"You're entering closed-door training?"
Ebon Akrest narrowed his eyes as he asked.
Theron silently nodded.
"Yes, Father."
It was a rare sight—his son displaying such seriousness.
Clearly, this was a decision made after consulting with the Sword Sovereign, his grandfather.
It was a move to break through the wall of Absolute Peak in the shortest ti possible.
Standing behind Theron was Zephyrion Akrest.
It was, in part, a threat.
A warning that he must not beco an obstacle to Akrest's future.
However, in those eyes, Ebon Akrest also caught sothing else.
"...Very well. When will you begin, and how long will it last?"
"I will enter in seven days... and remain there until one month before the Skyward Assembly."
"And yet, you don't even know when it will be held?"
"Yes. But it is always decided at least six months in advance."
The Skyward Assembly was determined by the leaders of the Nine Great Sects and the Five Noble Clans.
While it had never been postponed beyond five years, there was always a possibility it wouldn't be held for as long as five years.
For all that ti, he would not see sunlight, surviving only on seclusion pills.
It was a decision fueled by sheer determination.
"...Most closed-door trainings don't last that long."
"There is soone I must defeat."
"You an that girl from Mount Suncrest?"
Theron nodded.
Behind him, the Sword Sovereign smiled in satisfaction.
Of course, one defeat wouldn't make his father disregard the finest bloodline of Akrest.
No matter what anyone said, the one closest to being the strongest under heaven was, at least in Akrest, none other than his son.
"I will win, no matter what."
"Are you confident?"
"I wouldn't be doing this if I were."
It was the right answer.
If he had confidence, he wouldn't resort to sothing as extre as five years of seclusion training.
Ebon Akrest narrowed his eyes before nodding.
"You may take as many elixirs and resources from the Clan Leader's Treasury as you need."
"...Would that really be alright?"
As much as he wanted.
That ant without limit.
And never before had the Clan Leader's Treasury been opened without restrictions.
Ebon Akrest stole a glance at his father before turning back to Theron.
"Yes. Take whatever you need. Don't hesitate and regret it later."
"Thank you... truly, thank you."
Theron had never truly acknowledged Ebon Akrest.
Neither as a father nor as a martial artist—he had never been a figure to admire.
But this decision was undeniably significant.
The right to use the Clan Leader's Treasury was exclusively the Clan Leader's authority.
The reason it had remained untouched for generations was singular—
It had been preserved for the one who would beco the true supre warrior under heaven.
And Ebon Akrest understood this intent perfectly.
By investing everything into Theron, the ssage was clear—
He must defeat Vera and beco the sole dragon above the clouds once more.
"Very well. Then, go. I need to speak with Father."
As Ebon Akrest spoke, Zephyrion Akrest furrowed his brows.
But he soon let out a short laugh, easing his expression.
Because Ebon Akrest had shown "sincerity".
By surrendering everything to Theron.
It was a step toward fulfilling Zephyrion Akrest's dream and ambition—the hereditary succession of the Murim Unity Leader.
To be honest, if he took even a small portion of the treasury's elixirs, he could purge the single shard of demonic energy embedded in his dantian.
But Ebon Akrest chose not to.
Instead, he gave it all to Theron.
And now, he intended to claim sothing in exchange.
"I shall take my leave."
Theron bowed to both n before exiting the Clan Leader's Hall.
Only when the door closed, and Theron's footsteps faded into silence—
Did Zephyrion Akrest finally speak.
"Foolish boy."
"Well, thank you for at least waiting until he left before saying that."
"You showed sincerity. The least I can do is let you save face."
Zephyrion Akrest stroked his white beard before sitting in the chair behind the Clan Leader's desk.
It was a seat reserved only for the Clan Leader.
But Ebon Akrest wasn't foolish enough to point that out to the Murim Unity Leader, the Sword Sovereign, his own father.
"When did it start?"
"Since the last regular inspection."
"I had my concerns... but your realm isn't that weak."
Ebon Akrest nodded.
Then, he pressed a few hidden chanisms along the bookshelf and the wall—
Revealing a passage leading underground.
To the prison where the Young Lord's head was sealed.
From that chamber...
A dense, suffocating aura of demonic energy surged forth.
Sothing that had never occurred during Zephyrion Akrest's tenure as Clan Leader.
"...This has beco a serious problem."
"The seal is still holding."
"It wasn't like this during the last inspection."
"If it had been, I would have been suffering long before now."
Zephyrion Akrest furrowed his brows deeply before nodding.
From the beginning, he would never have passed down the Clan Leader's position if he thought Ebon Akrest was incapable of enduring this level of demonic energy.
One of the primary duties of the Clan Leader of Akrest was to oversee the sealing of the Young Lord's head.
This was also why Zephyrion Akrest had deed Ebon Akrest to have at least the minimum qualifications required to take on the position of Clan Leader.
But with this level of demonic energy…
It would not have been easy.
Zephyrion Akrest furrowed his brows, staring at the thick demonic energy seeping out beyond the hidden chamber's threshold.
"This aura should not even be able to cross the threshold."
"There's more to it than that."
"Hmm?"
"The Young Lord's head… spoke."
Zephyrion Akrest's expression darkened further.
His brows twisted into a deep scowl.
anwhile, Ebon Akrest pulled over a finely crafted wooden chair, one typically reserved for guests.
After closing the underground prison's door, he sat down and let out a heavy sigh.
"A severed head… spoke?"
"Yes."
"What did it say?"
"…Sothing incredibly blasphemous."
Ebon Akrest bit his lip, his face uneasy.
Not just because of the aning behind the words…
But because every ti he repeated them, he felt as if he was beginning to believe them.
Perhaps so form of forbidden sorcery…
But Ebon Akrest was not an optimistic fool who would ignore such a dreadful on.
"It shouted… 'The Heavenly Demon lives.'"
"…What?"
"And sotis, I hear that very phrase in my own mind. But that's not all. The Young Lord's voice… has asked whether I desire talent. Of course, it must be a re hallucination…"
Zephyrion Akrest's sharp gaze bore into him.
A stare so piercing and authoritative it felt as if it could strip away his very soul.
"So, how did you respond?"
"…What?"
"I asked, how did you answer?"
"…I said nothing."
Zephyrion Akrest smirked.
That was the correct answer.
Whether it was true or false, right or wrong, the mont he answered was the mont he would have acknowledged its existence.
Demonic energy and internal energy functioned similarly.
They were power—only differing in nature and flow.
And internal energy was controlled by the martial artist's will and emotions.
Would demonic energy not be the sa?
By responding to the Young Lord's voice, he would have admitted to its presence within himself.
And once acknowledged, removing it would beco far more difficult.
Sothing that never existed could disappear without leaving a trace.
But sothing that had once existed…
Would always leave a scar when removed.
The sa applied to one's mind and one's dantian.
"Take off your upper garnt."
"…Thank you."
"Hah. I'm only doing this because it wasn't your own foolish mistake. If it were, I would have let you wither away and die."
It wasn't even an exaggeration.
Left unchecked, it would take anywhere between five to ten years for him to be completely consud by demonic energy.
By then, Theron would be twenty or twenty-five.
A tragic father lost to corruption.
A new, young Clan Leader rising in his place…
A perfect story to enhance the clan's reputation.
There was no way the Sword Sovereign, Zephyrion Akrest, had not already calculated this possibility.
The current peace in the martial world—quiet and seemingly eternal—was a result of his political acun and strategic brilliance.
Ebon Akrest removed his upper robe and set it aside.
The Sword Sovereign slowly rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders as he gathered internal energy into his hands.
Skybound Celestial Force.
A supre martial art, exclusive to the Sword Sovereign, ant to be inherited by Theron.
A technique so vast and overpowering…
That Ebon Akrest had never even been able to initiate the first step due to his lack of talent.
Yet now, he could feel its sheer, overwhelming presence.
"Breathe deeply. Close your eyes, and make no sound."
"I understand."
That was the last thing he could say.
For the next full hour, Ebon Akrest could not move a single inch.
This was energy Purification.
If he so much as opened his mouth, he would instantly be reduced to a cripple.
Even his breathing had to remain perfectly controlled.
Zephyrion Akrest executed the technique with precise and ruthless dominance—
Pouring pure internal energy into Ebon Akrest's core—
Then grasping the single shard of demonic energy lodged within—
And burning it away completely.
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