Golden power surged through my body as I faced Isai Whitlock. His Tai Chi Seal spun furiously in the air before me, a whirling disc of destructive energy that had allegedly never failed against a single opponent.


    I wasn''t intimidated.


    "Absolute Beginning Sacred Fist!" I roared, my fist zing with concentrated golden light.


    Our powers collided with deafening force. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the hall, cracking the marble floors and shattering nearby pirs. For a split second, time seemed to freeze as our techniques fought for dominance.


    Then, like ss under a hammer, the Tai Chi Seal shattered.


    Isai''s eyes widened in disbelief. "Impossible!"


    The bacsh of his own technique mmed into him, sending him flying backward. He crashed into the wall, blood spurting from his mouth. The other Grandmasters who had contributed their energy copsed to their knees, looking pale and drained.


    I advanced toward Isai, my golden aura pulsing with each step.


    "How?" he wheezed, struggling to rise. "Thebined power of seven Grandmasters... broken by a single punch?"


    "Your technique relies on borrowed strength," I said coldly. "Minees from within."


    Fear flickered across his face. "Wait! I can offer you something valuable!"


    I paused, tilting my head. "I''m listening."


    "The Whitlock family has ancient scrolls—techniques that haven''t been seen in centuries!" His words tumbled out desperately. "I can get them for you! Or money! I can pay you a fortune!"


    Conrad observed from the sidelines, his expression unreadable.


    I studied Isai''s terrified face. "And if I spare you today, what happens tomorrow? You run back to Adrian Whitlock and tell him everything about me?"


    Sweat beaded on his forehead. "I swear I won''t—"


    "Lies," I cut him off. "You''d betray me the moment you felt safe."


    Before he could protest further, I struck. My hand plunged straight through his chest, golden energy disintegrating his heart.


    Isai''s eyes bulged in shock. His mouth opened and closed silently as life drained from him.


    "This is the price of betrayal," I said softly.


    As his body slumped, something strange happened. A wisp of white smoke rose from his corpse, condensing into a translucent figure—a stern-faced man with piercing eyes and long white hair.


    "You dare kill my disciple?" the phantom demanded, his voice echoing unnaturally.


    Conrad stepped back, rm crossing his face. "Adrian Whitlock''s spiritual projection!"


    The phantom''s eyes burned with hatred. "You ignorant boy. Do you know what you''ve done? The Whitlock family doesn''t forgive. We don''t forget. Your days are numbered."


    I met his gaze evenly. "Send your threats in person, old man. This shadow puppet doesn''t impress me."


    Rage twisted his spectral features. "I''ll carve your heart out myself!"


    "You can try." I raised my hand, golden power concentrating at my fingertips. "But your cheap tricks won''t save you when we meet."


    With a swift motion, I sent a de of golden energy slicing through the phantom. It shrieked, dissolving into mist.


    Conrad approached cautiously. "That was... reckless. Adrian Whitlock is no ordinary enemy."


    "Just another name on my list," I replied, turning toward the remaining Grandmasters who cowered against the wall.


    They trembled as I approached, their earlier arrogance utterly evaporated.


    "Please," one begged. "We were only following orders!"


    I looked at them dispassionately. "And now you''ll follow Isai."


    What followed wasn''t a battle—it was execution. One by one, they fell. Some fought desperately. Others begged. None survived.


    When it was over, I stood amid the carnage, blood dripping from my hands. The golden light around me began to fade as I absorbed the lingering energy from the fallen masters.


    Conrad watched me with newfound caution. "You''ve changed, Liam."


    I flexed my fingers, feeling the power coursing through my veins. "I''ve adapted." <q ss="in-imprint-a">This content is hosted at *.</q>


    For a brief moment, looking at the devastation around me, I wondered what I was bing. This path to strength was paved with violence. Was this who I needed to be to save Isabelle?


    The thought of her captive, suffering at the hands of the Ashworth family, hardened my resolve. Yes, this was necessary.


    "We need to move quickly," I said, refocusing. "Melvin ckthorne will have felt themotion."


    Conrad nodded. "He''s in the eastern courtyard, likely preparing to flee."


    "Let him try," I replied grimly.


    We moved through thepound swiftly, leaving the chamber of death behind. Guards scattered at our approach, wisely choosing not to challenge us.


    The eastern courtyard was avish garden with a small pavilion at its center. There, surrounded by nervous attendants, stood Melvin ckthorne. His face paled when he saw me approaching.


    "Protect me!" hemanded, pushing one of his attendants forward.


    The young man drew his sword with shaking hands. "Master Knight, please turn back!"


    I didn''t break stride. With a casual sweep of my hand, I sent a wave of golden energy that sliced through his weapon and chest simultaneously. He copsed without a sound.


    Melvin backed away, his aristocratic features contorted with fear. "Do you know who I am? I''m Melvin ckthorne! The ckthorne family will hunt you down for this!"


    I continued advancing. "The ckthorne family, the Whitlock family... so many powerful names."


    "Y-Yes!" He seemed encouraged by my acknowledgment. "Great powers you can''t imagine! If you kill me, you''ll never know peace again!"


    I stopped directly in front of him. Up close, I could see the fine silk of his robes, the jade ornaments in his hair, the rings on his trembling fingers—all symbols of wealth and status.


    "You''ve spent your whole life hiding behind your family name," I observed. "It''s all you know, isn''t it? Using status as a shield."


    His back hit the pavilion wall. There was nowhere left to retreat.


    "I can give you wealth!" he offered desperately. "Techniques, treasures, women—whatever you desire!"


    I shook my head slowly. "You still don''t understand. This isn''t a negotiation."


    "Then what do you want?" he whispered.


    "Justice," I replied simply. "And to send a message."


    Melvin suddenly drew himself up, a final attempt at dignity. "The capital will never tolerate this outrage! My father sits at the right hand of—"


    "Capital this, capital that," I interrupted, my voiceced with contempt. "But in the face of death, what can the capital in your mouth do for you?"


    His face drained of color as the reality of his situation finally sank in. Power, status, wealth—none of it could save him now.


    And in that moment of terrifying rity, Melvin ckthorne finally understood the lesson I''de to teach: before absolute power, all his privileges meant nothing.