## Liam's Perspective
Darkness. Complete and absolute.
I floated in it, neither alive nor dead. Just... existing. Ti had no aning here. Pain flickered at the edges of my consciousness, but couldn't quite reach .
Occasionally, voices penetrated the void.
"His ridians are completely shattered in three places..."
"...never seen soone survive channeling that much power with a body at his level..."
"...keep him sedated. The pain would kill him if he woke now..."
I tried to speak, to move, to do anything. Isabelle. I needed to find her. But my body refused to respond.
Then, nothing again.
---
Three days after the disastrous wedding, I still hadn't regained consciousness. My body lay on a stone bed in the innermost chamber of the Celestial Apothecary Guild, pale as death. Glowing formations pulsed beneath , pouring healing energies into my broken ridians.
Outside my healing chamber, Veridia City buzzed with talk of my battle with Dashiell Blackthorne. The story grew with each retelling.
In the bustling Crescent Market, a group of young martial artists gathered around a tea stand, voices animated.
"I heard he killed three Blackthorne elders before Dashiell even showed up!"
"No, but he did beat Dashiell with just two moves! My cousin's friend was there—said it was like watching a dragon fight a worm."
"They say he's from the forbidden continent beyond the Eastern Sea."
"Nonsense! He's the illegitimate son of a Martial Saint, hiding his identity!"
The tea vendor, an old man with knowing eyes, shook his head. "You're all wrong. He was just an ordinary man who worked hard. That's why the commoners love him—he showed those arrogant families that talent isn't just for the privileged."
Across the city, similar conversations unfolded. To ordinary martial artists without backing from major families, I had beco sothing of a folk hero overnight. To the established powers, I was a dangerous precedent that needed to be erased.
---
In the opulent main hall of the Ashworth family estate, Corbin Ashworth sat behind a massive mahogany desk, fingers steepled under his chin. Three n stood before him: Dominic Ashworth, his son; Vincent Gray, the family's head of security; and a slender, expressionless man in gray robes.
"The situation is intolerable," Corbin said, his voice deadly quiet. "This Knight upstart has made us look weak. Worse, he's inspired the rabble. My sources tell mbership applications at the smaller martial academies have doubled since the duel."
Dominic shifted uncomfortably. "Father, what about Isabelle? We should—"
"Silence!" Corbin slamd his palm on the desk. "Isabelle's situation with the Guild is... complicated. Focus on the task at hand."
He turned to the gray-robed man. "Josiah Hale. The Ascendant Saints Order has served the Ashworth family for generations. I trust you understand what needs to be done."
Josiah Hale bowed slightly. "The target is being guarded by a Martial Marquis and potentially even Jackson Harding himself."
"Are you saying you can't handle it?" Corbin's eyes narrowed.
"I'm saying the price just doubled," Josiah replied without emotion. "And I'll need special preparations."
Corbin grimaced but nodded. "Do what you must. But understand this—Knight must die before he recovers. If he reaches his full potential..."
He left the sentence unfinished, but everyone understood. I was no longer rely an annoyance. I was an existential threat to their power structure.
"Consider it done." Josiah bowed again and glided from the room without a sound. Chaptersource:MyVirtualLibraryEmpire(*).
Vincent cleared his throat. "Sir, about the Martial Guild's interest in Miss Isabelle..."
"Not now," Corbin cut him off sharply. "That matter is beyond even my control. We focus on what we can change."
---
At the Blackthorne estate, the atmosphere was explosive. Servants scurried through the halls with their heads down, desperate to avoid notice. No one wanted to be in the path of Roderick Blackthorne's rage.
In the family's private courtyard, Roderick paced like a caged beast, his face mottled with fury. Nearby, Dashiell sat slumped in a chair, his handso face bruised and bandaged, eyes hollow with humiliation.
"Three hundred years!" Roderick roared. "Three hundred years of Blackthorne supremacy in martial affairs, and you—YOU—are defeated by so naless nobody!"
Dashiell flinched but said nothing.
"Do you have ANY IDEA what this ans?" Roderick continued. "Our rivals are already moving against our interests! The Aurora Trading Company canceled our contract this morning. The Martial Guild is questioning our family's seat on the junior council!"
He grabbed a priceless vase from a nearby table and hurled it against the wall, where it shattered.
"Father, I—" Dashiell began.
The courtyard doors burst open. A tall, imposing figure strode in, flanked by two stern-faced elders. His silver hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, his beard ticulously trimd. Though he appeared to be in his sixties, he moved with the fluid grace of a much younger man.
Roderick's face paled. "Father."
Corvus Blackthorne, the true patriarch of the Blackthorne family, stopped before his son and grandson. Without warning, he slapped Roderick across the face with such force that the younger man staggered backward.
"You incompetent fool," Corvus said, his voice terrifyingly soft. "I leave for three months of seclusion, and you manage to destroy centuries of carefully cultivated reputation."
Roderick touched his cheek, where an angry red mark was forming. "Father, we can fix this. The Knight boy is vulnerable now. We'll eliminate him and—"
"Silence." Corvus didn't raise his voice, but Roderick instantly fell quiet. "Your judgnt has proven worthless."
Corvus turned his cold gaze to Dashiell, who seed to shrink before his grandfather's scrutiny.
"And you. Our family's pride. Our strongest young talent." Each word dripped with disgust. "Defeated in front of the entire city by a man who wasn't even a registered martial artist a few months ago."
"Grandfather, he cheated sohow," Dashiell protested weakly. "No one could advance that quickly naturally."
"EXCUSES!" Corvus finally raised his voice, and everyone in the courtyard flinched. "Blackthornes do not make excuses. We dominate. We conquer. We eliminate threats."
He turned back to Roderick. "The Ashworth alliance was to be the cornerstone of our expansion into the southern territories. Now they're wavering, using their daughter's mysterious 'health condition' as an excuse to delay the marriage."
"The girl is with the Martial Guild now," one of the elders supplied. "So special program, apparently."
Corvus's eyes narrowed. "Interesting. So the rumors about her bloodline might be true."
A new voice joined the conversation. "I can handle this situation, Father."
A lean, hard-faced man stepped out from behind Corvus. Unlike Roderick's flashy attire, he wore simple, functional clothes. A thin scar ran from his left eye to his jaw.
"Bryce," Roderick acknowledged his brother coldly.
Bryce Blackthorne, Corvus's second son, smiled thinly. "Brother. Nephew. What a ss you've created."
"I don't need your help," Roderick spat.
"Clearly, you do," Bryce replied. "I've spent the last five years building our influence in the Western Territories. I didn't expect to co ho to find our family a laughingstock."
Corvus nodded. "Bryce will take charge of this situation."
"Father!" Roderick protested. "I'm the heir! This is my responsibility!"
Corvus stared at his eldest son for a long, uncomfortable mont. "Perhaps it's ti to reconsider the line of succession."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Roderick's face drained of color.
"Dad, give a few days," he pleaded, desperation evident in his voice. "I... I will definitely resolve both issues! I assure you the Ashworth family will not cancel the engagent, and Liam Knight... will certainly die!"
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