The Cunning Treasure Hunter

The stench of blood filled the air.

Ezekiel couldn't believe what had just happened.

His severed right arm.

His crushed left leg.

"This… this can't be. I clearly struck you… Kuhhk…"

The Ten Thousand Ghosts Descend Sword Technique wasn't an ordinary martial skill.

It was a deadly art, paired with the Shadow Veil Step, which had claimed the lives of countless experts, even those at the early stages of Kingdom of Harmony mastery.

But it hadn't worked.

"Are you… are you beyond the Kingdom of Harmony? Kuhhk! But why would someone like you…?"

"Ah, it seems my appearance has changed so much that even old acquaintances can't recognize me," the man replied coldly.

"A master of your caliber… there's no way I wouldn't know you… Kuhhk!"

Ezekiel, also known as the Shadow's Sole Blade, was the Pavilion Master of the Bloodshadow Pavilion, a shadowy group under the Akrest Clan.

He was a near-peak assassin, said to be the disciple of the legendary assassin known as the Dark Lord.

By all accounts, there were few in the Central Plains whom he couldn't kill.

Even his mastery of the Shadow Veil Step and Ten Thousand Ghosts Descend Sword Technique had reached heights that could overwhelm most swordsmen.

And yet, he had been utterly, humiliatingly defeated.

How?

He couldn't comprehend it.

"Who… who are you? Who could you possibly be to… Kuhhk!"

"Who am I?" the man mused. "My comrades call me The Burning Tiger of Heaven."

Ezekiel's pupils trembled—not because he recognized the name, but because he didn't.

As an assassin, he prided himself on knowing the identities of all significant figures in the martial world.

But the name The Burning Tiger of Heaven meant nothing to him.

"The Burning Tiger of Heaven…? I've never heard of that name before…"

"Of course not. It's a name used only within the Reverse Heaven Unity. It's never leaked beyond us."

The Burning Tiger of Heaven.

A burning blade beneath a blazing sky.

And the Reverse Heaven Unity.

"Reverse Heaven Unity… you mean… Kuhhk!"

"Do you really have so many questions? You're about to die anyway."

The man raised his sword, channeling his internal energy.

The brilliant glow of his sword expanded, forming a condensed blade of blue crystal.

A Sword Energy Condensate, the mark of a Kingdom of Harmony expert.

Ezekiel's eyes widened—not because the man had reached the Kingdom of Harmony, but because the technique was so familiar.

"You… you're… from the Akrest Clan, aren't you? Kuhhk…"

"So you finally recognize it? Now die."

The man unleashed the Akrest Clan's Boundless Sky Sword Technique, First Form: Sky Crushing Descent.

A vast force descended as though the entire sky were bearing down, encapsulating the power of the heavens.

It was an incomplete Sword Energy Condensate, proof that the wielder had only recently entered the Kingdom of Harmony.

But that didn't matter.

Ezekiel realized why his Ten Thousand Ghosts Descend Sword Technique had failed so miserably.

It was the Akrest Clan's Boundless Sky Sword Technique, the martial art of a noble lineage.

A sword that embodied the heavens' might.

A technique immune to the cunning and treachery of an assassin's blade.

"This… this can't… be…"

He couldn't finish his sentence.

From the top of his head to the tip of his sternum and down to his navel, his body was cleaved in two.

"Gurrrhhh…"

Even his final words were drowned in the gurgle of blood and bile.

A Past Cloaked in Blood

The man, now splattered with blood, glanced between the grotesque remains of Ezekiel and his own blood-stained sword.

He sighed, seating himself in the black ebony chair that Ezekiel had occupied moments ago.

"…Yes, I am the Akrest Clan's bastard child, Jordan," he muttered bitterly.

He flicked the blood off his blade with a practiced motion and sheathed it.

Now all he could do was wait.

As he sat, his thoughts wandered to his painful past.

A bastard son, cast aside by his own family.

Yet in the Akrest Clan, talent mattered above all.

At one point, he had even surpassed Ebon Akrest and become a candidate for Clan Head.

If only Ebon Akrest's wife hadn't given birth to Theron…

If only the Sword Sovereign hadn't chosen that grandson of Celestial Martial Body…

"Fine. Cutting my wrists and ankles, exiling me from the clan—I can live with that," he muttered as he rubbed at the faint scars on his limbs, reminders of severed tendons.

He had been discarded.

Left to die alongside his mother's corpse.

"But they shouldn't have killed my mother. Those bastards…"

He spat on the lifeless face of Ezekiel, a final act of contempt.

Waiting for the Future

As he stood, memories of the slaughtered Bloodshadow Pavilion assassins replayed in his mind.

One particularly foolish one had his fingers severed one by one during interrogation.

Soon, a young girl was supposed to arrive at this location.

Anyone from the Bloodshadow Pavilion who approached would be killed.

As for the innocent girl?

That… would be decided when they met.

The Decision to Remain Silent

Grandmaster Gregory resolved to keep everything he had learned a secret.

There was one reason for his decision: killing the hidden successors of the Bloodshadow Pavilion was justified.

The Akrest Clan would have no grounds to object, as long as Iron Fist Sect genuinely believed that Bloodshadow Pavilion was a branch of Midnight Celestial Pavilion.

But what if Iron Fist Sect had known the group was actually the Akrest Clan's Shadow Division?

What if the Nomads' Sect Seven-Knot Elder had known and led the attack?

That would mark the beginning of a mud-slinging war with the Sword Sovereign himself.

That was something Grandmaster Gregory could not allow.

The Assembly for Battle

"Elder Raymond has already gathered his men and is ready to launch the attack," said Raymond.

The Iron Fist Sect monks preparing for battle tightened the cloth around their fists and gripped their cudgels, their eyes gleaming with resolve.

Grandmaster Gregory gave a small bow of gratitude.

"Please convey my thanks to the Leader of the Nomads' Sect. Homage to Infinite Light."

"Oh, no thanks are necessary. Please, ensure that everyone returns safely. Especially Vera, don't overexert yourself," Raymond replied, his gaze lingering on the young disciple.

Vera blinked, puzzled by his concern. She couldn't understand why he was singling her out.

Of course, Raymond had no intention of letting this connection go to waste.

A young martial artist who had defeated the Akrest Clan's Young Master.

In twenty years, when she reached her prime, she might rival the Sword Sovereign himself.

Many prodigies had failed to overcome the wall before them, but…

This girl was different.

"You seem very worried about me, Branch Leader."

"Well, of course! You're the brightest talent in the Central Plains! Ha ha ha!" Discover hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire

Even Marcus didn't understand why her back straightened with pride at those words. It was a strange, new feeling for her.

The Deception of War

As the Art of War teaches: All warfare is based on deception.

This principle was well known to Grandmaster Gregory, Master Nathaniel, and even Valen.

They applied it flawlessly.

Ethan was disguised as Vera and sent to the meeting place.

When Vera had heard the plan, she had noticed the trembling in Ethan's eyes.

'If it's for my junior sister… But… it's for Vera. Even so…'

In the end, Ethan could do nothing but put on the wig.

To everyone's surprise, despite the slight difference in height, the result was a stunningly cold and elegant woman.

Of course, Ethan was so embarrassed and humiliated that he couldn't even lift his head.

Yet his dazed posture ended up making the impersonation all the more convincing.

The Mission to The Central Plains

"Do you think Senior Brother Ethan will be safe?" Vera asked quietly.

She, Master Nathaniel, and the Infernal Guard Monks were carefully making their way through the forest. Their target was the Bloodshadow Pavilion Safe House in The Central Plains, the location revealed by Sev.

"He will be fine, Benefactor Vera. The Grandmaster is with him," Master Nathaniel reassured her.

Grandmaster Gregory was an unrivaled master on the verge of the Middle Kingdom of Harmony.

There were no known assassins who had reached such heights, except for the legendary Dark Lord of the past.

No matter who came, Ethan would be safe.

The same could not be said for Sev, whose condition was deteriorating rapidly due to the Parasite of Death.

When he had insisted on joining the mission, Vera had firmly made him sit down beside Marcus.

"I am more concerned about you, Benefactor Vera," Master Nathaniel said.

"Me?"

"Yes. The Infernal Guard Monks are warriors of the Infernal Guard, trained to spread justice and eliminate evil. While not entirely orthodox, they are accustomed to killing for a greater purpose. But you…"

Vera understood his concern.

Despite her reputation as a rising martial artist nearing the Absolute Peak, she was, to all appearances, just a slight, frail 14-year-old girl.

It was natural for them to assume she had never taken a life.

But Vera only smiled bitterly.

Her first kill had been Darian. She had felt nothing when she killed him.

Her second had been an assassin who ambushed them—a Bloodshadow Pavilion Deputy Pavilion Master, Kieran. That had felt no different.

"You're worried I might not be used to blood. Thank you for your concern," she said.

"…You are remarkably perceptive, Benefactor Vera," Master Nathaniel replied, nodding with a shrug.

Even when he spoke in roundabout ways, she grasped his meaning immediately. She was no ordinary young girl.

Still, even if she claimed to be fine, it didn't ease his worries.

Master Nathaniel had seen it too many times—those who opened the gates to killing only to lose their sanity.

Soft-hearted people often couldn't handle the weight of taking a life. They couldn't bear the knowledge that they had ended another person's existence.

"Even so, if your heart becomes heavy, you can always confide in—"

"—Master Nathaniel. There's a problem," interrupted one of the Infernal Guard Monks, who had been scouting ahead.

The urgency in his voice left no doubt that something serious had occurred.

"What is it?"

"Their stronghold… it appears someone else has already destroyed it."