The sleek town car pulled to a stop at the entrance of Eldoria International Airport. Caspian Kane straightened his tie and checked his watch—Isabelle Ashworth''s flight hadnded twenty minutes ago. As if on cue, the airport''s ss doors slid open, and she emerged,manding attention despite her simple attire.


    "Ms. Ashworth," I greeted, opening the car door for her. "Wee to Eldoria."


    Isabelle''s eyes were cold, calcting. "Spare me the pleasantries, Caspian. What''s thetest on Liam Knight?"


    I waited until we were both seated in the car before answering. "He''s been holed up in the Eastern Cemetery for the past day. Buying strange items from local shops—candles, chalk, various herbs. The duel with Conrad Thornton is set for tomorrow morning."


    "And Conrad?"


    "Furious. He''s called in favors from three neighboring cities. There are at least six Foundation Building Stage 9 cultivators at the Thorntonpound right now."


    Isabelle''s expression didn''t change, but her fingers tightened slightly around her handbag. "I need you to monitor Liam''s movements closely. If things go poorly tomorrow, I want you to eliminate Conrad Thornton."


    I couldn''t hide my surprise. "That''s... a significant esction."


    "If necessary," she continued as if I hadn''t spoken, "wipe out the entire Thornton family. I''ve already made arrangements to protect your interests should that be necessary."


    The coldness in her voice sent a chill down my spine. I''d known Isabelle Ashworth was powerful, but this level of casual ruthlessness was unexpected.


    "May I ask why?" I ventured.


    Her eyes met mine. "No, you may not. Just know that Liam Knight''s survival is paramount. Do we understand each other?"


    I nodded slowly. "Perfectly."


    ---


    The Eastern Cemetery was shrouded in early morning mist as I knelt beside a small stone altar I''d constructed. Three days of preparation had led to this moment. I''d spent every waking hour setting up formations, gathering materials, and strengthening my cultivation.


    Foundation Building Stage 3. It wasughablepared to Conrad''s Grandmaster status, but power wasn''t always measured in stages alone.


    I ced the bronze sword—an ancient relic I''d acquired at considerable cost—on the altar beside the small stone statue. Both items pulsed with faint energy, responding to the formations I''d inscribed around the perimeter of this secluded corner of the cemetery.


    My preparations were interrupted by heavy footsteps approaching through the mist. I didn''t need to look up to recognize Uncle Armando''s distinctive gait—the second-inmand of the Thornton Family and Conrad''s most loyal attack dog.


    "Liam Knight," he called out, his voice carrying easily through the quiet cemetery. "I''vee with a proposition from the Thornton Family."


    I continued my work, not bothering to look up. "I''m listening."


    Uncle Armando stepped closer, his Foundation Building Stage 8 cultivation sending ripples through the air. "Conrad is willing to spare your life."


    That got my attention. I stood slowly, turning to face him. "On what terms?"


    A smirk spread across his weathered face. "Simple. You''ll heal Tristin Thornton from whatever you did to him. Then you''ll kneel publicly before the Thornton Family and apologize for your disrespect."


    I couldn''t help butugh. "Is that all? Perhaps Conrad would like me to shine his shoes afterward?"


    Uncle Armando''s expression hardened. "Don''t be a fool, boy. You''re facing certain death. Conrad is a Grandmaster—you''re barely at Foundation Building Stage 3. This mercy is more than you deserve."


    "Mercy?" I echoed, stepping away from the altar. "Is that what the Thorntons call it when they cripple Alistair Northwood and destroy Killian Moreau''s cultivation? When they terrorize this city and use their power to crush anyone who dares stand against them?"


    "Those were necessary demonstrations of strength," he replied dismissively. "As tomorrow will be, when Conrad crushes you publicly."


    I stepped closer to him, close enough that he could feel my breath. "Let me be clear. I''m not interested in Conrad''s mercy. When we meet tomorrow, only one of us will leave this cemetery alive."


    Uncle Armando''s eyes narrowed. "Your arrogance exceeds even your stupidity. Very well. I''ll deliver your refusal to Conrad." He turned to leave, then paused. "You should know—after Conrad kills you, we''ll dismantle everything and everyone you care about in this city. Roman, ric, even that hotel manager who''s been helping you... all of them will suffer for your hubris."


    Something inside me snapped. As Uncle Armando turned his back, I moved. <strong ss="in-imprint-a">Brought to you by *.</strong>


    My hand shot out, faster than he could track, striking directly at his back—at the precise point where his dantian was located. I channeled all my energy into my palm, using a technique I''d developed specifically for this purpose.


    Uncle Armando''s scream cut through the morning silence as he copsed to his knees. His eyes bulged with shock and pain as he tried to ess his cultivation, finding nothing but emptiness where his energy should have been.


    "What... what have you done?" he gasped, genuine fear recing his earlier arrogance.


    I looked down at him coldly. "Consider it a message for Conrad. Tell him this is just a taste of what awaits him tomorrow."


    Uncle Armando struggled to his feet, his face ashen. "You''ve destroyed my cultivation," he whispered in horror. "How is that possible? You''re only at Foundation Building Stage 3!"


    "Stages can be deceiving," I replied. "Now go. Unless you''d like me to take something else from you as well."


    He stumbled away, shock and terror radiating from him. I watched him go, then returned to my preparations. The confrontation had cost me valuable energy, but it was worth it. The message would reach Conrad soon enough.


    ---


    True to my prediction, word of what I''d done to Uncle Armando spread quickly. By nightfall, the Thorntonpound was in chaos. I received this information from William, who had eyes and ears throughout the city.


    "Conrad is beside himself with rage," William reported, handing me a cup of tea as I continued working on the final aspects of my preparations. "They say he broke every piece of furniture in his office when Uncle Armando returned. The news that you destroyed the cultivation of a Foundation Building Stage 8 cultivator has everyone talking."


    I nodded, taking a sip of the tea. "And the others? Roman? ric?"


    "I''ve moved them to safe houses outside the city, as you requested. They weren''t happy about it."


    "They''ll be happy to be alive tomorrow," I replied.


    William hesitated before asking, "Are you certain about this, Liam? Conrad is bringing everything he has. The Eastern Cemetery will be surrounded by his people."


    "Good," I said, my eyes fixed on the bronze sword that would y a crucial role tomorrow. "Let him bring his army. It won''t save him."


    ---


    Morning dawned clear and cold. I arrived at the Eastern Cemetery an hour before the appointed time, checking each formation I''d established over the past three days. Everything was in ce.


    I wore simple clothes—dark pants, a white shirt, and a light jacket. No armor, no fancy talismans visible. Just me, the bronze sword at my waist, and the small stone statue tucked into my pocket.


    Gradually, people began to arrive. Word of the duel had spread far beyond Eldoria, drawing cultivators and curious onlookers from neighboring cities. They gathered at the edges of the cemetery, maintaining a respectful distance from the central area where the duel would take ce.


    I spotted familiar faces in the crowd. Killian Moreau hade, leaning heavily on a cane. Ss Northwood stood at the far edge, his face grim with hope and fear. Even Miguel Pratt, the city''s most prominent merchant, was present—likely wondering which side to back in theing conflict.


    And then there was Caspian Kane, standing apart from the others, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. I knew he wasn''t there merely as a spectator. The question was whose interests he truly represented.


    At exactly nine o''clock, a fleet of ck cars pulled up to the cemetery entrance. The crowd parted as Conrad Thornton''s entourage made their way toward the center. I counted at least twelve Foundation Building Stage cultivators surrounding him, each one ready to defend their master at a moment''s notice.


    My heart rate increased, but I kept my breathing steady. Everything I''d worked for came down to this moment.


    As soon as the car stopped, Conrad Thornton stepped out.