The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Chapter 63 Shadow of Death and the Sword of Salvation

Through his fading consciousness, Marcus could see Vera's sword.

It radiated a brilliance, almost a mirage of light.

Could this be Sword Aura?

Had she stepped onto the threshold of the Supreme Realm?

The sensation in his fingers and toes dulled as his body turned cold.

Was it because his blood was draining away? Every breath brought searing pain from the embedded blade.

"Senior Brother! Get up! Please get up!"

He could hear Ethan's voice.

He needed to help Vera, but why was Ethan holding onto him instead?

He tried to speak, but the words circled in his mind, never reaching his lips.

Then something warm fell onto his face.

Drip. Drip.

It wasn't cold like dew; it was warm—

tears.

"…Senior Brother, you can't die. Please, you can't."

It was Ethan's voice.

With great effort, Marcus lifted a trembling hand and grasped Ethan's.

Using the last remnants of his strength, he forced himself to speak.

"Take care… of Vera…"

He knew his end was near.

But at that moment, the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears.

They weren't from more assassins.

The rhythm of the steps was accompanied by the faint, rhythmic sound of a wooden moktak.

Master Nathaniel

The man who appeared was Master Nathaniel, a warrior monk from the Iron Fist Sect, known as the Serene Void Monk.

Although from a different sect, his rank was equivalent to the second-generation disciples of Suncrest Sect.

He was also a master of the Heart-Intention Style, a unique martial art that blended inner energy projection with intent.

Because of his mastery, he was granted a special privilege by the Abbot of the Iron Fist Sect—

the ability to carry a Great Heavenly Pill wherever he went within The Central Plains Province.

The Heart-Intention Style was unlike traditional martial arts.

It was neither strictly a martial art nor merely an internal energy method.

Instead, it used intent to manipulate energy and relied on borrowing the forms of other techniques.

With this style, Nathaniel had mastered the Buddha's Divine Palm and the Transcendent Wisdom Sutra, the most revered internal method in the Iron Fist Sect.

His Purpose

Nathaniel had descended from Mount of the Moon to search for his young disciple,

who had gone on a small errand to a nearby mountain and failed to return.

He worried the boy might have gotten lost or distracted.

But instead, he found a shocking scene on the mountainside.

One child lay bleeding, pierced by a blade.

Nearby, the mutilated corpse of an assassin lay sprawled.

A small girl sat sobbing, covered in blood, clutching the injured boy tightly.

"What has happened here, young benefactors? May this humble monk offer his assistance?"

Hearing his words, the two children's faces filled with hope.

Calmly, Nathaniel retrieved a small, old wooden box from his robes.

"Please, step aside for a moment."

Ethan and Vera hesitated.

They could tell he was from the Iron Fist Sect, but having just faced death, how could they trust a stranger?

Instead of words, Nathaniel chose action.

He opened the small wooden box.

A pure, fragrant aroma instantly spread on the breeze.

Even those unfamiliar with its significance could sense its importance.

It was a Great Heavenly Pill from the Iron Fist Sect,

a treasure reserved for healing the sect's most talented disciples in times of great peril.

"Monk, is that…"

Ethan's eyes widened in recognition.

Without hesitation, Nathaniel placed the pill into Marcus's mouth.

He pressed several acupoints to stop the bleeding, then swiftly drew the embedded sword.

"Please endure, brave benefactor."

"Guh… gah… hahh…"

Thankfully, no blood gushed out as the blade was removed.

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His prior acupressure had ensured that.

Assessing the situation wasn't difficult for Nathaniel.

Though the exact details were unclear, it was evident that these three children had been attacked by assassins.

One of them had thrown themselves into harm's way.

Though they had managed to fend off the assassin, it had come at great cost.

Such occurrences were common in the Martial World, but seeing three such young children on their own was unusual.

Their swords marked them as martial artists.

Their age suggested they were third-generation disciples of some sect.

Their black outer robes concealed pristine white martial uniforms beneath,

and the faint scent of cherry blossoms lingered around them.

They were undoubtedly disciples of Suncrest Sect.

But the distance from Suncrest to this place was significant, which made their presence here peculiar.

"Is senior brother alright?" Vera asked weakly.

"He will survive for now, but he will need time to recuperate. I will take him to the Iron Fist Sect for proper care," replied Nathaniel.

"Thank you… thank you so much…"

Tears streamed down Vera's face, large and heavy like droplets of chicken fat.

Seeing such care between senior and junior disciples brought a smile to Master Nathaniel's face.

"So, what brings disciples of Suncrest Sect all the way to The Central Plains Province?"

"So, you're saying that Sir Valen has taken the child to the Iron Fist Sect?"

"That's correct, Master Nathaniel."

Nathaniel carried the unconscious Marcus on his back.

His sleeves were already gone, torn to bind Marcus's wounds.

Ethan and Vera walked on either side of him.

Seeing Vera's reddened eyes, Ethan thought briefly to himself:

Would she cry like that if I were the one injured?

"It's certainly strange," Nathaniel remarked.

"What about it, Master?" asked Vera.

"I'm curious what kind of person would dare to harm a disciple of the Iron Fist Sect," he said.

Nathaniel glanced down at Vera.

Although his steps didn't falter, his gaze carried doubt and suspicion.

To kill this child, someone had even dared to involve the Iron Fist Sect.

The timing was telling—it had happened right after she embarked on her Wandering Trial, suggesting a well-informed enemy.

The decision for the Wandering Trial had been made immediately after the Peak Assembly, where the Akrest Clan had faced defeat.

Various hypotheses swirled in Nathaniel's mind.

"They used the martial arts of Bloodshadow Pavilion, correct?"

"Yes. Sir Valen… testified to it," Vera replied, barely suppressing her distaste as she uttered his name.

Meanwhile, Ethan, who wasn't known for his politeness, followed silently.

"Techniques such as the Instant Death Palm Technique, the Soul Slaughter Sword, and even the Shadow Veil Step… there's no doubt it was Bloodshadow Pavilion's martial arts."

"But there's one thing that doesn't add up," Vera interjected.

"What is it, young benefactor?"

"How was I able to defeat him?" she asked, her voice tinged with genuine confusion.

Vera mulled over the situation.

He was an assassin at the peak of the Supreme Realm.

Most martial artists fully master their sect's techniques and rarely deviate to learn others.

Yet, this assassin seemed more skilled in swordsmanship than stealth.

If he were truly a Bloodshadow Pavilion assassin, he could have ended her life with a single strike from the shadows.

There would have been no need for the elaborate ruse of drawing Valen away by attacking the Iron Fist Sect.

The moment he killed her, his mission would be complete, regardless of whether he survived.

"Indeed, that's odd," Nathaniel agreed.

A true Bloodshadow Pavilion assassin, even at the first-class level, would have easily killed three young disciples of Suncrest Sect—even if it meant perishing with them.

Assassins regarded themselves as expendable tools.

Planning such an intricate scheme and provoking a direct confrontation wasn't typical behavior.

"We should already be dead," Vera admitted.

"I've never encountered Bloodshadow Pavilion before, but I've heard stories from my father."

"Ah, your father must have played a role in the suppression of the Demonic Cult?"

"…It's not an achievement worth boasting about," she replied, lowering her gaze.

Despite her humility, Nathaniel noticed her discomfort and quickly shifted the topic.

"For your senior brother's sake, you'll need to stay at the Iron Fist Sect for at least a month. How does that sound?"

"…I'm not sure," Vera admitted softly.

The Central Plains Province, Mount of the Moon

The sacred home of the Iron Fist Sect,

one of the Five Great Mountains of China, and the spiritual root of all central martial arts.

Rushing up its slopes, Valen carried an injured the Iron Fist Sect disciple on his back and wielded the massive Flame Dragon Blade.

Even the the Iron Fist Sect disciples, who initially mistook him for an intruder, stepped aside, recognizing the urgency of his mission.

He reached the summit in no time.

The news had already preceded him, and the great masters of the Iron Fist Sect emerged to greet him.

"It's Bloodshadow Pavilion! He was struck by Bloodshadow Pavilion's martial arts!" Valen shouted.

The chilling words caused a hush to fall over the Iron Fist Sect.

Bloodshadow Pavilion—

the infamous assassin sect that had once plunged the martial world into chaos alongside the Demonic Cult.

"Everyone, calm yourselves," said Abbot Gregory, descending from Radiant Wisdom Hall with an air of authority.

Valen carefully laid the young monk on the ground and bowed respectfully.

"There's no need for formalities. Thank you for bringing him to us. the Iron Fist Sect will take care of him now," the abbot said.

"No thanks are necessary. I'm only relieved I could be of help to the Iron Fist Sect," replied Valen.

"Is there anything we can do for you, Sir Valen?" the abbot asked warmly.

After a moment of thought, Valen replied.

"Three young disciples of Suncrest Sect will be arriving here soon. They are on a Wandering Trial to the Eastern Mountain Fiery Blade clan, and I've been accompanying them. If you could allow them to rest here for a few days, I'd be grateful."

"Ah, so Sir Valen travels with disciples of Suncrest Sect? An interesting twist," the abbot remarked with a smile.

"The boy I brought is Arther, a disciple of the Iron Fist Sect, and I've done nothing more than repay the kindness his master, Nathaniel, has shown me."

The abbot nodded. "Then why stop at a few days? Let them rest here for as long as they need—be it a month or two."