The morning sun cast long shadows across Veridia City's skyline as our car wound through its bustling streets. I watched the towering buildings slide by, each one a testant to the power concentrated in this tropolis. This city had once intimidated . Now I viewed it differently—as a battlefield where I would claim what was rightfully mine.
"We're almost there," I said, glancing at Clara who sat beside , fidgeting with her backpack.
She nodded, her small fingers tracing invisible patterns on the fabric. "I've kept it wrapped up just like you showed ."
"Good." I lowered my voice, though only the Man with the Mustache was in the car with us. "Rember what we discussed about the mask. No one can know about it."
"I know," she whispered back. "It's dangerous."
The Man with the Mustache cleared his throat dramatically. "Speaking of danger, have you considered what you'll do about Broderick? Your duel is in just four days."
"I'm aware of the tiline," I replied calmly.
He twirled his facial hair nervously. "It's just that, well, he's not exactly your average opponent. The whole city saw him fight Jackson Harding to a standstill."
"Public perception isn't always reality," I reminded him. "Battles like that are often more show than substance."
The Man with the Mustache raised an eyebrow. "Even so, he's strong. Perhaps the strongest in your generation."
I smiled thinly. "Then I'll just have to be stronger."
---
Across the city, in a private training chamber within the Veridia City Martial Guild, Broderick stood shirtless, his muscular body glistening with sweat. Around him lay the shattered remains of several training dummies—each one designed to withstand attacks from Martial Masters.
"Again," Ms. Hayward commanded from the edge of the room. Her severe face showed no trace of satisfaction despite his obvious prowess.
Broderick nodded, centering himself. His breath beca asured, controlled. Energy began to swirl around his body—first a gentle current, then a raging torrent. With a sudden movent, he struck forward, his fist connecting with the last remaining dummy.
The impact was devastating. Not only did the dummy disintegrate, but the reinforced wall behind it cracked from floor to ceiling.
Ms. Hayward finally allowed herself a small smile. "Better. Your control is improving."
"Is it enough?" Broderick asked, wiping his brow. "For this Liam Knight you're so concerned about?"
Her smile vanished instantly. "Don't underestimate him. He's survived situations that should have killed him several tis over."
"So have I," Broderick replied confidently.
"There's sothing different about him," she insisted. "Sothing... unpredictable. He shouldn't possess the techniques he does. His advancent shouldn't be possible at his age."
Broderick scoffed. "You worry too much, Master Hayward. I've defeated opponents twice my age and experience. What threat could a forr live-in son-in-law possibly pose?"
Ms. Hayward's eyes narrowed dangerously. "That attitude is precisely what concerns . Underestimating Liam Knight has been the downfall of many who thought themselves untouchable."
She turned, walking toward the door. "I have matters to attend to. Continue your training."
Once alone in the corridor, Ms. Hayward pulled out her communication device. She hesitated only briefly before making the call.
"Bert rcer," she said when the line connected. "I have a job for you."
---
In a dimly lit corner of a Veridia City teahouse, Bert rcer sat across from Ms. Hayward. His unremarkable face and plain clothing made him nearly invisible in the crowded establishnt—exactly as he preferred.
"The target is Liam Knight," Ms. Hayward explained, sliding a photo across the table. "He's returning to Veridia City today."
rcer studied the image briefly before nodding. "The terms?"
"Eliminate him before the duel. Make it look like an accident or a robbery gone wrong. Nothing that can be traced back to the Guild."
rcer's expression remained unchanged. "My usual fee, plus twenty percent for the rush. Half now, half upon completion."
Ms. Hayward slid an envelope across the table. "Consider this a down paynt. There will be a bonus if it's done cleanly."
rcer pocketed the envelope without counting its contents. "Any specific details about the target I should know? Abilities, protections?"
"He's more capable than he appears," Ms. Hayward admitted. "He possesses unusual techniques and likely carries defensive artifacts."
"Everyone dies the sa when taken by surprise," rcer replied flatly.
Ms. Hayward leaned forward suddenly. "Wait. I've reconsidered. Don't kill him imdiately."
rcer's eyebrow raised fractionally—the most emotion he'd shown during their entire eting.
"Capture him first," she continued. "I want to assess his true capabilities before deciding his fate. The Guild's Scripture Pavilion has information on him that doesn't add up. I need to know what we're truly dealing with."
"Capture is more complicated than elimination," rcer noted. "The fee increases."
"Double the original amount," Ms. Hayward agreed without hesitation. "But I want him alive and conscious enough to answer questions."
rcer nodded once. "It will be done."
---
Our car pulled up to the hotel where we'd be staying in Veridia City. As Clara and the Man with the Mustache gathered their belongings, I stepped out first, scanning our surroundings with both my eyes and my divine sense.
"Feels good to be back in civilization," the Man with the Mustache declared, stretching dramatically. "No more sleeping in caves or abandoned temples."
"Don't get too comfortable," I warned. "We're not here on vacation."
Clara hopped out last, her backpack clutched tightly against her chest. I placed a protective hand on her shoulder as we walked toward the entrance.
"So what's the plan?" the Man with the Mustache asked once we were safely inside our suite. "Please tell it involves at least one night of decent sleep before we start antagonizing powerful people again."
I smiled despite myself. "We have four days before the duel. I need to make the most of that ti."
"Researching at the Scripture Pavilion?" he guessed.
I nodded. "The Veridia City Martial Guild has the most comprehensive collection of texts on cultivation and Mystic Realms in this part of the world. If there's information about ownerless realms or techniques to navigate them, it will be there."
"And how exactly do you plan to access these presumably restricted texts?" he asked, twirling his mustache nervously.
"I have my thods," I replied enigmatically.
The Man with the Mustache groaned. "Which ans you're going to do sothing incredibly dangerous that will probably get us all killed."
Clara giggled from where she sat cross-legged on the sofa. I shot her an amused look before turning back to my anxious companion.
"Speaking of Mystic Realms," I continued, "what more can you tell about ownerless realms? You ntioned them during our journey."
He brightened imdiately—scholarly knowledge was his comfort zone. "Ah! Yes, fascinating phenona. Most Mystic Realms are created by powerful cultivators as personal domains or treasure grounds. But ownerless realms are different—they form naturally at locations where energy converges."
"And they're truly without masters?" I pressed.
"Not exactly," he hedged. "More like... unclaid. They exist in a state of flux until soone powerful enough establishes dominance over them."
I leaned forward. "And the process for claiming such a realm?"
"Varies wildly," he admitted. "So require sacrifices, others demand you overco specific trials. The most common thod involves defeating the realm's guardian beast and absorbing its core energy."
"Guardian beast?"
"Every ownerless realm generates a creature from its ambient energy—a manifestation of the realm's nature. Defeat it, and you gain control of the realm's fundantal laws."
I processed this information, thinking of Isabelle trapped sowhere in a Mystic Realm controlled by the Guild. If I could understand how these realms functioned, perhaps I could find a way to reach her. Visit My Virtual Library Empire (*) for more.
"The Scripture Pavilion should have detailed records," I mused aloud. "Historical accounts of cultivators who claid such realms, techniques for navigation..."
"Assuming they let you in," the Man with the Mustache pointed out. "The Guild isn't exactly fond of you at the mont."
My phone rang suddenly, interrupting our conversation. The number displayed was Erson Hols—my contact within the Guild. I frowned. He rarely called unless the situation was urgent.
"Excuse ," I said, stepping onto the balcony for privacy.
"Erson," I answered. "What's—"
"Liam!" His voice was frantic, barely above a whisper. "Listen carefully. Ms. Hayward just hired Bert rcer to kill you!"
My blood ran cold. Bert rcer was infamous in Veridia City—an assassin whose targets never saw him coming. They called him the "Unseen Blade" for his ability to eliminate even well-protected cultivators without leaving a trace.
"Are you certain?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
"Positive," Erson hissed. "I overheard her giving the order. Initially she wanted you dead, but then changed her mind—she wants you captured first. She's suspicious about your abilities and wants answers before deciding your fate."
My mind raced, calculating options and escape routes. "When?"
"Now! He's already on the move. You need to—" The line went dead suddenly.
I turned sharply, scanning the surrounding rooftops and streets. Nothing seed out of place, but that ant nothing when dealing with soone like rcer. He could be anywhere—watching, waiting for the perfect mont to strike.
I hurried back inside. "Pack your things. We're leaving."
"What?" The Man with the Mustache looked up in confusion. "We just got here!"
"No ti to explain," I said, already gathering my essentials. "Clara, grab your backpack. We need to move. Now."
"What's happening?" Clara asked, her eyes wide with alarm.
"Soone's coming for us," I explained, keeping my voice calm despite the urgency. "Soone dangerous."
The Man with the Mustache paled visibly. "Who—"
A soft thud from the balcony interrupted him. We all froze, staring at the glass doors I'd left partially open. For a mont, nothing happened. Then a small tallic object rolled into the room.
"Down!" I shouted, lunging toward Clara.
The device exploded, filling the room with dense, purple smoke. I covered Clara's mouth and nose with my sleeve, but the acrid gas already burned my lungs. My vision blurred, and my limbs felt suddenly heavy.
"Poison gas," I managed to choke out. "Get to the... door..."
The Man with the Mustache had already collapsed, his body twitching violently. Clara went limp in my arms, unconscious but still breathing. I staggered toward the exit, Clara clutched against my chest, but my legs gave out halfway there.
As I fell to my knees, struggling to maintain consciousness, a figure stepped through the balcony doors. Through my darkening vision, I could make out only an unremarkable face and plain clothes—a man who could blend into any crowd.
Bert rcer.
"Nothing personal," he said, his voice as nondescript as his appearance. "Just business."
I tried to summon my cultivation energy, to fight back, but the poison had disrupted my ridians. The last thing I saw before darkness claid was rcer approaching with a syringe in hand.
"Ms. Hayward has questions for you, Liam Knight," he said softly. "And I always deliver what I promise."
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