I strode back into Rishi Sutton's office, a leather pouch clutched tightly in my hand. Twenty minutes had passed since our first eting, and my patience was wearing thin. Michael Ashworth's body wouldn't last much longer without proper treatnt.
"Mr. Sutton, I apologize for the intrusion, but ti is critical," I said, my voice tense with urgency. "I need those Grandmasters imdiately."
Sutton looked up from his papers, his expression carefully neutral. "Mr. Knight, these arrangents take ti. Grandmasters aren't street perforrs you can summon on a whim."
I placed the leather pouch on his desk and opened it. Inside lay a translucent pill that emitted a soft golden glow, alongside a withered herb with faint blue veins running through its stem.
"This is a Vitality Enhancing Pill," I explained. "It can extend a cultivator's lifespan by fifteen years. And this herb is over five hundred years old, virtually extinct in the wild."
Sutton's eyes widened montarily before he controlled his expression. His fingers twitched, clearly tempted by the treasure before him.
"Impressive," he murmured, picking up the pill to examine it. "Very impressive indeed."
"They're yours if you help secure six Grandmasters within the hour."
Sutton carefully returned the pill to the pouch, his movents deliberate. "Six? Earlier you ntioned needing three."
"The situation has beco more complicated," I replied. "Will you help ?"
He nodded slowly. "Let make so calls. Please, wait here."
I watched as he stepped to the corner of his office, speaking in hushed tones into his phone. Sothing didn't feel right. His body language was too rigid, his glances toward too frequent.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
"Mr. Sutton," I called out, my anxiety mounting. "Michael Ashworth's condition is deteriorating with every minute."
He held up a hand, signaling for patience. "These matters take ti, Mr. Knight. My associates are mobilizing."
Another five minutes crawled by. I paced the office, checking my watch repeatedly. Every mont wasted diminished our chances of successfully reviving Michael.
"Perhaps I should seek help elsewhere," I finally said, reaching for the pouch.
Sutton quickly intercepted my hand. "No need for that. My colleagues are on their way. In fact..." He gestured to his phone. "I just received confirmation. They'll be here montarily."
I reluctantly withdrew my hand, my instincts screaming that sothing was wrong. But what choice did I have? Finding six Grandmasters elsewhere would take even longer.
"How much longer?" I demanded.
"Any minute now," Sutton assured , returning to his desk. He slid the pouch toward himself with subtle possessiveness. "These are remarkable items. Where did you acquire such treasures?"
I ignored his question. "The Grandmasters will need to follow precise instructions. The formation is complex."
"Of course, of course," he nodded, eyes still fixed on the pouch. "They're highly skilled practitioners. They'll follow your lead."
The minutes continued to tick by. My anxiety grew with each passing second. I couldn't afford to wait much longer.
Just as I stood to leave, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.
"Ah, that would be them now," Sutton said, his tone suddenly different—almost smug.
The door swung open. Six n entered, led by a tall, broad-shouldered figure with a hard, weathered face. I recognized him imdiately: Colt Knightwood, infamous for his ruthless efficiency and connections to several powerful families.
Relief washed over . "Thank you for coming. Michael Ashworth's life depends on your assistance."
Colt's expression remained stony. The five n behind him spread out, subtly blocking all exits.
"Michael Ashworth?" Colt said coldly. "I'm not here to save anyone, Knight."
My blood ran cold. I turned to Sutton, who was now smiling openly, no longer bothering to hide his deceit.
"You set up," I said, the realization hitting like a physical blow.
Sutton chuckled. "I did wonder how long it would take you to figure it out. I called Mr. Knightwood the mont I learned you were coming to see ."
"Why?" I demanded, my hands clenching into fists.
"Business, Mr. Knight. Just business." Sutton pocketed my pouch with smug satisfaction. "Thank you for the gifts, by the way. Quite generous of you."
I faced Colt Knightwood. "What do you want from ?"
Colt's gaze was pitiless. "Soone very powerful wants you dead, Knight. Nothing personal—just carrying out orders." Note: Check * for any corrections.
"Who?" I demanded. "Who sent you?"
"Does it matter?" Colt replied. "You won't be alive long enough to seek revenge."
My mind raced. I was trapped in a room with six Grandmasters, all clearly intent on killing . The odds were impossibly stacked against .
"Wait," I said desperately. "I can offer you sothing far more valuable than whatever you're being paid."
Colt raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "I'm listening."
"A Divine Rank Pill," I said, watching their expressions carefully. "I can procure one for you if you let walk out of here."
A flash of naked greed crossed Colt's face. Divine Rank Pills were legendary, capable of helping cultivators break through seemingly insurmountable bottlenecks.
For a mont, I thought I'd succeeded. Colt seed to be considering my offer, his eyes calculating.
Then his expression hardened once more. "Tempting. Truly tempting. But the party who wants you eliminated... crossing them would be suicide, even for my family."
My last hope crumbled. Whoever had ordered my death wielded trendous influence.
"So that's it?" I asked, tension building in my muscles as I prepared for what would inevitably co next.
Colt nodded grimly. "I'm afraid so. The other party's orders were clear—you die today."
"And Michael Ashworth?" I asked, stalling for ti, desperately searching for any escape route.
"Not my concern," Colt replied coldly. "So...you might as well just die here!"
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