The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Chapter 61 The Path of Blood and Vengeance

It was a principle of Wandering Trial not to see off the departing disciples.

After all, they were not going off to accomplish something grand.

They were merely descending into the world to learn its ways and gain wisdom.

For this reason, Aiden did not bid farewell to his disciples.

He remained in his hut, taking care of Jace, Dylan, and Noah.

Even though he was hailed as the white Cherry blossom, known for his keen insight and perception...

there was no way he could have foreseen that Valen, the sworn enemy of both himself and his disciples, would join their Wandering Trial.

It was utterly impossible.

Thus, he could not step in to prevent it.

"Vera, did you eat something bad for lunch?"

Marcus's concerned voice broke through Vera's thoughts.

Her cheeks and lips had grown pale, even though they had not yet left Silent Frontier.

"…I'm fine. Thank you for your concern."

She couldn't meet Valen's gaze.

She feared he might sense her turmoil.

She knew she had to suppress these feelings, yet it was difficult.

"Is this your first journey?"

Valen directed his question at her.

Vera stiffened for a moment before steadying herself and answering.

"…It's not my first, but I've only been on one journey before this."

"To reach Eastern Mountain from Silent Frontier, we must pass through The Central Plains. Perhaps we should stop by the Iron Fist Sect on the way."

"If it's for my sake, there's no need…"

Vera shook her head firmly.

Even if her body suffered, she wanted this journey to end as quickly as possible.

The more they stopped along the way, the longer the journey would drag on.

And the longer the journey, the more she would have to see his face.

But Valen was a stubborn and oblivious man.

"You're fourteen, aren't you? You're smaller and more delicate than others your age. Even if your inner energy is strong, if your bones and muscles aren't sturdy, your body will suffer. We'll take frequent breaks. I don't want to hear complaints from Suncrest later about me harming one of their precious disciples."

He was like the massive broadsword strapped to his back.

In the right hands, it could deliver powerful justice.

In the hands of a tyrant, it was a blind guillotine.

Arguing further would only lead to more needless words.

Vera had no means to persuade a man in his forties.

And he was at the entry level of the Supreme Realm—forcing him into submission was impossible.

That left only one option.

"Yes, I'll do as you suggest."

She decided to answer all his questions with a simple "yes" and keep the conversations short.

It was the best strategy she could muster.

It was also the universal strategy of children who didn't want to listen to adults.

Contrary to Aiden's worries, the journey was remarkably uneventful.

Anyone who saw the massive broadsword on Valen's back fled without hesitation.

They did encounter a few mountain bandits and rogues, but…

fighting them would have been pointless.

The road was long, but the cool breeze made it pleasant.

The path around the mountain to the Iron Fist Sect was tranquil.

After two or three such encounters, no one dared to approach them anymore.

"Senior Brother, isn't this journey going a little too smoothly?"

"All thanks to Valen, the great hero."

Thanks to this, Ethan had grown utterly relaxed.

Surprisingly, Valen didn't seem to mind.

He had no energy to care about such trivial matters.

'…A promise I can't keep.'

Perhaps she was right.

If he needed to kill someone else to avenge his son?

He would do it without hesitation.

And then the cycle of vengeance would repeat.

There was only one way to break it: to let go of his desire for revenge.

But that was the one thing he could never choose.

Discover more stories at empire

It was utterly impossible.

"What's that?"

At that moment, Ethan pointed to something sticking out of the bushes.

Covered in mud and grime, it was filthy and battered,

but unmistakably a human foot.

"…Ethan, take Vera and step back."

Marcus drew his sword.

The elegantly forged Black Iron Sword gleamed as it emerged, exuding a quiet dignity.

Valen extended his senses to scan the surroundings.

Then he left Marcus to handle the situation.

'I don't sense any dangerous presences.'

There were no signs of a martial master nearby.

It was probably just a corpse.

Maybe someone who foolishly resisted bandits trying to rob them…

Or someone who said the wrong thing and was silenced.

But both guesses were wrong.

When Marcus approached closer, his voice trembled as he muttered:

"This… this is a monk's robe."

The figure lying there was none other than a disciple of the Iron Fist Sect.

Valen's brow furrowed deeply in an instant.

"A monk's robe? Step aside and let me see."

He closed the distance in an instant and approached the young monk.

The boy didn't exude a youthful presence, but he was clearly not yet an adult.

Perhaps in his mid to late teens.

The problem was the blood spilling from his mouth.

When his collar was loosened, there was a distinct mark of a palm strike just below the monk's sternum.

"This is bad. His internal injuries are severe. At this rate, he won't last long…"

North the Iron Fist Sect, South Celestial Sword Sect.

Even before the Blade Clan Lord unified the Martial World under the banner of the Blade Clan, these words were a universal truth.

And they still were.

For someone to dare attack a disciple of the Iron Fist Sect, they must be either:

incredibly foolish,extraordinarily powerful,or a remnant of the shattered Demonic Cult.

The last was the most likely.

Valen spread his energy across the surroundings again.

This time, it wasn't the loose, casual aura from before.

Now, it was a dense and powerful web of energy, ready for battle.

Yet still, he sensed nothing.

Lifting the young monk, Valen rose to his feet and began issuing commands to Marcus.

"I'll carry this child directly to the Iron Fist Sect. Follow me if you can, but if you fall behind, rest and catch up later. Time is critical, and I cannot slow my pace for you."

Valen was not a master of agility arts.

However, compared to the barely seventeen and fourteen-year-old third-generation disciples, he was leagues ahead.

If he matched their pace, they might not make it to the Iron Fist Sect in time.

"These injuries… this palm strike is radiating a sinister energy…"

It wasn't the Demonic energy of the Demonic Cult, but it was a feeling Valen had encountered before.

A martial sect that devoted everything to killing its opponents.

The techniques of Bloodshadow Pavilion were like this.

"…This is the Instant Death Palm Technique of Bloodshadow Pavilion. Time is of the essence. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir Valen. I'll take care of Vera and Ethan. Please go ahead."

As soon as Marcus spoke, Valen activated his agility arts and vanished into the distance.

For a martial artist at the threshold of the Supreme Realm,

his massive frame and lack of refined agility skills didn't hinder him from disappearing in an instant.

Moments later, Vera collapsed to her knees.

Neither Marcus nor Ethan understood why.

"Vera?"

"What's wrong? Hey, snap out of it!"

She hadn't lost consciousness, but her expression made it clear she was deeply shaken.

She had felt it.

That same sinister energy radiating from the Instant Death Palm Technique—

she had encountered it before.

The sticky, cold, and nauseating aura.

It was the same energy she felt when she consumed the Jade Elixir and circulated her energy after being attacked by the one who had ambushed her master, Aiden.

"…Senior Brother. Senior Ethan."

Her quiet voice called them closer.

She pulled them in so closely that their foreheads nearly touched,

her whisper soft enough to avoid detection.

"I've encountered this martial art of Bloodshadow Pavilion before."

Her words froze both Marcus and Ethan in place.

They had heard of Bloodshadow Pavilion.

Though they hadn't faced it directly, the name of the Assassins' Sect was legendary.

It had vanished after the collapse of the Demonic Cult,

but rumors still persisted of highly skilled martial artists dying mysteriously.

Every time, people whispered that it was the work of Bloodshadow Pavilion assassins.

"…At the First Gathering," Vera added.

At that moment, someone emerged from the bushes opposite where the monk had fallen.

A man in black martial robes and a hood.

In his hand was a dull, unpolished short sword treated with glue and ash to eliminate its shine.

It was Kieran, Deputy Leader of Midnight Celestial Pavilion, the shadow unit of the Akrest Clan.

"We meet again, little girl."

His voice was low and chilling.

At once, Vera, Marcus, and Ethan drew their swords.

But Kieran merely scoffed.

"I know your capabilities. The girl in the middle is at the peak of the third rank, the other two barely at the end of the first rank.

I, however, am a martial artist at the threshold of the Supreme Realm. Do you truly think you can leave here alive?"

As he infused his blade with inner energy, a faint, flickering sword aura began to form.

Though it wasn't perfectly refined,

it was enough to confirm his mastery at the entry of the Supreme Realm.

"If you wish to kill me, then do so," Vera said firmly, standing tall.

"But why did you harm an innocent the Iron Fist Sect disciple?"

"Because I needed to draw Valen away from you."

Vera's pupils trembled for a moment.

She hadn't anticipated such cunning.

But she quickly calmed herself.

Straightening her posture, she channeled her energy with unshakable resolve.

As it coursed through her meridians, the essence of the Black dragon's Power spread through her body.

"…I am not afraid of you."

"I don't care. Die."

In an instant, Kieran's figure blurred as he moved to strike.