The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Atop Suncrest Mountain, there it stood—the place where the "True Plaque" hung. The structure at the base of the mountain was merely an entrance. Magnus waited there for Aria and Caleb to arrive.

"Caleb, huh…"

Renowned as the Sword That Splits Skulls, his precision was unmatched. In a single strike, he could cleave through a person's crown and split their philtrum. Such skill required immense speed, strength, and accuracy—a feat achievable only by a true master.

Moreover, he was an elite warrior, one of those who had consumed rare elixirs and ascended to supreme heights under the tutelage of this prestigious sect. How many such elites had emerged from this righteous faction? At least two hundred, if not more. But to claim that such prowess was achieved single-handedly? That would be absurd.

Traditional sect martial arts thrived on inherited knowledge. Masters taught disciples, senior brothers mentored juniors, and wisdom from the elders often led to enlightenment. But solitary martial arts? They lacked these advantages. Even if one did not follow the teachings of Taoism, achieving supreme mastery on one's own was a monumental accomplishment.

The ferocity and practicality of such skills were unmatched. Even his nickname, "the Sword That Splits Skulls," was a poetic way to describe his lethal reputation.

'I mustn't exude any killing intent. Nor should I raise any suspicion,' Magnus thought, steadying his heart. This was a time for a calm and focused mind.

Footsteps echoed from the distance. Aria and Caleb had arrived.

"Was your ascent uncomfortable?" Magnus asked.

Unlikely. No matter how weak the martial arts of the Everstone Clan might be, they wouldn't lack knowledge of light-foot techniques. Even if Aria hadn't learned a single martial art, Caleb would have carried her rather than let her walk.

"Thank you for your consideration. It wasn't unpleasant," Aria replied.

"Indeed, Suncrest is as rugged as it is majestic. The name 'Sword Peak' suits it well," Caleb added.

"Haha, to hear such words from you, the great warrior Caleb, is an honor."

Caleb was a seasoned warrior in his fifties, bearing a title widely recognized in the martial world. Even though Magnus was the next Head of Suncrest and a member of the One Sovereign, Three Lords, and Seven Warlords, addressing Caleb as a great warrior felt appropriate.

"great warrior? I'm nothing more than a middle-aged man carrying a sword, living a quiet life now."

His modest words belied his demeanor. His tightly closed lips and sharp eyes sent an unspoken message: stop drawing attention to me. He didn't want the spotlight shifted away from his master and the one he escorted, the head of Internal Affairs, Aria.

"The head of Internal Affairs, we've prepared a tent right beside the pavilion for you, as a distinguished guest of the Everstone Clan."

"Thank you. I'm eager to observe the promising talents who will shape Suncrest's future."

"This way, please."

Something peculiar caught Magnus's eye. Aria carried two swords. One was her usual short sword, known to all, always by her side. The other, however, was a longer blade—a sleek and polished weapon with a black, glossy sheath, its hilt finished with oiled black wood. The lack of ornamentation spoke to its practical design.

'…An unfamiliar longsword,' he mused.

Before he could ponder further, Caleb stepped between them, blocking Magnus's view of Aria.

"Is that the tent over there?" Caleb asked.

"Ah, yes, that's correct," Magnus replied, hastily adjusting his tone. Despite being of similar age, Caleb's reputation as a solitary martial artist warranted utmost respect.

Without hesitation, Caleb escorted Aria to the tent. He glanced back briefly, signaling with his eyes for Magnus to mind his manners—especially to avoid scrutinizing the lady.

"...Tch."

Magnus felt the sting of being treated as a vulgar man, but he couldn't argue. His gaze had lingered too long, and any objection would only worsen the misunderstanding. If Aria herself had noticed, it might have turned into a troublesome ordeal.

As the two entered the tent, Magnus turned away. This was sufficient. It was time to report back to the sect master.

The time had come.

Of course, Vera had not fully recovered her inner energy. Yet, contrary to popular belief, she hadn't completely exhausted it either. Half a energy, thirty years of accumulated inner energy—a vast reservoir. Even if one began cultivating inner energy at ten years old, it would take until the age of forty to accumulate this much power.

At the age of forty, possessing such inner strength was a rare feat—a power accumulated through decades of cultivation.

A mere technique couldn't deplete such energy. It was impossible.

"You promised, Vera," said Jace, his voice calm yet resolute.

"I've already shown them something grand and brilliant. Now, I'll show them something precise and swift," replied Vera with a confident smile.

"Good. Make sure you keep that promise," Jace said, even though he knew Vera wasn't one to break her word. His anxiety stemmed from his own nerves, not doubt in her.

Both Dylan and Jace were disciples of Aiden. The fact that Ebon remained silent and neither Magnus, the senior master, nor the sect leader had voiced any opposition suggested one thing: they had truly accepted the outcome of the competition.

"And now! The finals of the Peak Assembly!" the announcer's voice boomed with energy.

The crowd rose from their seats, cheering and clapping.

Jace and Vera walked steadily toward the arena. Facing each other, they placed their hands on the hilts of their swords.

"Jace! The top contender, who has torn through every opponent, including the renowned senior brother Marcus, with unstoppable momentum!"

Though Jace assumed no one would cheer for him after seeing Vera's incredible abilities, the audience surprised him. Many voices and applause rose in support. After all, victory wasn't the only thing that mattered to the crowd. Not everyone could bet on the winner; even the runner-up was proof of Suncrest's future potential.

"And now!"

All eyes shifted to Vera. Despite her petite and fragile-looking frame, she carried herself with poise, her shoulders and back perfectly straight, as though unburdened by the countless gazes.

"The one who gifted us the delicate yet bittersweet fragrance of the Black Cherry Blossom! Vera, the Black Cherry Blossom!"

The name Black Cherry Blossom wasn't an official title, but it was inevitable that the young Vera would come to be known by this moniker. No one in Suncrest had ever seen Cherry blossoms so deeply red they bordered on black.

"Before they draw their swords!" the announcer's voice stopped the rising cheers, drawing everyone's attention.

The crowd's gaze followed the announcer's hand as it pointed toward the tent of the Everstone Clan.

"The head of Internal Affairs from the Everstone Clan has announced a prize for the winner!"

The Everstone Clan was the most renowned clan of strategists. Their expertise wasn't limited to warfare—it extended to commerce as well. The Heavenly Trading Company, operated by the Everstone Clan, was one of the most influential merchant guilds in the martial world.

"The prize is none other than... a sword forged from pure black steel!"

The head of Internal Affairs, Aria, stepped forward, unfastened the sword from her waist, and raised it for all to see.

With a soft hiss, the blade slid from its scabbard, its matte black surface absorbing the light around it. The sheer craftsmanship of the blade made the crowd swallow their greed, their eyes glinting with desire.

"Consider this a small token of apology for missing the last Peak Assembly without prior notice," Aria said with a gentle bow to the assembled audience. Then, she ascended the pavilion and handed the sword to Gideon with both hands.

"You've gone above and beyond. Thank you," Gideon said.

"It's nothing. We are grateful you've accepted our gesture," Aria replied.

"Truly, thank you," Gideon said with a hearty laugh, his face alight with a friendly smile. Yet beneath the surface, he felt a sting of resentment.

No matter who won, the sword would now have to be given away. How could he not feel bitter? On one side was a troublesome girl; on the other, the one who had colluded with his master and fled in disgrace. For two years, he had endured countless frustrations, including monthly losses of valuable resources.

Still, Gideon hid his feelings. Letting such emotions show in front of the crowd was not an option. The black steel sword was a rare treasure, but the sect's vaults were filled with such weapons. Most importantly, the secret weapon sealed beneath Southern Peak—a legendary swordsman confined for fifty years—was far more critical. If Gideon could awaken that power, the tides of fortune would turn in their favor.

Taking a deep breath, Gideon calmed himself. His brief lapse in composure went unnoticed, even by Aria, who was right in front of him.

"As you've heard, the Black Steel Sword will be awarded to the winner. Both of you, give it your all," Gideon declared, his voice infused with inner strength.

The crowd's attention returned to the announcer.

"Now then, let the duel begin!"

At the signal, Vera and Jace drew their swords. Without hesitation, they launched themselves toward each other, their blades gleaming as they clashed in midair.