The Sinful Young Master - Chapter 318

Capítulo 318: Where the Fox Walks Among Sheep

But they were not the only watchers in the sky that day.

Hours after their departure, another shape descended from the clouds.

This dragon was different from the others—larger and more ancient, with scales that shimmered between green and black. Its presence radiated power that made the air itself seem heavy with menace.

It had a definite shape, its claws long and sharp enough to plunder. Wings spanned a few metres, with a skeletal structure visible through the thin membrane.

Its shadow covered the scene and the mountains as the dragon slowly descended.

The creature landed where the battle had taken place, its massive form dwarfing the scattered remains of the dead dragons.

For a moment, it stood perfectly still, surveying the carnage with eyes that held intelligence far beyond mere animal cunning.

Then, with a sound like breaking glass, its form began to shift.

Scales melted into flesh, wings folded into arms, and the great serpentine head compressed into human features.

Within a few seconds, the transformation was complete.

Where the dragon had stood, a man now crouched among the remains.

He was tall and lean, with sharp features that retained hints of his draconic nature. His eyes were the colour of old gold, and his black hair fell in waves to his shoulders. He wore simple travelling clothes, but the power that radiated from him marked him as something far more dangerous than he appeared.

The clothes appeared after his transformation was complete.

Then the dragon now turned man moved through the scene with careful attention, examining the broken bodies of the four-armed riders and the partially consumed remains of their dragons.

His expression remained neutral, but his eyes held a cold fury that spoke of personal investment in the outcome.

“Voriack,” he murmured, nudging one of the twisted corpses with his boot. “I warned you about underestimating the target.”

He knelt beside the remains of the largest dragon, running his fingers through the claw marks that had ended its life. The wounds spoke of massive strength and precise brutality.

Standing, he turned his gaze toward the south, where the scent trail led.

His enhanced senses could still detect the lingering presence of both drake and rider, even hours after their departure.

The hunt was far from over.

“Looks like we should start a hunting party,” he said to the empty air, his voice carrying notes of grim anticipation.

The transformation back to dragon form was swift and fluid, and within moments, he was airborne once more, wings carrying him toward the gathering storm clouds.

Behind him, the island returned to its previous silence, disturbed only by the wind whistling through the bones of the dead.

***

From his position on the overlooking hills, Lorryll watched the unfolding drama in Tekkora’s central square with cold satisfaction.

He had chosen his vantage point well—a rocky outcrop that provided clear sight lines to the city centre while remaining concealed from casual observation.

Through his long telescope, he could see every detail of Eude’s orchestrated terror.

Liliana was not with him, but her warnings echoed in his mind with uncomfortable clarity.

Just days before, she had returned from her visit to the Naemarys clan stronghold, her usually composed demeanour shaken by what she had learnt.

The clan’s main house had made their position clear—Jolthar was not to be underestimated, and direct confrontation with him was to be avoided at all costs.

The reports had spread through the clan like wildfire.

Jolthar’s disappearance in the northern territories had been troubling enough, but the confirmation of Lodawg’s death had sent shockwaves through the Naemarys hierarchy.

Lodawg had been no mere hedge mage—he was a mage of considerable power, skilled in both combat magic and political manipulation.

That he had fallen to Jolthar’s hand spoke volumes about the young man’s growing abilities.

“The main house will handle him,” Liliana had said, her voice tight with worry. “We are not to engage directly. Too many have underestimated what he has become.”

Lorryll had bristled at the implication of weakness, but he was pragmatic enough to recognize wisdom when he heard it. And he can’t say no to his wife, as he loved her dearly.

He had seen Jolthar’s power firsthand during their previous encounters and had felt the weight of that dominating power of Jolthar’s pressing against his consciousness.

The young man was no longer the uncertain boy he had once been—he was becoming something far more dangerous.

So when Eude had approached him with plans for Tekkora’s subjugation, Lorryll had agreed to provide support rather than direct participation.

His role was to ensure that whatever happened in the city remained contained, that news of Eude’s methods would not reach the imperial court or other potential allies of the baroness.

The spy network he had cultivated over the years now served to create a barrier of silence around Tekkora.

Messengers who might carry word of the city’s plight found themselves waylaid by bandits. Caravans that might have witnessed the attack were diverted to other routes.

Communication devices that could have carried pleas for help experienced mysterious failures.

It was a delicate operation, requiring precise timing and careful coordination.

But Lorryll was skilled at such work, and he had resources that made containment possible. Whatever horrors Eude unleashed upon Tekkora would remain hidden from the outside world until it was far too late for intervention.

Through his telescope pipe, he watched as Eude stood before the terrified crowd, Cleora and her children kneeling at his feet.

The merchant lord’s theatrics were impressive—he understood the value of spectacle in breaking the spirit of resistance.

Fear was a tool, and he wielded it with the skill of a master craftsman.

“Break their spirit,” Lorryll murmured to himself, echoing the strategy they had discussed. “Make them submit willingly, and they become assets rather than liabilities.”

The plan was elegant in its simplicity.

Eude would demonstrate his power through carefully orchestrated terror, showing the citizens of Tekkora that resistance was futile.

Once they submitted to his authority, he would have not only their resources but their loyalty—or at least their resignation to his rule.

More importantly, he would have a stronghold to deal with Jolthar when the young man inevitably returned.

And when he did, he would find not a rescue mission but a carefully prepared trap.

The submitted citizens would be hostages, their lives hanging in the balance.

The city’s defences would be turned against him.

Every advantage would belong to Eude, while Jolthar would be driven by desperation and righteous fury—emotions that a skilled manipulator could exploit.

“Let him come,” Lorryll whispered, his eyes fixed on the distant square. “Let him see what his absence has cost them.”

Lorryll shifted his position slightly, adjusting his view to observe the crowd’s reaction better. He could see the fear in their faces, the way they pressed closer together as if proximity could provide protection. These were not warriors or hardened survivors—they were people of Tekkora, and merchants were also present among them, families who had grown soft on prosperity and peace.

Perfect targets for what Eude had in mind.