The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Chapter 57 The Weight of Vengeance

A massive, sturdy black ironwood carriage rolled down the road.

Four sinewy horses pulled the carriage, their powerful muscles rippling with every step.

This was the personal carriage of the Akrest Clan, carrying both the Clan Leader Ebon Akrest and the Young Lord Theron.

The journey back was as silent as the journey there, the atmosphere heavy with Theron's defeat.

But Theron knew one thing about his father:

He wouldn't simply let this go.

His father wouldn't take it out on him. No, the repercussions would likely fall on Vera.

And yet, Theron didn't feel worried.

Why was that?

Perhaps because it was laughable.

Yes, laughable.

A mere mortal trying to corner a monster?

Laughable.

An adult scheming against a child seemed absurd.

And for a human to plot against a true monster—it was ridiculous.

No matter the perspective, Ebon had nothing to gain from opposing Vera.

Yet, there he was, grinding his teeth.

Theron merely let his father be.

There was no point in saying anything. Ebon wasn't the kind of man to listen.

As the silence stretched on, the carriage abruptly came to a halt.

"...What's this?"

A rare occurrence indeed.

Stopping the Akrest Clan's carriage?

Few in the martial world would dare.

And fewer still could halt the black ironwood carriage reserved for the Clan Leader and Young Lord themselves.

Only figures of immense strength and stature would warrant such deference.

Ebon stepped out of the carriage quietly.

He found himself face to face with Valen, the Flamestrike Master.

A man once famed as the Flamestrike General, now a Division Leader of the Heavenly Unity Corps's special operations group, Heaven's Net Division.

It was said his Blazing Dragon Sword Technique could incinerate everything within thirty paces of a single strike.

"It's been a while, Ebon."

"It has. How have you been holding up?"

"Not well. I won't find peace until I've burned the bastard alive."

"...I suppose. You always said your wife's sharp mind was what drew you to her."

Valen's expression twisted, but he quickly steadied himself with a deep breath.

He had no intention of losing his temper at an old friend like Ebon.

"So, where are you headed?"

"To Mount Suncrest."

"Mount Suncrest? What business do you have there?"

For someone like Valen, a Division Leader of the Heaven's Net, to head to Mount Suncrest—it was unexpected.

He wasn't deployed for mundane missions. His involvement typically signaled a catastrophic event, one where entire sects were wiped from the martial world.

"My niece is there. She's traveling with nothing but a single bodyguard."

"Your sister married into the Everstone Clan, if I recall?"

"Indeed."

Her bodyguard was none other than Caleb, the Sword That Splits Skulls.

A master who created and perfected the Cloud Piercing Sword Technique, a supreme expert on the verge of the Heavenly Realm.

Yet even such a man seemed inadequate to Valen.

The memory of his son's gruesome death was still fresh in his mind.

"And one more thing," Valen added.

"What is it?"

"I'm no longer the Division Leader of the Heaven's Net."

After stepping down from his post, Valen had reflected deeply.

He had come to realize that, like others, he too may have burned someone's son or daughter alive.

'...But I can't give up on revenge.'

Even if it meant perpetuating an endless cycle of vengeance.

Even if it meant his soul would never know peace.

Valen couldn't let go of his resolve for one final kill.

In the Mount Suncrest Sect, inside the Sect Leader's office, the tension was palpable.

"You're joking, Sect Leader," Thorne said with a polite yet strained smile.

But Gideon knew better.

That smile was a warning: a clear signal to retract his words while there was still time.

When Thorne wasn't smiling, he was known as the Sword Emperor of Mount Suncrest, the strongest among the Three Masters of Mount Suncrest.

Yet, even as the Sword Emperor, his authority didn't surpass that of the Sect Leader.

Titles, after all, were sometimes the strongest weapons in reality.

"Am I wrong, Senior Brother? This has always been our tradition," Gideon said with a grin.

Thorne's expression hardened.

This was no longer a matter of personal strength.

It was a matter of the Sect Leader's authority.

And overturning the Sect Leader's decision would harm the Mount Suncrest Sect.

"So, you're suggesting we send a fourteen-year-old girl, barely a month into her training, on a Wandering Trial?"

"With skills like hers? She'd survive anywhere. Senior Brother, you worry too much."

The Wandering Trial was a grueling tradition.

It involved wandering the nine provinces with nothing but the clothes on one's back, a test of survival and adaptability.

The Mount Suncrest Sect, despite its Daoist roots, believed detachment from worldly affairs was meaningless.

For a Daoist to learn and share wisdom with the world, they must understand the ways of the world.

This was why every disciple of Mount Suncrest Sect underwent at least one Wandering Trial—a tradition of wandering the martial world with nothing but their skills and resolve.

But that didn't make it easy.

Within Silent Frontier, no one dared lay a finger on anyone wearing the embroidered cherry blossom insignia. But outside the region, it was a different story.

The journey only began when they stepped beyond the boundaries of Silent Frontier.

Gideon's smile lingered as he recalled his agreement with Ebon—a last resort plan he had shared before leaving.

Whatever followed, he would handle it in his own way.

The exact size and purpose of Akrest's secretive organizations were unknown, but they surely existed. Just as Thorne had used hidden means to bring together Jace and Dylan, Akrest would have its own clandestine operations.

"For someone so young, it's better to keep the journey simple and clear. What do you think about sending her to the Fiery Blade clan in Eastern Mountain ?" Gideon asked.

"...Isn't that a bit far?" replied Thorne.

"Better than sending her to Skyreach Mountains, don't you think?"

Gideon smirked, a sharp glint in his eyes.

A vein bulged on Thorne's temple, but he knew his hands were tied.

As Sect Leader, Gideon had authority, and tradition dictated that the winner of the Inter-Sect Competition must embark on the Wandering Trial.

The issue lay in Vera's age.

Had Marcus or Jace won, there would be no problem. Both were seventeen—practically adults in the rough world of the Central Plains.

But Vera was a mere fourteen-year-old girl.

No matter how much she wielded a sword and carried herself as a martial artist, she was still a child.

For her, the harshness of the martial world was an undeniable danger.

Moreover, she had been a disciple for only a month.

"...We'll attach conditions to the journey," Thorne said.

"You know I can't send Aiden with her. He's her master," Gideon replied, shaking his head.

"I know. Then send three of Aiden's other disciples with her."

"Two."

"Gideon, are you serious about this?"

"Take it or leave it, Senior Brother."

The Blooming Peak Pavilion, just before bedtime.

The disciples lingered in the corridors, chatting after finishing their training.

"Hey, Noah, think your father's shop could get me a sword like that?" asked Ethan, practically drooling as he stared at the blade hanging from Marcus's waist.

It was the Black Iron Sword gifted to him by Vera.

Now, it had become a symbol of Marcus's position as the First Senior Brother among the third-generation disciples.

And he was making the most of it.

Every morning, he trained under his master, and every afternoon, he led group training in the sparring grounds of the Blooming Peak Pavilion.

What changed everything was the sword.

The once unruly disciples now followed him with wide eyes and admiration. Even the youngest students, who were usually noisy and chaotic, had fallen in line.

"You really want it that badly, huh, Ethan?"

"First Senior Brother, I'm practically dying of envy here. I'm barely holding myself back!"

A grin spread across Marcus's face. Teasing Ethan had become a source of great amusement for him.

"Did you know something, Ethan?"

"What?"

"You're making it so obvious. That's why it's so much fun to mess with you."

"You're the worst!" Ethan shouted, hopping up and down in frustration.

Noah tried his best to calm him down, while Jace quietly tended to Dylan.

Once bright and lively, with a sharp tongue to match, Dylan had grown unusually quiet since leaving Silver Wall Peak to train under Aiden.

"So, Vera, how did that Jade Elixir taste?" Marcus asked with a teasing grin.

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"...Taste?" she echoed, blinking.

Everyone was dressed in comfortable sleepwear, their usual training garb replaced for the night.

"Yes, the taste. Was it something divine?"

"It was sweet, with a faint scent of cherry blossoms," she replied calmly.

"Nothing like, oh, I don't know, the flavor of heaven and earth, shaking your soul to the core?"

"No, Senior Brother Ethan, it wasn't."

It was then that a familiar voice rang out from outside the Blooming Peak Pavilion.

"What are you all doing, not asleep yet?"

It was Aiden.

His tone wasn't stern; he simply raised his voice slightly, as if to let them know he was there.

He wasn't scolding them—yet. It was more of a heads-up, a chance for them to hide anything they didn't want found before he entered.

After all, the hall was filled with teenagers, and it was wise not to be too intrusive in such a lively environment.

"Master Aiden?"

Vera tilted her head as he walked in.

With a wave of his hand, he beckoned his disciples to gather around.

The first thing he did was let out a long, weary sigh.