Soulbound: Dual Cultivation-Chapter 388: Realization of betrayal

Lucas did not waste time once the meeting ended. He gathered his squad with quiet efficiency, his movements steady despite the lingering weakness in his body, and within the hour they were riding again with Rus as their destination. The land grew harsher the farther they went, the air thinner and colder, and the silence between them heavier than before. Everyone felt it. This march carried more weight than any they had taken before, and no one needed to say it out loud.

Two days passed like that, filled with cautious scouting, brief halts, and restless nights. Lucas spent most of the time thinking, replaying the king's words in his mind, weighing every possibility, every face he trusted, every shadow that might be hiding something sharper beneath it. He did not voice these thoughts. A commander did not spread doubt unless it was already too late.

It was near dusk on the second day when Patrick appeared.

Lucas noticed him before anyone else did. A familiar presence at the edge of his perception, moving with panic rather than calm. That alone made Lucas uneasy. He raised a hand slightly, signaling the squad to slow, and turned his horse toward the young man as Patrick stepped fully into view.

Patrick stopped a few paces away, breathing hard but not from exertion alone. His face looked drawn, his eyes restless, and there was a tightness in his jaw that Lucas recognized immediately. This was not the expression of a man bringing routine information.

Lucas studied him in silence for a moment, then spoke evenly. "You are early."

Patrick swallowed, nodded once, and forced himself to meet Lucas's eyes. "I was told not to scout again, not only me, they got more scouts now."

That single sentence set something cold twisting in Lucas's chest.

He dismounted slowly, feeling the ground beneath his boots, grounding himself before continuing. "Who told you that."

Patrick hesitated, his hands clenching at his sides. "The general did not speak to me directly," he said, his voice lower now. "It came from higher than him. Orders passed down with no room for questions."

Lucas felt the weight of the squad's attention behind him, though none of them interrupted. Even the ice belle had gone still, her gaze fixed sharply on Patrick.

Lucas stepped closer, keeping his tone calm. "Tell me everything you heard, not what you think it means. Start from the moment you were summoned."

Patrick took a shaky breath. "They are moving," he said. "Not just preparing. They are already repositioning forces, and they are doing it with certainty. They are not guessing anymore."

Lucas felt his pulse quicken, though his face remained composed. "Certainty about what."

Patrick's voice dropped almost to a whisper. "About Rus. About you. About this march."

Lucas's fingers curled slowly into a fist at his side as the implications snapped into place faster than he liked. He searched Patrick's face for exaggeration, for fear turning shadows into monsters, but what he saw instead was dread mixed with resignation.

Patrick shook his head, his eyes glistening. "This is not friendly news," he said quietly, almost apologetically, as if he wished the words could be taken back the moment they left his mouth.

Lucas closed his eyes for a brief second, then opened them again, already bracing himself for what would come next.

Lucas did not speak immediately. He simply stood there, staring past Patrick as if the road ahead might confess something if he looked hard enough. The pieces slid into place one by one, and the weight of the conclusion pressed down on his chest until breathing felt deliberate rather than natural.

It was impossible. That was the first thought that surfaced clearly. Rus could not move that fast. Even with prepared roads, even with disciplined legions, even with cultivators assisting logistics, an army did not reposition itself across regions in a matter of days unless it had been waiting for the signal long before the march ever began.

Lucas exhaled slowly. "They already knew," he said at last, his voice low and steady, though something inside him cracked quietly. "They knew where we would go before we even left."

Patrick nodded, his shoulders sagging. "That was the feeling in the camp. No confusion. No scrambling. Orders were clean and confident, like they had rehearsed them."

Lucas looked down at the ground, then briefly at his own hands, scarred and still faintly darkened where the inferno's corruption had not fully faded. His mind moved faster than his words now, retracing every meeting, every glance exchanged, every silence that had once seemed harmless.

Henrietta's calm certainty.The Queen's composed approval.The Empress's quiet smile.

He hated himself for even thinking it.

The ice belle drifted closer, her presence cool and sharp against the tension thickening the air. "You are angry," she said softly, not accusing, just stating what she felt.

Lucas let out a bitter breath. "I am angry because this should not be possible," he replied. "And yet it is."

Jennifer shifted uneasily behind him. "You mean there is a spy," she said carefully, as if hoping the word would soften if spoken gently.

Lucas shook his head. "Not a spy," he answered. "Not in the usual sense."

Bartho frowned. "Then what."

Lucas lifted his gaze, and for the first time since Patrick arrived, his eyes carried something raw and unguarded. "A traitor at the highest level," he said. "Someone who had access to decisions before they were ever announced. Someone whose word would never be questioned."

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating.

Patrick's voice trembled. "The general mentioned something else," he said hesitantly. "He said if Valerion truly marched to Rus, then the net would finally close."

Lucas felt the words strike deeper than any blade. He straightened slowly, resolve hardening around the pain rather than pushing it away.

"So this is what they want," he murmured. His jaw tightened. The realization hurt more than he expected, not because of the danger ahead, but because betrayal at that level meant trust had already died somewhere far closer than the battlefield.

He looked at Patrick again, his tone gentler now. "You did well," he said. "You came when you were told not to wait. That choice may have saved thousands."

Patrick bowed his head slightly, tears threatening again. "Does that mean my mother and brother."

Lucas met his gaze firmly. "It means I will not forget them," he said. "And neither will Valerion."

He turned back to the squad, his posture settling into something colder, sharper. Whatever grief stirred inside him would have to wait. There was no room for it now.

"One of three people," he thought grimly. "And all of them stand close enough to cut the king's throat without drawing a blade."

Lucas mounted his horse again, the motion smooth despite the storm raging in his chest.