words were an iron decree, a public anointment that cemented Jian Feng's status and silenced any lingering dissent. The "failed prodigy" was officially and forever buried, and in his place stood the clan's most celebrated hero.
That evening, in the quiet privacy of the Patriarch's personal study, the family was reunited. The weight of command fell away, and Su Liena embraced her son tightly. "You have made us all proud, Feng'er," she whispered, "but you have also made us worry. The path you walk is a heavy one."
Jian Tianlong nodded, his expression serious once more. "Your report was… concise," he said, the word heavy with unspoken meaning. "I understand what you chose not to write. The matter of the 'missing' prisoners will be handled. My Shadow Guard has already been dispatched to the location you provided. We will see what secrets the Umbral Hand can be persuaded to share."
He trusted his son's judgment completely, understanding that the carefully crafted narrative was a strategic move in itself.
"But that is a battle in the shadows," the Patriarch continued, turning his gaze to a grand map of the Empyrean Realm that dominated one wall. "Your next battle will be in the light. The Celestial Selection in the Imperial Capital is no mere tournament. It is the stage upon which the next generation's hierarchy is decided. The Empyrean Emperor himself will preside. The heirs of the White Tiger Royal Family, the Phoenix Empress, the other great clans and ancient sects—they will all be there."
He looked at Jian Feng, his eyes intense. "Your objective is not simply to win. It is to observe. To measure. Identify who is a threat, who may be an ally, and who is a fool. You are the face of our clan's future. You must establish our dominance for the coming age."
He was not sending a contestant. He was sending a commander.
Later that night, Jian Feng stood in the courtyard of his reinstated residence—the opulent Palace of the Tranquil Mind, the home reserved for the clan's primary heir. The servants bowed low, their faces filled with awe. He had returned to his rightful place, but he and the clan were forever changed.
On a jade table in the center of his room lay a golden, intricately carved scroll, delivered by his father. It was the official invitation to the Celestial Selection. His entry ticket to the grandest stage in the realm.