CHAPTER 312: CHAPTER 312 ACCURACY

Riley returned home under the cover of dusk, his steps quick but calculated.

Clutched tightly in his hand was the strange stone he had risked so much to acquire.

He moved through the quiet halls like a shadow, heading straight to his chambers.

The first thing he did was secure the door and conceal the stone in a compartment only he knew about.

No one—not even his father—could learn about this yet.

From that day forward, Riley changed.

He spoke less, ate little, and rarely left his quarters.

Gone was the carefree young man who had dominated the training grounds; in his place stood someone consumed by secrecy.

Every night, by candlelight, he studied the stone with a fervor bordering on obsession, tracing the strange markings etched into its surface, searching for meaning in patterns that seemed to whisper secrets just beyond comprehension.

After a few days of this, he made a decision.

The next morning, he sought out his father in the council chamber.

Alexander, lord of the clan, sat reviewing scrolls and speaking with his advisors when Riley entered.

The room quieted; it wasn’t often the young master appeared in these halls anymore.

"Father," Riley said, his voice steady, though his eyes burned with an intensity that startled the older man.

"I want every book in our collection sent to my room—history, legends, martial arts manuals, even the ones we keep locked away."

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Every book?" he repeated slowly. "That’s quite the request, Riley. What is this about?"

The advisors exchanged curious looks, but Riley ignored them.

"I don’t want to be disturbed unless it’s absolutely necessary," he continued, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Alexander dismissed the others with a wave of his hand. When they were alone, he turned to his son.

"Explain yourself," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Your sudden secrecy concerns me. You’ve abandoned your training and the affairs of the clan. Do you think this is the time for... reading?"

"Trust me, Father," Riley said, stepping closer. His expression was unlike anything Alexander had ever seen before—serious, unyielding, and almost... desperate. "This is bigger than you and me. Bigger than even our clan."

Alexander’s brows knit together.

For years, he had prepared Riley to inherit leadership, to govern their people with wisdom and strength.

Yet now his son was walking a path shrouded in mystery, speaking of things beyond comprehension.

"Bigger than our clan?" Alexander repeated, studying his son’s face as if searching for answers in his eyes.

"Yes." Riley’s voice was a low vow. "If I’m right, everything we know—our clan, our land, even the way we live—will change."

For a long moment, silence filled the chamber.

Alexander could feel the weight behind those words, and though unease gnawed at his mind, he also sensed something else—resolve.

Finally, he exhaled slowly and nodded. "Very well," he said. "I’ll grant your request. But, Riley..." His gaze hardened slightly. "I’ll be watching closely."

Riley said nothing, only bowed slightly before turning to leave.

But as he walked away, his grip tightened unconsciously.

In his mind, the stone pulsed like a living thing, its strange energy calling to him.

***

From that day onward, Riley’s life took on a new rhythm.

Every waking moment was dedicated to two things—absorbing knowledge and unraveling the secrets of the stone.

He ordered every scroll, manuscript, and tome from the clan archives to be brought to his quarters, locking himself away in solitude.

He could have solved the mystery in an instant.

A single glance with his true perception would have stripped the stone bare, laying all its secrets before him.

But that would have been reckless. Too dangerous.

The knowledge would be too sudden, too complete—impossible to explain when others started asking questions, especially that oldest fogey would someday inspect his roots.

No, that wasn’t an option. He needed patience.

There was a reason he had chosen this body, this clan, and this obscure corner of the continent.

Everything was part of a plan set in motion long before his soul crossed the boundary between lives.

And the key to that plan—the treasure he had sought in order to achieve his goal here.

It was exactly this stone.

Calling it a stone was almost insulting.

In truth, it was a relic of a bygone era, a fragment of divinity, pulsing faintly with dormant power.

This was an immortal’s treasure, something mortals couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

With it, entire sects had risen and fallen in the age of legends.

Now it rested in his hands, silent and inscrutable.

To awaken its true nature, Riley had to understand it fully, not merely claim it.

That meant studying the old-fashioned way: poring over ancient texts and trying to unravel and decipher the stone’s strange markings on its surface.

It was a painstaking process, but one he embraced with unwavering focus.

***

Time flowed quietly, years bleeding into each other like ink on parchment.

One year passed. Then two. Then three.

Seasons turned, the world changed, and still Riley remained steadfast in his pursuit.

By the fifth year, he had become a different man.

At twenty-three, he bore little resemblance to the impetuous youth of before.

His frame was lean yet powerful, his movements precise, and his eyes... his eyes held depths that could drown the unprepared.

The Rice Clan prospered during this period.

Peace reigned, trade flourished, and their influence in the region solidified.

For Riley, this stability was a blessing. It gave him the privacy he needed to work undisturbed.

His father, Alexander, had long since stopped pressing him to take an active role in governance.

The only time Alexander interrupted his son’s seclusion was during their monthly sparring matches.

Those spars had become legendary within the clan, even though no one outside the training hall ever saw them.

Alexander, once hailed as the strongest warrior of his generation, had never managed to defeat his son—not even once.

At first, he believed Riley’s talent had simply blossomed.

But as the years passed and the gap only widened, unease began to coil in his heart.

Riley fought with a calmness that was almost unnatural, his every move precise, his strength unfathomable.

Yet despite his growing curiosity, Alexander never pried.

A part of him was relieved—if his son possessed such power, the clan’s future was secure.

Still, in his private moments, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Riley was walking a path far removed from the rest of the world.

And Alexander was right.

What no one knew—what no one could even imagine—was the bond silently forming between Riley and the stone.

Years of study had yielded fragments of understanding, pieces of a puzzle that hinted at something far greater than he had anticipated.

The stone wasn’t just powerful; it was extremely unique.

It pulsed faintly when he touched it.

Riley’s lips curved in a faint smile whenever he heard that whisper, though his eyes remained cold and calculating.

When Riley finally completed his research, he wasted no time putting his plans into motion.

Summoning a few trusted servants, he handed them a list of ingredients—common herbs and roots easily found in the forests, along with some rarer plants the clan kept stored for medicinal purposes.

To the servants, it looked like nothing more than an eccentric request.

To Riley, it was the culmination of years of preparation.

Once the ingredients were gathered, Riley dismissed everyone and locked himself inside his chamber.

For hours, he worked in silence, his hands steady as he sliced roots, crushed dried leaves, and measured each component with meticulous precision.

Steam filled the room as the concoction boiled over a low flame, the mixture releasing a pungent odor that even made Riley’s eyes sting. He ignored it.

Finally, when the liquid turned a deep, murky gold, he removed the pot from the fire and poured the brew into two small cups.

It didn’t look appealing—nor did it smell remotely drinkable—but that was irrelevant.

The true value of this elixir lay not in its taste but in what it could do.

He sent a servant to fetch his parents.

Minutes later, the door opened, and Alexander and his wife stepped inside.

Riley stood waiting with the two steaming cups on a tray.

"What is this, Riley?" his mother asked, her nose wrinkling the moment the odor reached her.

"Oh heavens... it smells awful!" She held the cup gingerly, as though afraid the stench might seep into her hands.

"It’s good for you, Mother," Riley said calmly, though his tone left no room for refusal. "Drink it."

He hadn’t added any sweet herbs or spices to mask the bitterness; such additions risked upsetting the delicate balance of the ingredients.

This was not a drink meant to please the senses.

It was a formula crafted for one purpose alone—a miracle, disguised as a foul brew.

His mother hesitated, glancing between the cup and her son’s unwavering gaze.

In that moment, she saw something in his eyes—a quiet certainty, a confidence that brooked no doubt.

With a resigned breath, she tilted the cup and swallowed it all in one gulp.

The bitterness hit immediately. She almost gagged but forced herself to keep it down.

Wiping her lips, she let out a shaky laugh. "Ugh... that was worse than anything I’ve ever tasted."

Riley turned to his father, his expression challenging. "Your turn."

Alexander stared at him for a long moment before smirking faintly.

"If your mother can stomach this vile thing, then so can I." Without hesitation, he lifted the cup and downed the contents in a single swallow.

The taste was sharp, almost burning, but Alexander didn’t flinch.

When he lowered the empty cup, his eyes flicked to his son. "There. Satisfied?"

But before Riley could answer, it began.

Alexander stiffened slightly, a strange warmth blooming in his chest and spreading through his veins.

His wife gasped softly, her hands trembling as a similar sensation coursed through her body.

A surge of vitality swept over them, subtle at first but rapidly intensifying.

Their breathing quickened; their hearts pounded as if something deep inside had been awakened from a long slumber.

Alexander’s eyes widened.

He could feel strength—raw, vibrant strength—stirring within his muscles, and his vision seemed sharper, colors brighter.

His wife pressed a hand to her face, astonished by the sudden clarity flooding her senses.

"What... what did you give us, Riley?" Alexander demanded, his voice low and laced with awe.

Riley only smiled faintly, his expression unreadable. "Something good," he said softly. "Something that will change everything."