Burne’s hands twitched in the corner. He wanted to cut Theron’s head off with every fiber of his being, but he forced himself to stop looking so intently at the boy’s side profile and instead look at his Patriarch.
“Is that so?” Dean Thistle asked, his voice flat and not carrying the slightest hint of his earlier amusement. It was quite clear that if Theron didn’t have a very good reason for saying what he said, he would kill him right here.
There was a certain dignity that strong cultivators needed to have.
Maybe if it wasn’t for Thralix and this setback, he would have already acted and Theron wouldn’t even know when his head flew from his shoulders.
“If you were ready to start your war now, you wouldn’t be in this Imperial Academy.”
“There’s a difference between winning a war of attrition and winning a war by a landslide. Why choose the former when you can have the latter?”
The words weren’t empty. If the Thistles were so easy to defeat, the Nightingales would never allow this disrespect to continue.
The fact they had such an alliance with the Firewings, and yet still let the Thistles rampage like this… well, that spoke volumes about something that Theron still hadn’t fully understood yet.
“In other words, you aren’t ready,” Theron said plainly. “Killing her will get you the face you’ve lost back, and likely strain and shatter the relationship between the Nightingales and the Firewings, but the gains don’t outweigh the losses.”
“Yeah? And why is it that two Clans without the best of relationships have come together in the first place? Do you think talents like Thessa grow on trees? What about the crown prince of a nation? To choose to allow his Empress to be the seed of another country, do you think it’s easy to make that decision?”
Dean Thistle’s eyes narrowed.
“I would suggest you get to the point.”
“The two Imperial Clans are obviously working together for reasons I can’t fathom. And judging by your reaction, you have no idea either. You’re taking a risk by killing her, and you know that.
“You think at worst, even if they choose to continue working together, their relationship will be strained enough that there will be something you can take advantage of. But there’s another possibility, and that’s that instead of straining their relationship, you’ve instead solidified their determination to crush an annoyance.”
Dean Thistle didn’t reply, his expression becoming harder and harder to read.
Theron had already noticed this sort of pattern with old, experienced men. Sometimes, it seemed quite easy to goad emotions out of them. But then they reached a point of seriousness where they became as calm as lakes.
It was at this point that they were the most dangerous, the most unpredictable.
Theron was unmoved.
“The smartest thing to do isn’t to kill her, it’s to defeat her. Then, you should turn your attention to the Luminescent Moon Sect.”
“Is that so?”
“There’s no need to play ignorant. It’s obvious that the Sects are going to play a huge piece here. You have the Vermouths on your side, and the Nightingales have Thessa. Is it a coincidence both of them have chosen the Sect?”
“Burne also isn’t very subtle. Clearly, to you, controlling the Sects is far more important than controlling the Academies. You took over the Academy so easily, but are still waiting for a chance at the Chosen of the Luminescent Moon Sect.”
Dean Thistle’s gaze shifted toward Burne.
“He’s talking nonsense, Dean,” Burne said through gritted teeth.
What a joke. In a room full of children and teachers, it went over all of their heads. Just because you—the little monster—picked up on it didn’t mean that it wasn’t subtle. ŖÅƝȏʙĘṡ
Dean Thistle didn’t say anything.
“If you want to control the Luminescent Moon Sect, control its Chosen. Make sure that Thessa doesn’t have the time to improve as much as she needs to compete. That means stopping her from getting her hands on the Silver Resonance Flame she’s obviously looking for.
“The odds you can do that are low. But you can certainly delay, and in the meantime, you should find a method to force the hand of the Sect elders to move their Chosen competition up.”
Dean Thistle continued to lean back in his chair, tapping his finger on the table. Every knock sounded far louder than it should, as though the wood itself was resonating with him.
“And defeating her, you’ll do that, supposedly?” he finally spoke.
“What do you think restrains fire best? She won’t last 20 exchanges,” Theron said indifferently.
If Theron were to attack to kill, with as much preparation as he had for Thralix, Thessa would die just as easily.
A single stroke.
“And how would you suggest you do that?”
In order for this to help the Thistles, Theron had to be one of them. But Theron had no real affiliation with them. Of course, those in the shadows would know the moment Theron appeared to do this, but it wasn’t enough.
Thessa’s death… now that was a message anyone could understand.
This, however…
“Marry Malaya to me,” Theron said calmly.
Dean Thistle blinked. For a moment, his frosty indifference cracked.
’Pathetic.’ Theron thought, but his expression was anything but. In fact, it looked like there was a light of anticipation in his eyes.
…
Theron walked out of Dean Thistle’s office indifferently. After he rounded a corner, he palmed it for balance, gasping for breath. The spasms in his body continued.
It had taken everything in him to not collapse. Hiding the state of his body right now was especially difficult.
But in the end, he had succeeded.
’Now they think I have a weakness to take advantage of,’ Theron thought, his pain not changing the chilling cold in his eyes as he pulled himself up, continuing to walk forward slowly.
After showing off so much, he needed something to ease Dean Thistle’s heart. So why not let him think Malaya was his weakness?
By the time he realized he had no control over him at all…
It would be too late.
Now, he had a battle with a certain princess consort to prepare for. As for how it would be happening…
The plan had long been formulated.