The Legendary Mage (Alavin) novel Chapter 380

No one truly knew how many mighty warriors the Iron clan possessed. They were scattered across the realms, polishing their magic and rarely returning home. Only when a member of the Iron clan fell prey to treachery did they converge from all corners to exact vengeance in force.

"Indeed, over thirty years ago, the White Lion Estate met a grim fate for slaying three valiant kin of the Iron clan. Ten days later, a host of over fifty, armed with iron blades, stormed the estate. Not a soul was spared among the three thousand inhabitants. The Lord of the White Lion Estate was impaled atop the highest peak and drained of his blood. It was a sight most ghastly to behold. In those days, the White Lion Estate was a renowned power, scarcely less formidable than Amber Valley now.

“Since their rise, the Iron clan has built their fearsome reputation on such ruthless acts. Their infamy is not confined to the Northlands; they have wrought tragedies in other domains as well. Throughout the Royal Realm, the name of the Iron clan is one to be reckoned with. I never imagined they would venture here and in such numbers."

"I recall now, the Iron clan held their family council last month! Every two years, kin from all over gather for this event, then resume their wanderings. They must have just concluded their council when they received the news and hurried here."

The sudden involvement of the Iron clan also alarmed the Eight Orders Commanders and the Five Lords.

"The Iron clan!" They were well aware of the Iron clan's might, and even the face of the Stellar Precepts Commander grew solemn. He saw the patriarch of the Iron clan, their top warriors—nearly all the notable names had come.

It was rare for them to meddle in the Northlands' affairs, and they never interfered with the doings between the Eight Orders and the Five Lords before. Today marked an unprecedented first.

"Lord Iron, I trust you are well," greeted the Stellar Precepts Commander with a light smile.

In the wilderness, at the forefront of the Iron clan's ranks, was a formidable man with a greatsword slung over his shoulder. His strides were sure, his features stern yet striking, exuding innate authority. His wild mane fluttered about, and his narrow eyes glinted sharply through the tangles of hair. With a mere cold lift of his gaze, he disregarded the others, leading his kin toward Stormcast.

"Lord Iron, this matter concerns the Eight Orders and the Five Lords. You would do well to remain uninvolved," warned the Hidden Essence Commander coldly. "You may be powerful, but not more so than the Eight Orders, nor the Five Lords. This is not your stage for arrogance."

The Iron clan's patriarch halted, casting a sideways chilling look toward the sky, as behind him, his clansmen gripped their war blades tighter, poised to lift them in unison, their aura growing even more formidable.