I felt the weight of the old man''s gaze as he studied me from across the courtyard. Something in his eyes sent a chill down my spine—recognition, but not of me. Of someone else.


    "The King of Eldoria is indeed overbearing," he repeated, taking a measured step forward.


    Conrad''s body tensed beside me. "Elder Whitlock," he whispered, voice tight with rm. "Adrian Whitlock."


    The name meant nothing to me, but Conrad''s reaction told me everything I needed to know. This man was dangerous—exceptionally so.


    "You know me," Adrian acknowledged with a slight nod toward Conrad. "But I doubt your new master does."


    I kept my expression neutral. "Should I?"


    A thin smile formed on Adrian''s weathered face. "No. But I know of you, Liam Knight. Your reputation has spread... interesting whispers."


    The courtyard seemed to shrink as Adrian took another step forward. Though he appeared to be in his seventies, his movements were fluid and precise. There was power in every gesture—restrained, but unmistakable.


    "The resemnce is uncanny," Adrian murmured, more to himself than to me.


    "What resemnce?" I asked sharply.


    Instead of answering, Adrian raised his hand in a casual gesture. Beside me, Conrad suddenly gasped and froze in ce, as if invisible chains had wrapped around his body. <kbd ss="meta-ref-static">Your support on * keeps this series going.</kbd>


    "Conrad!" I turned to see him struggling against nothing, his face contorted with effort.


    "He''s fine," Adrian said dismissively. "I merely wish to speak with you privately."


    I stared at the immobilized Conrad. With a mere gesture, this old man had neutralized one of the strongest cultivators I knew. What level of power was I facing?


    "Release him," I demanded.


    "In due time." Adrian circled me slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. "Tell me, young man, what do you know of your father?"


    The question caught me off guard. "My father died when I was an infant. I never knew him."


    "And yet his blood runs strong in you." Adrian''s eyes narrowed. "You''ve awakened to cultivation quite recently, yes? Ate bloomer with extraordinary talent."


    I remained silent, unwilling to reveal anything to this stranger.


    Adrian chuckled. "Your caution is wise. Let me be direct, then. I am Adrian Whitlock, Elder of the Western Range. I''vee to test you."


    "Test me?" I echoed.


    "Yes. Inbat." Adrian''s tone was matter-of-fact. "Three days from now. I wish to see your abilities firsthand."


    My mind raced. This man''s power was clearly vast—far beyond my current level. "You want to fight me?"


    "Don''t worry. I''ll suppress my cultivation to match yours—Foundation Building Stage Peak, yes?" Adrian smiled. "A fair contest of skill, not raw power."


    I studied his face, searching for deception. "Why would someone of your standing challenge me?"


    "Let''s call it... curiosity." Adrian waved his hand again, and Conrad suddenly gasped as he was released from the invisible binding. "Three days. The northern clearing beyond the city limits. Dawn."


    With that, he turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing, young Knight. My disciples will be watching. Do try to impress them."


    After Adrian disappeared from sight, Conrad staggered toward me, his face pale. "Sir Liam, do you understand who that was?"


    "Tell me."


    "Adrian Whitlock—one of the most powerful elders in River North. He''s rumored to be at the Martial Grandmaster realm, possibly even approaching Martial Saint." Conrad''s voice trembled slightly. "And he''s vowed to kill you."


    I frowned. "Kill me? Why?"


    "I don''t know, but his arrival here isn''t coincidence. He mentioned a resemnce..." Conrad shook his head. "This is dangerous. Even if he suppresses his cultivation, he has decades more experience than you."


    I nodded slowly. "Then I''ll need to prepare."


    ---


    The next two days passed in intensive preparation. I secluded myself in meditation, refining my techniques and sorting through thebat experience I''d gained in recent battles.


    On the evening before the duel, as I prepared my equipment, a messenger arrived with a small wooden box.


    "From Elder Adrian Whitlock," the young man stammered before hurrying away.


    Inside the boxy a single leaf—vibrant green with faint gold veins running through it.


    "Enlightenment Tea," I murmured, recognizing the legendary herb from ancient texts. One leaf was said to enhance a cultivator''s mental rity and spiritual sensitivity for a full day. Three leaves together could potentially trigger a breakthrough in cultivation.


    A note apanied the herb: "To sharpen your mind for tomorrow''s exchange. Use it wisely. —AW"


    Was this a gesture of goodwill? Or something else? I carefully ced the leaf in a small pouch, deciding to save it for the morning.


    Unknown to me, miles away in an elegant mountain retreat, another scene was unfolding.


    ---


    Preston Ironwood, Adrian Whitlock''s eldest disciple, had spent years watching younger talents surpass him. Despite his heritage and connections, his cultivation had stagnated at Grandmaster Fourth Rank for nearly a decade.


    When his master returned from visiting Liam Knight, Preston noted the small wooden box Adrian had brought back. His curiosity piqued when Adrian removed three leaves of Enlightenment Tea—one to be sent to Liam Knight, the other two safely stored in Adrian''s private chamber.


    That night, as Adrian meditated in seclusion, Preston made his move. Slipping past the outer wards with practiced ease, he located the remaining tea leaves in a jade container.


    "Just one," he whispered to himself, "Master will never notice if I take just one."


    But as he held the precious leaf between his fingers, feeling its energy pulse against his skin, greed overcame caution. In one swift motion, he consumed all three leaves at once.


    The effect was immediate and overwhelming. Preston copsed to his knees as raging energy surged through his meridians, expanding his spiritual sea beyond its natural limits. His body convulsed as power flooded every channel, breaking through barriers that had resisted him for years.


    When dawn broke the next day, Preston Ironwood stood at Grandmaster Eighth Rank—surpassing even his master.


    ---


    I arrived at the northern clearing exactly at dawn, the single leaf of Enlightenment Tea already working its magic in my system. My senses felt sharper, my spiritual energy more responsive.


    The clearing was empty save for a smooth stone ced in the center—a makeshift arena marker.


    Adrian Whitlock appeared from the treeline precisely as the sun crested the horizon. He wore the same simple gray robes, but now carried an aged wooden staff.


    "You came," he observed. "Good."


    I nodded, studying him carefully. "Before we begin, I have a question."


    "Speak."


    I met his gaze directly. "You keep saying I am his descendant. Who is the ''he'' you''re talking about in your words?"