Liam's Perspective
The stench of death still clung to as I returned to my temporary hideout. Killing Colt Knightwood had been necessary. Displaying his body in the town square afterward—perhaps not. But I needed to send a ssage.
The Knightwood family had fallen overnight. Their patriarch's headless corpse, hung from the clock tower with a sign detailing his cris, saw to that. Fear rippled through Unchon City like wildfire.
Perfect timing to build my foundation.
I sat cross-legged on the floor of my rented room, scrolling through The Warrior's Scroll on my phone. This martial arts forum was the fastest way to spread information in our world. My announcent was simple:
"Liam Knight seeks disciples. Those with courage to defy corrupt powers, co to Jade Peak tomorrow at noon."
I set the phone down and closed my eyes. Building a sect from scratch wouldn't be easy, but I needed allies for what was coming.
Three hours later, my phone buzzed incessantly. I grabbed it, expecting applications from potential disciples.
Instead, my blood ran cold.
"ERGENCY ALERT: Half-step Martial Marquis Dashiell Blackthorne issues formal challenge to criminal Liam Knight. Public execution scheduled during Blackthorne-Ashworth wedding ceremony in four months."
Below that, a second headline: "Dashiell Blackthorne: 'No disciple of criminal Knight will find safety in any major city.'"
My recruitnt post had been deleted. In its place—dozens of panicked ssages from potential allies backtracking, apologizing, running scared.
"Damn it!" I hurled my phone across the room. It cracked against the wall but didn't break.
Dashiell had outmaneuvered perfectly. He'd not only threatened anyone who might join but also publicly announced his intention to kill at his wedding to Isabelle.
The wedding that should never happen. The wedding I would stop at any cost. First sееn оn
I retrieved my phone, scowling at the screen. The forum had exploded with activity. Most posts sided with Dashiell, calling a criminal, a murderer, a disgrace to the martial world.
Public opinion had turned against overnight.
A new post appeared at the top, pinned by the forum administrators:
"BREAKING: Dashiell Blackthorne achieves half-step Martial Marquis realm! Exclusive interview inside."
I clicked, bracing myself.
The interview began with fawning praise for Dashiell's recent breakthrough. The reporter described him as "radiant with power" and "the youngest half-step Martial Marquis in a century."
Then ca the questions about .
"Young Master Blackthorne, rumors suggest Liam Knight poses a significant threat to you. How do you respond?"
Dashiell's smug face filled the screen as a video began playing. He laughed, the sound grating on my nerves.
"Liam Knight? A threat? Please. He's nothing more than a desperate commoner who got lucky with so stolen techniques."
The reporter nodded eagerly. "Yet he's defeated several powerful opponents. The Sterling family, Oliver Monroe..."
Dashiell waved dismissively. "Low-level garbage. Any decent martial artist could have done the sa."
"And what about your upcoming marriage to Isabelle Ashworth? Sources claim Knight has so... connection to her."
Dashiell's face darkened convincingly. "That's the most disgusting part of this whole affair. Knight has been obsessively pursuing Isabelle for years. The poor woman is terrified of him."
My knuckles whitened around the phone. Pure lies.
"After her grandfather's tragic passing—murdered by Knight, I might add—Isabelle has been inconsolable. Our marriage will provide her the protection and stability she desperately needs."
"You claiming Michael Ashworth was murdered by Knight is a serious allegation," the reporter said, feigning shock while clearly delighted by the controversy.
Dashiell nodded gravely. "Michael was a friend to all of us. He even helped that ungrateful bastard Knight when he was nothing. And how was he repaid? With a knife in the back."
I stood up, rage boiling through . Michael had died protecting . He'd given his life to save mine. And this piece of shit was using his death for propaganda.
"So the wedding serves multiple purposes?" the reporter asked.
"Indeed. It unites two great families, protects Isabelle, and will finally bring justice for Michael Ashworth when I execute his killer before all of Veridia's elite."
The reporter leaned forward eagerly. "You're confident you can defeat Knight?"
Dashiell's laugh was cold. "I achieved half-step Martial Marquis yesterday. Knight is barely at the peak of Master realm. The gap between us is like heaven and earth."
He stared directly into the cara, as if speaking to . "Knight, if you're watching this—run while you still can. Hide in so backwater village. Change your na. Forget about Isabelle Ashworth. Because if you show your face at my wedding, I will destroy you so thoroughly that not even your ashes will remain."
The interview continued, but I'd heard enough. I closed the video, breathing heavily through clenched teeth.
The comnts section below was worse. Hundreds of martial artists praising Dashiell, condemning . The narrative had been masterfully crafted—Dashiell the noble protector, the obsessive criminal.
My phone nearly shattered in my grip. Every instinct scread to post a rebuttal, to tell the truth about Michael's death, about Isabelle's captivity, about Dashiell's true nature.
But that would accomplish nothing. Words couldn't win this battle.
Only power could.
I took a deep breath, calming the rage that threatened to consu . Dashiell had played this well. By publicly challenging and threatening any potential allies, he'd isolated completely.
So be it. I'd faced worse odds before.
I opened the comnt section and typed a simple response:
"Dashiell Blackthorne, see you in four months."
The mont I posted it, notifications exploded. Martial artists from across the country responded, most mocking my confidence, others placing bets on how quickly Dashiell would kill .
I ignored them all and set my phone aside.
Four months. That was all the ti I had to bridge the gap between peak Master and half-step Martial Marquis.
Under normal circumstances, such advancent would take years, perhaps decades. But my circumstances were far from normal.
I reached into my pocket and withdrew the ancient scroll I'd taken from Zion. The divine seal technique could prove useful, if I could master it.
I also had the Nine Secrets from Jackson Harding. Only three had been unlocked so far, but each one had dramatically increased my power.
Most importantly, I had no choice. Isabelle's life depended on stopping that wedding.
A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.
I tensed, instantly alert. Nobody should know I was here.
"Who is it?" I called, gathering my qi into my palm.
"A ssenger," ca the muffled reply. "I have sothing for Liam Knight."
I approached cautiously, ready for an ambush. Through the peephole, I saw a single man in nondescript clothing, holding a small package.
I opened the door a crack, blocking it with my foot. "What's that?"
The man extended the package. "From Mariana Valerius."
My eyebrows rose. The Pavilion Master of the Celestial Apothecary Guild had found ? I took the package and scanned the man's qi channels. No signs of deception or hidden power.
"Thank you," I said, accepting the small wooden box.
The ssenger bowed slightly and departed without another word.
Back inside, I examined the box carefully before opening it. Inside lay a single pill, gleaming with golden light, alongside a note in Mariana's elegant handwriting:
"The Foundation Essence Pill. Use it wisely. Four months is not long, but it might be enough. Rember what I taught you about the Chaotic Body—embrace both light and darkness. —M.V."
I stared at the pill in awe. Foundation Essence Pills were legendary, said to accelerate cultivation breakthroughs by years. They were also incredibly rare and expensive.
This single pill represented Mariana risking her position to help .
I tucked the pill away safely. Not yet—I would need perfect conditions to maximize its effectiveness.
My phone buzzed again. Another notification from The Warrior's Scroll:
"Dashiell Blackthorne responds to Knight's challenge: 'The condemned man sets his own execution date. How considerate.'"
I turned off my phone and began packing my few belongings. Unchon City was no longer safe. Dashiell would have people searching for within hours.
As I prepared to leave, my resolve hardened into sothing cold and unbreakable. Dashiell thought he'd won this round with his twisted narrative and public posturing.
He had no idea what was coming.
In four months, I would crash his wedding. I would save Isabelle. And I would show Dashiell Blackthorne exactly why the na Liam Knight would one day make even Martial Saints tremble.
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