Soulbound: Dual Cultivation-Chapter 386: Reporting to the Usurpers camp

Patrick slowed his horse as the usurpers camp came into full view, rows of dark tents spread across the plain like a living thing waiting to devour anything that came too close. The banners of the usurpers fluttered above them, heavy and oppressive, and with every step his chest felt tighter, not from exhaustion but from fear that threatened to undo him before he even reached the center.

He forced himself to breathe steadily, just as Lucas had instructed. One breath in, one breath out. Panic would get his mother killed. Panic would get his brother killed. He repeated those thoughts silently until his hands stopped trembling.

Two guards crossed their spears in front of him as he approached the largest tent. "State your business," one of them demanded, his eyes sharp and suspicious.

"I have a report for the General," Patrick replied, lowering his head respectfully. "Scouting information from the western approach."

The guards studied him for a long moment before one of them stepped aside and lifted the tent flap. "Go," he said. "Do not waste his time."

Patrick nodded and stepped inside.

The interior of the tent was dimly lit, maps spread across a large table, stones and markers carefully placed to represent troop movements. The General stood over it, tall and broad, his presence suffocating even without him saying a word. He did not look up immediately, his finger tracing a line across the map.

"You are late," the General said calmly. "Late scouts tend to be dead scouts."

Patrick swallowed and dropped to one knee. "I had to be careful, General," he said, keeping his voice steady with great effort. "But I completed my mission."

That made the General look up. His eyes were cold, calculating. "Then speak."

Patrick took another breath, feeling sweat trickle down his spine. "The Valerion army is advancing slower than expected," he began, just as Lucas had instructed. "They sent a forward squad to scout and clear paths. The squad number is consistent with previous sightings, and their total army strength stands at around seven thousand."

The General raised an eyebrow slightly. "Seven thousand," he said. "You are certain."

"Yes, General," Patrick replied quickly. "I counted their banners and formation changes during movement. They are cautious but not hiding their numbers. It seemed they had passed the abyss unscathed."

The General tapped the table once, the sound sharp in the silence. "Who leads the forward squad."

Patrick hesitated for a fraction of a second, then answered. "Xavier." "The masked one."

At that name, something flickered across the General's face, interest sharpening into something darker. "The burned one," he murmured. "So he lives."

"He does, but he's weak." Patrick said, lowering his gaze. "And he rides with a powerful frost entity. Their movements are disciplined, but they are exposing themselves by pushing ahead of the main force."

The General straightened and circled the table slowly. "You did well," he said at last. "Very well."

Relief almost buckled Patrick's knees, but he remained still, waiting.

"Return to your position," the General continued. "When you are ordered to scout again, bring me more. Locations. Habits. Weaknesses."

Patrick nodded deeply. "I will not fail," he said, and this time the words carried a weight that was painfully real. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

As he left the tent, his heart pounded violently against his ribs, but beneath the fear there was something new, hope. For the first time since his mother had been taken, he was not just surviving. He was fighting back, even if the blade he wielded was made of lies.

The General remained standing over the map long after Patrick had left the tent, his fingers resting against the crude markings that represented the abyss. His brows slowly drew together as his thoughts churned, irritation creeping into his otherwise disciplined expression. The abyss was not meant to be crossed so easily. It was corrupt, and alive in its own way, a place that had swallowed entire armies in the past without leaving even bones behind.

"So they walked through it," he murmured to himself, his voice low and controlled. "Unscathed."

He straightened and paced once around the table, his boots thudding softly against the packed earth. Their expectations had been clear. The abyss would bleed Valerion dry, fracture their formation, break morale, and if fate was kind, claim Lucas outright. When word had filtered through the shadows that the shadow dragon had descended and that Lucas had been caught in its inferno, the General had allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction.

"He should have died there," he said quietly, his jaw tightening. "Anyone else would have."

His gaze drifted to a corner of the tent where a sealed message lay half burned, an earlier report from one of their spies stationed near the abyss routes. Xavier injured and burned. The report had spoken of chaos, of terrifying light, of a domain overwriting the abyss itself. At the time, the General had dismissed half of it as exaggeration born from fear.

Now Patrick's words echoed in his mind. Xavier lives but he's weak.

The General stopped pacing.

"Weak," he repeated, tasting the word as if weighing it. "But alive."

That combination troubled him far more than Lucas being strong. A wounded beast was unpredictable, especially one that had already defied death more than once. The General leaned over the table again, planting both hands firmly against the wood as he stared down at the map.

"They should not have made it through," he said to the empty tent. "Not without paying a terrible price."

He exhaled slowly, forcing his mind into order. The abyss had failed them. The dragon had failed them. Their hopes of letting nature do the killing had collapsed. That meant one thing and one thing only. They would have to take matters into their own hands.

His eyes shifted to a smaller marker placed deeper within their territory, a position only a handful of people knew the true meaning of. Ken.

"If Xavier is weak," he thought, "then now is the moment."

He turned sharply and called out, his voice snapping with authority. "Messenger."

The tent flap lifted almost instantly as a young officer stepped inside and dropped to one knee. "General."

"Prepare a sealed transmission," the General said, his tone cold and deliberate. "Mark it urgent and private."

The officer hesitated only long enough to ask, "Recipient, sir."

The General's lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. "Ken," he said. "Tell him the abyss has failed us, the dragon failed us, and Xavier lives."

He paused, eyes hardening as he added, "Tell him Xavier is wounded, weakened, and still foolish enough to lead from the front."

The officer nodded, already understanding the weight of those words. "At once, General."

As the officer turned to leave, the General spoke again, quieter this time but no less dangerous. "And tell him not to miss this opportunity."

When the tent fell silent once more, the General straightened and folded his hands behind his back, staring at the map as if he could will the pieces to move faster.

"Survive the abyss," he said softly, almost thoughtfully. "Very well, Xavier. Let us see if you can survive what comes next."