When no objections were raised, Lan Yujin placed the Clan Head's Mantle on Mark's shoulders, a heavy, intricately embroidered robe that symbolized the weight of leadership.

"You are the Clan Head," Lan Yujin said. "Do you accept this position?"

Mark's voice rang clear and strong as he answered, "I do."

Lan Yujin nodded, and the crowd erupted in a slow, steady applause as the final step of the coronation ceremony concluded.

As the ceremony was coming to an end, a figure stood at the far end of the courtyard, wearing the unmistakable garb of the Imperial Envoy. The familiar figure had arrived earlier and had watched the entire ceremony in silence.

Mark's eyes flickered over to the envoy, glancing at the scroll in his hand. It became obvious to Mark that the Imperial Palace indeed decided to invite him formally.

As the final applause died down, the Imperial Envoy stepped forward as Mark expected. His movements were graceful and controlled as he approached Mark, bowing deeply.

"Clan Head Lan," the envoy said in a formal tone, "The Emperor has allowed me to attend your coronation as a sign of his recognition of your new position. He also sends his congratulations."

Mark nodded, offering a small, respectful bow in return. But there was no warmth in his smile. "Thank you," He replied coolly. "Although I expected someone from the imperial family as the envoy to congratulate me."

The envoy's eyes darkened at Mark's tone, but he said nothing. After all, he knew that the Imperial Palace had its eyes on Mark for future collaboration.

"His Majesty," the envoy responded calmly by pushing forth the scroll he was carrying, "has invited you to the Imperial Banquet in three days. There, you will have the opportunity to meet with him personally, and your clan's future will be discussed. Consider this an opportunity to establish your position with the Empire."

Mark nodded once more, but said nothing. "I will think about it," he said instead with a voice devoid of emotion.

The envoy frowned for a moment, but he could only bow again before stepping back into the crowd.

Polite applause rippled through the hall as Mark sat down at the Clan Head Seat while Lan Yujin stepped away. Looking at everyone who was expecting a few words, Mark's first act as Clan Head was to lift a hand, cutting the noise short. His voice rang clear across the hall.

"I have no long speeches. I have but three orders."

The guests exchanged puzzled looks. Elders shifted uncomfortably, as if sensing something ominous.

"First," Mark declared, his gaze sweeping over the envoy, "the Ancient Lan Sect no longer abides by the orders of the Heavenly Ocean Empire. From this day onward, we are independent."

"Wha…"

The silence that followed was like thunder. Gasps broke out among the guests. Several elders straightened so abruptly that their chairs scraped across the floor.

The imperial envoy shot to his feet and was the first to react. "What nonsense is this? You would—"

Mark's calm eyes pinned him in place. "Sit down, envoy. This isn't the Imperial Palace. Here, you can't run off your mouth as you wish." After a pause, he went back to address the guests and his shocked clan members. "The war against the Ravagers has nothing to do with us, but the Emperor is trying to push us, not because he has trust in us or something. It is simply because he was threatened by our increased strength. If it were a few months ago, neither the Lan Sect nor the entire Azure Frost Dominion would have had the power to face the might of the palace. But now, with Blizzard Pegasus on our side, we don't lack the strength to defend ourselves. Keeping this in mind, if the Emperor wishes for our friendship, he shall treat us as allies and not servants, not under my rule."

The envoy froze, anger trembling at his jaw, but he could say nothing in front of so many witnesses.

Murmurs swept through the crowd. "Has he gone mad?" "Independence." "Does he think the Emperor will allow this?" "Even if Blizzard Pegasus is strong, can it still go against the entire Imperial Army?"

Mark raised his hand again, silencing them as he continued. "Second. We modernize. No more clinging to outdated ways out of blind tradition. You've all seen the adamantine guns. Lan Xia…"

At his word, Lan Xia stepped forward, carrying long black weapons with gleaming silver barrels. She set them before the clan head. As the air grew heavier, several martial artists frowned, recognizing the foreign, metallic killing tools.

"I don't care what you think of these weapons," Mark said, his voice firm. "If any of you wish, you are welcome to train as Gunmasters. Incorporate our Lan fighting styles with firearms. Adapt, or you'll be left behind."

Some guests scoffed under their breath. An old elder slammed his palm against the arm of his chair. "This is heresy! Our sect's foundation is sword and spear, not these… these barbaric contraptions!"

Mark didn't flinch. "Tradition means nothing if it chains us to weakness."

He let the words linger, cutting deep into the silence, before he gave his third and final command.

"And third—we make peace with the Fire Clans."

This time, the entire hall erupted.

"Impossible!"

"They killed our ancestors!"

"Have you lost your mind?!"

The elders rose in protest, some nearly shouting over one another. Their faces were red with outrage.

"Silence…"

Mark's calm didn't waver. He raised his cup of ceremonial wine and drank it in one go, then set it down with a soft click.

"Their blood feud with us is meaningless. It is old men's hatred, not our future. Before you all shout, I shall remind you that the will of the clan lies with its clan leader. And I intend to make peace with our so-called enemies that the Imperial Palace created in order to lessen our strength. As our clans became bitter enemies, our respective guardians, who were basically siblings born from the same source, have become bitter rivals as well. As the person who inherited both bloodlines, I believe I'm the perfect person to unite our strength.

Under my rule, the Lan Sect will not look backward. We will usher in a new era. And in that era, this realm will revolve around us—not the Emperor, not tradition, and not the shackles of petty wars."

The hall fell into stunned silence. Even the envoy seemed momentarily at a loss.

Mark straightened, his robes catching the light like rippling waves. "This is my decree as Clan Head. Those who follow me will rise with me. Those who resist… are free to leave."

The words hung in the air, heavy and irreversible.