From Ruin to Reign Leander's Unbreakable Will novel Chapter 378

Quincy had been thrown off Westvale Peak by Leander. Fortunately, members of the Riverstone family were already stationed at the foot of the mountain and managed to save him in time—otherwise, he would've been dead.

Even so, all four of his limbs were broken, and his body was damaged.

Within a few hours, the news spread across Highcliffe's upper circle like wildfire. The fact that the Riverstone family's two young heirs had been tossed off Westvale Peak sent shockwaves through the city's elite. Everyone who heard it was stunned beyond words.

The Riverstones of Highcliffe might not be counted among the top aristocratic families, but their power rivaled—if not exceeded—that of the city's four major elite families.

Their roots in Highcliffe went back further than anyone's. The family had followed the founding ancestor in his campaigns, earning their title through loyalty and valor. Generation after generation, the Riverstones had risen to prominence—producing governors, generals, and political leaders.

The family head, Logan Riverstone, had once served as Captain General, one of Astria's highest-ranking and most influential military figures. Though retired, his authority still carried weight; his students and followers held key positions throughout Astria's military and government.

His eldest son, Dorian Riverstone, was barely fifty yet already a major general. The second son, Lachlan, governed one of the three Northeastern provinces—handpicked by the central government as provincial governor.

Among the third generation, Skelly Riverstone was considered the least promising, content to drift within Highcliffe's social scene. But Quincy was different. He had joined the army at eight, risen through the ranks over more than a decade, and now held the rank of Captain—a meteoric rise for someone his age, a young officer destined to become a pillar of the military.

One family, two generals, a provincial governor, and a young officer already commanding respect—such a lineage was formidable. In both the political and military arenas, the Riverstones' influence far outstripped that of Highcliffe's four major elite families.

And yet, even a family this powerful had been humiliated. Someone had dared to strike them, injuring both young heirs of the Riverstone family without mercy—swift, brutal, and utterly unrestrained.

No one could believe it. Not even Highcliffe's four major elite families would have the nerve to do such a thing.

Who could possibly have that kind of courage—to lay hands on Quincy and Skelly Riverstone?

The powerful families of Highcliffe were all watching in silence, waiting to see how things would unfold. But inside the Riverstone Residence, the air was frozen and heavy—like the heart of winter itself.

The head of the Riverstone family, Logan, sat in his military-green coat, his palm slamming down on the armrest of his chair. His eyes burned like twin flames.

"Outrageous. Absolutely outrageous!"

Both of his grandsons had been rushed into intensive care one after another. The fury boiling inside him could have set the room ablaze.

He had spent his life on the battlefield—charging through gunfire, leading counteroffensives, carving out victories that had built the Riverstone name. Under his protection, the family had flourished, standing shoulder to shoulder with Highcliffe's four major elite families.

But now, both heirs of the third generation were gravely injured. The blow was crushing.

If it had been Skelly alone, he might have kept his temper in check. But Quincy was the family's lifeblood, their future. And now, even with the best doctors and treatments available, they said he might never walk properly again.

For a soldier, that was the end.

With Quincy fallen, half the Riverstone family's foundation had collapsed overnight.

"Find out who did this," Logan roared. "I don't care who it is—he'll pay the price. The Riverstones will never rest until this debt is settled!"

At his command, the entire Riverstone family mobilized. When Dorian, Quincy's father, received the news, he immediately led several senior officers out of camp, heading straight for home.

The attack that sent both Riverstone heirs tumbling down Westvale Peak had shaken Highcliffe to its core.

And yet, Leander remained completely unaware.

While the city churned with unrest, his life at school went on as quietly as ever. Calm, detached, and focused, he was already planning his next step—his training in spiritual strength.

Normally, the Transcendent Realm meant refining one's inner energy into pure innate vitality. But the Devourer's Ninefold Path—the technique Leander practiced—was different. From the very beginning, it allowed him to generate something far more primal and formidable: Primordial Energy.

Though Primordial Energy was powerful, it could only strengthen his body. To elevate his spirit, Leander still needed the help of rare treasures.

He had decided to begin cultivating his spiritual strength because he understood what was required to reach the highest level of the Transcendent Realm—the Infernal Crown Transcendent.

That realm wasn't defined by physical might, but by the state of one's mind and spirit.

To ascend to the level of Infernal Crown Transcendent, one needed not only immense Primordial Energy but, more critically, a spiritual strength powerful enough to undergo a complete metamorphosis.

This spiritual strength, often called divine sense, was a force beyond the physical. When mastered, a single thought could carry one across miles, command the elements, and bend the world to one's will. It could even be shaped into invisible attacks that shattered the enemy's consciousness.

The cultivators he had encountered before did possess some level of mental assault, but it was nothing more than a shallow imitation. A true master of spiritual strength could shift mountains, part seas, and suppress the world with a single thought.

Though Leander was a martial artist, he intended to perfect his spiritual strength as well. Only when body, Primordial Energy, and spirit all reached their peaks and fused as one could he claim the title of the strongest.

As far as he knew, the cultivation of spiritual strength was divided into five stages: Spirit Awakening, Spirit Convergence, Spirit Breakthrough, Spirit Condensation, and Spirit Projection.

Spirit Awakening marked the first step—when one's spiritual strength first stirred, allowing entry into the path of cultivation.

Spirit Convergence came next, when the mind grew tranquil and resolute. The spiritual strength condensed inward, nourished and refined, allowing the user to wield faint traces of spiritual strength in combat.

After waiting ages for the elevator, the four of them finally reached the fifth floor.

At the entrance, four men in black suits stood guard beside a sleek security scanner. The whole setup looked like the front door of a private club rather than a student hangout.

Leander was just about to speak when Nathan stepped forward, flashed a glossy VIP card, and was immediately waved through. A staff member hurried over to lead them inside and assign them a table.

Leander couldn't help but laugh under his breath. Nathan's earlier claim that he wasn't qualified to enter had been nonsense from the start. As a young heir from Seagate, Nathan's status was easily high enough.

The whole invitation had just been an excuse to drag him along.

"So, this is what you meant by not qualified, huh?" Leander said dryly, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Caught lying, Nathan scratched the back of his head with an awkward grin and tugged at Leander's sleeve. "Come on, Leander. We just wanted you to hang out with us. You're already here—play a round or two, will you?"

Leander sighed and shook his head helplessly, though he still reached for a cue stick.

The place was, admittedly, extravagant. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead; fine art lined the walls; even the floors were polished glass. Each billiard table occupied its own spacious section—dozens of square yards—separated by rows of sleek indoor greenery.

There were three classes of tables, not billed by the hour but by the day. The most basic one cost five thousand, while the top-tier Royal Table went for a staggering fifty thousand a day.

Pricey as it was, the venue spared no expense in creating its allure. The hostesses were strikingly beautiful, dressed to turn heads, with elegant bar tables circling each section. Drinks, pastries, and gourmet snacks were served nonstop—every detail radiated indulgence.

Nathan, Luke, and Evander were clearly no strangers to the place. They moved about with practiced ease, and even the usually modest Luke was learning how to flirt with the hostesses.

Leander humored Nathan with a match, deliberately holding back and losing by a single ball. Nathan beamed like he'd just won a championship.

Leander smiled faintly, took a cappuccino from a passing server, and sat down to rest.

That was when he felt it—a presence so familiar it stopped him cold.

He turned his head toward the far end of the hall, to the area reserved for the Royal Table.

There, standing gracefully beneath the soft glow of a chandelier, was a woman in a fitted dress, speaking with another young beauty beside her. Nearly every man in the room had his eyes fixed on her.

Leander's gaze sharpened. It was Yvette—the woman he hadn't seen in a long time.