The Cunning Treasure Hunter

It was a distant yet mesmerizing sight.

Aria Everstone sat frozen in her seat, her eyes fixed on the spectacle before her.

"The winner is... the disciple of white Cherry blossom Aiden, Vera! Vera!"

The audience, overwhelmed by the breathtaking display, was momentarily stunned into silence. But it wasn't long before someone's cheer ignited a chain reaction, and the entire crowd erupted into raucous applause.

"Wow!!! Incredible!"

"With this, the battle of the Younger Generation is unpredictable!"

"That's right! Now I'm looking forward to the Skyward Assembly in three years!"

Everyone rose to their feet, offering resounding applause. Even Aiden, her master, joined in, clapping with a serene smile. Aria also rose slowly, her gaze lingering on Aiden as she politely applauded.

"...Alright, everyone, settle down for a moment," a voice called out.

After letting the cheers subside, Gideon, the sect leader of Suncrest, finally rose from his seat and spoke. His presence immediately quieted the audience, drawing their collective attention.

"Disciple of the second-generation master Aiden Vera. Come forward."

His voice was deep and solemn, carrying the weight of authority. As a seasoned master in his sixties, Gideon was not one to reveal his emotions easily. Decades of leadership and martial prowess had honed his political acumen to perfection. He knew precisely how to handle this moment.

As Vera approached, she stopped just before the pavilion and looked up at him.

'...Those eyes,' Gideon thought to himself.

Her eyes were profoundly dark, deep to the point of discomfort. They lacked light, void of any visible emotion—like the bottomless depths of an abyss.

'During her duel with Dylan, her eyes carried a spark. But now...'

Why was that spark absent? Did it mean she held no interest in him?

Gideon revisited his past interactions with Vera. He had done nothing to warrant disdain. If anything, it could only mean one thing: Aiden must have whispered something into her ear.

"Disciple of Suncrest, Vera, answering your call," she said, her voice steady.

"You are the winner of this year's Peak Assembly. As promised, the Jade Elixir is yours."

At his gesture, Magnus stepped forward, pulling a small box from his robes. He handed it to Gideon, who then descended from the pavilion himself.

Gideon's smile was warm, his gaze seemingly kind. But beneath that surface, what kind of beast lay hidden?

Vera lowered her eyes.

"Take it."

"Thank you. I humbly accept."

She felt the weight of the box in her hands. Within it lay the Jade Elixir, a precious pill, and a sword crafted from Black Steel.

"These two are now yours. No one in Suncrest will question your right to them," Gideon declared.

Vera nodded and carefully placed the Jade Elixir in her robes. She tied the Black Steel Sword beneath her Falling Blossom Sword at her waist.

Gideon observed her silently. She was so much like a Cherry blossom herself. Yet, her eyes still refused to meet his.

"One last thing," Gideon said, his voice low.

He inhaled deeply, infusing his words with inner energy. When he spoke again, his voice resonated across the peaks of Suncrest Mountain.

"We have a guest from the Akrest Clan! Here to exchange insights and cross blades with the champion of the Peak Assembly, in the spirit of unity and enlightenment!"

The crowd buzzed with excitement. It wasn't surprise—it was anticipation.

The Akrest Clan had long maintained connections with the Nine Great Sects and the Five Noble Clans, sending their disciples to spar and learn from one another. But their true intent had always been twofold:

First, to broaden the horizons of their younger disciples by exposing them to diverse techniques.

Second, to instill an undeniable gap in their opponents—a stark reminder to never dream of challenging the Akrest Clan, whose strength was as distant as the heavens.

And it worked.

Theron, the young master of the Akrest Clan, was already a martial artist of extraordinary talent. In his teenage years, no peer could match him. Even among the Younger Generation, those in their twenties, few could stand against him.

His mastery of the King's Sword Technique, a technique that crushed all opposition with overwhelming dominance, left little room for argument.

"You all know him, but let me formally introduce him to you," Gideon announced.

At that moment, Theron descended from the pavilion, standing beside the sect leader. He bowed to the crowd in all directions, his movements refined and graceful.

"I am Theron, young master of the Akrest Clan."

"I hear the world calls you the Heavenly Sword?" Gideon asked.

"It is a title far too grand for someone like me," Theron replied, his voice humble.

Gone was the playful demeanor he had displayed among peers like Marcus or Vera. Standing here was not a youth but the heir of the Akrest Clan, a swordsman bound by the legacy of the King's Sword Technique.

Theron turned his gaze toward Vera. She, however, kept her eyes lowered, refusing to meet his.

"Greet each other. Your duel will take place tomorrow," Gideon instructed.

At his words, Vera finally raised her head.

Theron's sharp eyes caught the swirling chaos in her dark pupils—something alive, moving restlessly within.

Whatever it was, it was not ordinary.

It was something both terrifying and majestic, ominous yet awe-inspiring.

'…A dragon?'

What Theron saw in Vera's eyes was not human. It reminded him of a distant memory, from the time he followed his grandfather, Ebon, to the imperial palace.

The corridors of the palace, fitting for a figure as grand as the emperor, were adorned with murals of a black dragon—its eyes were pitch-black, void of light, like endless abysses.

The murals stretched endlessly across the corridors, and at their culmination was an image of the dragon biting into a star. Amidst the burning ruins of the palace, its radiant gaze pierced through the ashes, where new sprouts began to grow.

Theron, entranced by the memory and the abyss in Vera's eyes, was startled back to the present by her voice.

"Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Vera."

"…I am Theron, young master of the Akrest Clan."

The title of young master carried a weight that Theron could not set aside, especially not before a third-generation disciple. But Vera showed no discontent, bowing first before rising gracefully.

"Well, that's enough. Everyone, dismissed."

"...Damn it," Theron muttered under his breath.

His father, Ebon, was enjoying a banquet with the sect leader. A luxurious roasted duck, its skin perfectly crisp, was being paired with the rare and extravagant Golden Southern Spring Wine. The elder Akrest indulged without a care in the world, utterly unaware of the storm brewing in his son's heart.

Not all martial artists possess the ability to accurately gauge an opponent's level. Regardless of their own prowess, this ability, known as discernment, is independent of skill. Just as wandering martial scholars often had keener eyes than some practitioners, titles like the One Sovereign, Three Lords, and Seven Warlords were solidified by the chatter of such scholars.

Ebon, unfortunately, lacked such discernment.

Thus, he continued to boast between bites and sips, declaring confidently that Theron could not lose. After all, his son had been acknowledged by the Sword Sovereign, born with the Heavenly Martial Physique, and trained in the King's Sword Technique.

'This is bad… really bad,' Theron thought.

The possibility of losing had never crossed his mind before.

In martial arts, where intention goes, skill follows. Those who cannot imagine victory will never achieve it. And now, Theron found himself unable to picture defeating Vera. Even if he tried, the stark difference in skill would likely result in his utter defeat.

He had no answer for escaping the profound mystery of her blade or finding a way to counter her overwhelming presence.

Behind his quarters, Theron quietly drew his sword. It was a treasured weapon, gifted to him through his grandfather's connections with the imperial family. Though primarily made of Black Steel, it also contained a small amount of the rare Meteorite Iron, giving it a subtle silvery sheen.

"At least this sword won't break," he murmured.

Even if Vera unleashed the full might of her Sword Energy, his blade, infused with Meteorite Iron, would hold firm. After that, it would come down to pure swordsmanship—a duel between humans.

It would be the King's Sword Technique against the Nine Heavens Cherry Blossom Sword Technique.

The clash between the Akrest Clan and the Suncrest Sect.

The battle between Theron and Vera.

Theron had carefully observed Vera's style during her duel with Jace. Her sword paths were noble and graceful, flowing like water. Every movement was precise, with no wasted motion, yet they carried an elegance akin to a dancer's performance.

"Difficult… but not impossible," he whispered.

Still, surrender was not an option.

The King's Sword Technique was a divine technique, merging dominance with precision to create an unparalleled sword art. If the Boundless Sky Sword Technique symbolized the heavens, then the King's Sword Technique represented the sovereign of those heavens.

Since ancient times, rulers have always stood atop the highest peaks. To reign meant to be closest to the sky, to witness the movements of the stars and the sun before anyone else, and to command the heavens.

That was the divine right of kings.

Theron raised his blade, moving it in a slow, deliberate arc. The air around him trembled as the first form of the Boundless Sky Sword Technique took shape. Even this initial movement was enough to assert dominance over the surroundings.

As he swung his sword upward, a heavy pressure radiated outward, suffocating everything in its vicinity.

No one could escape the heavens.

No one could hide secrets from the heavens.

This was the symbol of an absolute monarch.

Like the dragons of old, who soared between the skies and clouds with jewels in their mouths, Theron embodied that sovereignty.

"…Let's see how this plays out," he muttered.

For the first time in a long while, Theron fully immersed himself in the forms of the Boundless Sky Sword Technique and the King's Sword Technique, sharpening his senses and steeling his resolve for the battle ahead.