"They are all active in India?" Vikram asked in a questioning tone.
"Yes. And here's where it gets interesting. All three sects are seeking alliances with powerful families and influential figures. They claim they need help searching for certain objects, but they refuse to disclose what exactly they're looking for."
Vikram frowned. "So, in return, they offer benefits?"
"Exactly," Arya confirmed. "Each of them tried to approach me through different channels, asking for my support. They promised powerful medical herbs, potions that extend lifespan, and even access to magical treasures."
A sharp glint flashed in Vikram's eyes. "Did you accept?"
"Of course not. I told them I'd think about it. But there's more."
Arya's voice dropped into an even more serious tone.
"Apart from these three sects, I also found out that several individual cultivators—powerful ones—are roaming freely across India."
"Rogue cultivators?" Vikram muttered.
"Not just rogues. Some of them are actively recruiting people for unknown organizations. They're moving silently, but it's clear that they have a specific purpose."
Vikram's mind connected the dots. Something was happening. A larger picture was forming.
"And what are they looking for?"
There was a short pause before Arya answered. "That… I couldn't find out. Whatever it is, they're being extremely careful. But one thing is certain—whatever they're searching for, it's important enough for them to reveal themselves in public."
A name suddenly flashed in Vikram's memory.
The 28th Sovereign Emperor of the Common Realm.
His mind went back to the wand he had deciphered for Mohini at War God Mountain. If his guess was correct, then all these people—the sects, the rogue cultivators, and the mysterious organizations—were likely searching for one thing:
The lost weapons of the 28th Sovereign Emperor.
A sense of urgency surged in Vikram's chest.
"Arya, listen carefully." His voice was low, commanding. "Do not make any deals with these sects. Don't accept their gifts, and don't give them any information about our family."
She clicked her tongue. "You think I'm that naive, brother-in-law? I knew something was fishy the moment they approached me. That's why I wanted to inform you first."
Vikram sighed. "Good. Keep your distance. And one more thing—can you keep an eye on their movements?"
"Already on it. My sources are monitoring their activities as we speak."
Vikram smirked. "That's my girl."
She chuckled. "Flattery won't get you a discount on my beauty products, Vikram."
He rolled his eyes. "I don't need them. My face is naturally charming."
Arya burst into laughter. "Fine, fine. I'll call you if I get more intel. Be careful, Vikram. If these sects are truly searching for something, you might get caught up in their game sooner or later."
Vikram exhaled deeply. "I already am."
With that, the call ended.
As the Ambassador car sped through the city, Vikram's thoughts were racing.
Hidden sects… rogue cultivators… missing artifacts…
And he?
He was walking straight into the lion's den of the Rajput family, where power struggles, politics, and hidden motives awaited him.
This was just the beginning.
-
Bandra West… Rajput Family Mansion…
The Ambassador car rolled through the grand iron gates of the Rajput family mansion. The old car was standing in stark contrast to the luxurious fleet of high-end cars parked in the driveway.
Unlike the last time he visited, Vikram Das was not just allowed entry—he was welcomed with respect.
His keen eyes scanned the surroundings as the car moved forward. Something was different. Security had been tightened. New surveillance cameras lined the mansion walls. Armed guards were positioned at key points. Several unfamiliar faces, most likely elite security personnel, loitered discreetly among the usual staff.
As Vikram's car slowly approached the grand entrance, he noticed a large crowd gathered outside the estate gates—people from the film industry, directors, producers, and actors, all waiting to meet with the Rajput family, the undisputed rulers of the Indian entertainment world.
But none of that concerned Vikram.
His focus remained razor-sharp.
He was here for one reason only—to protect Princess Maya.
The massive double doors of the mansion swung open as soon as Vikram stepped out of his car. A long line of Rajput family members stood at the entrance, their expressions reverent and respectful.
This was unexpected.
As he walked forward, whispers spread through the crowd.
"He looks so young, yet…"
"They say he has inhuman strength!"
"Did you see what happened yesterday? He defeated the monk like he was nothing!"
Some of them even bowed slightly, as if welcoming a divine figure. A few of the elders even muttered words of respect, addressing him as if he were some renowned master.
This was unusual.
Do they really think I'm a cultivator? Vikram thought, suppressing a smirk.
Normally, a cultivator in his position would have soaked in this admiration, possibly even demanded greater hospitality. But Vikram Das was not that kind of man. He had no interest in status, admiration, or power.
Before he could say a word, the Rajput family members hurriedly guided him inside.
Servants rushed forward, placing a silver tray in front of him, laden with exquisite desserts, fine tea, and aromatic welcome drinks.
"Please, Master Das, have some refreshments."
Vikram remained standing, his eyes coldly scanning the faces around him.
He could sense it—this wasn't just a warm welcome. It was something more.
They feared him.
They respected him.
Vikram Das wasn't a fool. Yet, he had no intention of entertaining their misconceptions.
Before Vikram could speak, a presence filled the room.
From the large staircase at the center of the hall, two men descended slowly, each step measured and deliberate.
The first was Prathap Rajput, the current patriarch of the Rajput family. The second was the Old Patriarch, a man whose wrinkled face and silver-streaked hair carried the weight of decades of leadership.
All the Rajput family members immediately stepped back, their once lively expressions turning solemn and obedient.
Then, the patriarch spoke.
"Leave us. All of you."
There was no room for argument. Even the servants quickly shuffled out, leaving only Vikram Das, Prathap Rajput, and the Old Patriarch in the hall.
For the first time since entering, Vikram felt the weight of their gazes.
Vikram, out of sheer respect for their age and status, stood up straight as the patriarch approached.
To his surprise, Prathap Rajput suddenly bowed his head slightly.
"It is an honor to meet a powerful cultivator—especially one so young—is a blessing I never expected in this lifetime."
The Old Patriarch also nodded in deep appreciation, his voice filled with gratitude.
"We are deeply indebted to you, Elder Das, for accepting the responsibility of protecting my granddaughter, Princess Maya."
Vikram's eyes flickered.
Elder?
Respected cultivator?
Now it made sense.
This entire reception, the bowing, the whispers of admiration—they genuinely believed he was a powerful cultivator.
A lesser man might have seized the moment, played along with their assumptions, and gained unimaginable power within the Rajput family.
But Vikram Das was not a fraud.
"Mr. Patriarch, please stop speaking in such a manner."
Both the patriarch and the old patriarch raised their eyebrows, confusion flickering in their eyes.
Vikram met their gazes directly, his voice echoing in the grand, empty hall.
"I am not a cultivator."
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.
A heavy silence followed.
For the first time, the expressions of both patriarchs changed—shock, disbelief, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed their faces.