The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Two days later, Ezekiel, the leader of the Bloodshadow Pavilion, received a reply from the caretaker of the Bright Peace Safehouse. The message, delivered swiftly by a skilled courier adept in lightfoot techniques, confirmed the success of the operation's first stage.

The Letter Read:

"The girl is in our care.

Occasionally, she refuses to eat, but threatening her with her brother's death compels her compliance.

Per your instructions, we will prepare to transport her carefully."

The instructions to move Elise from Bright Peace to The Central Plains were clear.

These safehouses were designed specifically for the Bloodshadow Pavilion's covert operations, granting Ezekiel full authority over their use and management.

"Good," Ezekiel said with a sharp grin. "She'll be transported here soon."

"Why go to the trouble of moving her? Isn't that risky?" asked the middle-aged assassin who had earlier suggested threatening Sev with a letter.

His plan had been simple: force Sev out of the Iron Fist Sect with a carefully worded threat. But Ezekiel had taken it a step further, ordering Elise's transfer.

"If I threaten him with a letter, what would you do in his place?" Ezekiel countered.

"I… I wouldn't have many options," the assassin admitted after a moment.

Exactly. With Sev captured and unable to fulfill his mission, his purpose was null. But Ezekiel's true goal was the death of Vera.

"Sev is no longer of use. What value does a captured pawn have? He only needs to be eliminated."

"And what's your plan, Master?"

"Watch and learn," Ezekiel replied coldly.

Within the Iron Fist Sect Temple

Two days after Master Nathaniel and Vera returned from their visit to the Nomads' Sect, a meeting was convened in the Hall of Visitors, the guest reception hall of the Iron Fist Sect. Monks gathered to discuss the situation and determine their next steps.

"This must be resolved immediately!" one monk declared.

"To attempt murder within Mount of the Moon—such audacity cannot be tolerated!"

"All who are responsible must be enlightened! Homage to Infinite Light…" added another, grimly chanting the Buddhist invocation.

Though trained to value compassion, the monks of the Iron Fist Sect were not averse to taking lives when it came to declared enemies of justice. For centuries, the Iron Fist Sect had deemed the Bloodshadow Pavilion an enemy of the martial world.

"Silence," commanded Abbot Gregory, the Abbot of the Iron Fist Sect.

His voice carried the weight of profound inner energy, soft yet resonant, silencing the hall with its sheer authority.

"We are taught by the compassionate teachings of Buddha to approach all matters with mercy," he began. "But the Bloodshadow Pavilion is a declared enemy. This temple, under my leadership, has long upheld its decree against them."

The monks listened intently, knowing the Abbot's rare display of anger was a serious matter. His usual calm demeanor and faint smile had given way to a cold and determined tone.

"I intend to respond firmly and decisively to this matter."

"May I ask, Abbot, how do you plan to uncover the hidden remnants of the Bloodshadow Pavilion?" asked Valen, breaking the silence.

The Abbot smiled faintly. "That answer lies with Vera Benefactor."

"Her?"

At that moment, two figures entered the hall: Vera and Sev.

"That man is the one who dared to plot murder on Mount of the Moon!" one monk exclaimed.

"Disgraceful! Truly disgraceful!" echoed another.

The room buzzed with murmurs of discontent.

"Isn't he one of the Bloodshadow Pavilion's remnants?"

The Abbot struck the floor with his staff, the sound resonating throughout the hall like a bell. The clarity it brought silenced the gathering.

"Quiet. This matter concerns Vera Benefactor. She will explain."

"Thank you for your kindness," Vera said, bowing respectfully.

Taking a step forward, Vera began her explanation.

"For reasons unknown, the practitioners of Bloodshadow Pavilion martial arts have targeted my life repeatedly," she began.

The room erupted into whispers again. Just as with the Nomads' Sect, the notion of Bloodshadow Pavilion successors was shocking enough. That Vera had survived three separate attacks only added to the astonishment.

"But that is not all," she continued.

"It isn't?" asked the Abbot, his gaze steady.

"No, Abbot. Their leader is holding this man's younger sister hostage and ordered him to kill me."

At this, the monks' expressions softened. Killing was a grave sin, but coercion under threat of a loved one's life was a matter that evoked compassion.

"And just now, an arrow carrying this letter arrived," Vera said, producing a folded piece of paper from her robes.

She stepped forward and handed it to the Abbot, who accepted it solemnly.

The room fell into silence, awaiting the Abbot's verdict.

The Iron Fist Sect Temple's Response

Even Valen couldn't help but express his outrage after reading the letter.

"What insolence!" he exclaimed.

"Homage to Infinite Light…" sighed Master Nathaniel, echoing the sentiment of the others.

The contents of the letter were infuriating, even to seasoned monks like Nathaniel, who rarely reacted strongly.

"What is it, Abbot?" Nathaniel asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

The Abbot's expression was unusually grave. "They propose exchanging this man's sister for Vera Benefactor."

A stunned silence fell over the gathered monks, their faces pale with shock. The sheer audacity of such a proposal was almost unfathomable.

At that moment, the door to the Hall of Visitors flew open, and Marcus stormed in, his face as pale as the others, having heard the letter's contents.

"Absolutely not. That is something we cannot allow!" he declared vehemently.

A Tavern in The Central Plains

In a small tavern in The Central Plains, a middle-aged martial artist sat with a plate of dumplings and a cheap bottle of liquor. His peculiar attire drew the attention of the other patrons.

His white silk robe, embroidered with light gray patterns, was luxurious, far beyond what the average tavern could afford to see. Yet, the edges were frayed, the sleeves torn, and there were holes scattered across the fabric, giving him the appearance of a vagabond thief.

But his demeanor was anything but lowly. His lithe frame, the refined craftsmanship of his sword—adorned with silver fittings—resting against the table, and his serene, almost ethereal aura exuded the bearing of a master. Stay tuned to empire

Despite their curiosity, none dared to approach him.

"Aria's letter, is it?" he muttered, breaking his dumpling in half and chewing it slowly. He opened the missive, stamped with the seal of the Everstone Clan's Internal Affairs Office, but the paper appeared blank.

Still, he held it up, mumbling as if reading aloud.

"Is he mad?" someone whispered from a neighboring table.

"Shh! Watch your mouth," another cautioned.

The middle-aged man paid no mind to the murmurs. The message was not visible to the naked eye. The Everstone Clan used a special technique known only to the Reverse Heaven Unity: a medicinal ink developed by the Immortal Pharmacist that revealed itself only under concentrated inner energy.

The Letter Read:

"The Young Master of the Akrest Clan has been defeated.

The victor was a young girl from Mount Suncrest, named Vera.

Though still a child, her resolve and understanding are formidable.

The Akrest Clan will not forget this.

The defeat of their heir signals that the next era may no longer belong to them, and they surely realize this.

The Bloodshadow Pavilion's involvement is anticipated.

While the Everstone Clan is mobilizing its information network, there's no doubt that attempts will be made on the girl's life.

This child was chosen by Aiden. If there's one thing to trust, it's his judgment in selecting talents.

Within a few years, she may be capable of challenging even the Sword Sovereign.

Protect her."

The martial artist crumpled the letter in his fist, his expression darkening as he muttered, "Challenging the Sword Sovereign, huh…"

His voice was low, drowned out by the noisy tavern. He downed a swig of cheap liquor, suppressing the bitterness welling in his chest, and stood to leave.

The tavern owner scowled, assuming the man intended to leave without paying. "Money!" he barked.

"I left it on the table," the man replied nonchalantly.

Beside the plate of dumplings lay several silver coins. The tavern owner's demeanor changed instantly, his face lighting up with delight.

"Farewell," the man said, stepping out into the cold air.

He began heading north, toward the outskirts of The Central Plains and east of Mount of the Moon, to a place no one would think to search.

"The Akrest Clan is trying to eliminate her," he muttered, scoffing at the notion. If the Sword Sovereign himself came, it might be a different story. But Ebon Akrest, the current clan head, was several leagues beneath him.

"I owe a debt to the Immortal Pharmacist and the Everstone Clan," he thought. "When my martial arts were crippled, their formations and medicine restored me."

But more than that, he loathed the Akrest Clan. Few in the world despised them as much as he did.

As he walked, a faint green flame—the Threefold Calamity Fire—began to flicker in his hand, consuming the letter. The medicinal ink burned away in a soft glow, leaving no trace.

The only line in visible ink was a single phrase at the back, marking the recipient:

The Burning Tiger of Heaven.