The mountain air grew crisp and pure as our carriage climbed higher into the lush terrain of Bergerac Province. I watched the scenery transform from my window, thend bing increasingly verdant and vibrant with each passing mile.


    "The spiritual energy is particrly dense here," Adrian remarked, breaking a lengthy silence. "It''s why the Celestial Apothecary Guild established their northern branch nearby."


    I nodded, feeling the change myself. The air practically hummed with energy, making my cultivation base respond without conscious effort.


    "How much farther to your home?" I asked.


    "Just around this ridge," Adrian replied, a hint of pride warming his typically stoic voice. "My family has held thisnd for seven generations."


    Eamon, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout most of our journey, finally ventured ament. "So this is where you trained all those disciples I''ve heard about?"


    Adrian''s expression softened slightly. "Yes. Twenty-seven disciples, each selected for their unique talents and dedication."


    The carriage rounded the mountain path, and a sprawling estate came into view. Stone walls encircled elegant pavilions and training grounds nestled harmoniously into the mountainside. Winding paths connected various buildings, and a central courtyard featured a magnificent marble fountain.


    Yet something felt wrong. The estate stood eerily silent.


    "Where is everyone?" I asked, immediately noticing the absence of disciples who should be training in the yards.


    Adrian frowned, his body tensing. "Something''s not right."


    As our carriage pulled through the open gates, the wrongness of the situation became oppressive. No servants came to greet us. No disciples practiced in the courtyards. The fountain stood still, its waters stagnant.


    "Wait here," Adrianmanded, leaping from the carriage with frightening speed.


    I exchanged nces with Eamon before following anyway. Whatever danger lurked here, I needed to be prepared.


    "Master Whitlock!" I called after him. "Let me help search."


    Adrian paused, conflict evident on his face before giving a terse nod. "Check the eastern quarters. Eamon, take the western wing. I''ll search the main hall."


    We split up, moving swiftly through the desertedpound. Each empty room I passed heightened my unease. Training equipmenty scattered as if abandoned mid-use. Half-eaten meals rotted on tables. In one bedroom, a booky open on the floor, a cup of tea spilled beside it.


    "Liam! Master Whitlock!" Eamon''s panicked voice rang out from the western section. "I found blood! A lot of it!"


    I rushed toward his voice, my heart pounding. When I arrived, Eamon stood pale-faced in a doorway. Inside, dried blood stained the floor and walls of what appeared to be a meditation room.


    "There was a struggle," I observed grimly. "But no bodies."


    Adrian appeared behind us, his expression darkening further. "We must check the secret chamber. The Enlightenment Tea—"


    He didn''t finish his sentence, already moving toward the main hall. We followed quickly, watching as he pressed a hidden mechanism in the wall. A concealed door swung open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness.


    "Stay alert," Adrian warned as he created a small me in his palm to light our way.


    The staircase led to an underground chamber filled with shelves of ancient texts and rare herbs. At the center stood an ornate pedestal, clearly meant to disy something of great importance.


    It was empty.


    "No," Adrian whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "The Enlightenment Tea is gone."


    The devastation on his face was palpable. Whatever had happened here had struck at something deeply personal.


    A faint sound caught my attention—barely audible, like a whimper from somewhere outside.


    "Did you hear that?" I asked, already moving toward the exit.


    We emerged from the chamber and followed the sound to thepound''s rear courtyard. There, a dried-up well stood in the center of an overgrown garden.


    The sound came again—definitely human,ing from inside the well.


    "Someone''s down there," I said, peering into the darkness below.


    Adrian immediately began lowering himself into the well. Momentster, his voice echoed up. "There''s someone here! Help me bring him up!" <cite ss="frag-dbcb56">Text<i ss="node-sep"></i>acquired<i ss="node-sep"></i>from<i ss="node-sep"></i>M|V|LEMP&YR.</cite>


    Together, Eamon and I helped Adrian carry a thin, disheveled young man from the well. His clothes were tattered, his body weak from apparent days without food. When he saw Adrian, his eyes widened with recognition and relief.


    "Master!" he cried weakly. "You''re alive! We thought—" His voice broke into sobs.


    Adrian cradled the young disciple, his typical stoicism crumbling. "Lin, what happened here? Where are the others?"


    The young man trembled violently. "It was Senior Brother Preston. He... he betrayed us all."


    Adrian''s face went deathly pale. "Preston Ironwood? My first disciple?"


    Lin nodded weakly. "He returned from his mission early, iming he''d made a great discovery. He said he would start his own sect... that he''d surpassed you. He demanded we all join him."


    My stomach clenched at the familiar story of betrayal—a trusted disciple turning against his master.


    "When most refused," Lin continued, tears streaming down his face, "he... he killed them. All of them, Master. Only a few agreed to follow him."


    Adrian''s hands began to shake uncontrobly. "All of them? All twenty-six?"


    "I only survived because I hid in the well when the fighting began. I''ve been there for days, too afraid toe out." Lin''s voice cracked with exhaustion and trauma. "He took everything from your private chambers, including the special tea you guarded."


    I watched as Adrian''s expression transformed from shock to hollow devastation. His breathing became irregr, his face ashen.


    "Master Whitlock," I said gently, cing a hand on his shoulder. "Let''s get him inside. He needs medical attention."


    Adrian didn''t respond, seemingly lost in a fog of grief. With Eamon''s help, I guided both Adrian and Lin to the main hall, where we found clean water and some preserved food in the kitchens.


    After tending to Lin''s immediate needs, I used my medical knowledge to stabilize his condition. The young man soon fell into an exhausted sleep on one of the hall''s couches.


    Adrian remained silent throughout, staring vacantly at the floor. I''d seen this look before—the thousand-yard stare of someone whose entire world had just copsed.


    "Twenty-six disciples," Adrian finally whispered, his voice hollow. "Twenty-six children I raised, taught, protected... gone."


    I sat beside him, saying nothing. Some griefs were too profound for constion.


    "Preston was my first," Adrian continued, almost speaking to himself. "I found him when he was just a boy, starving in the streets of River North. I raised him like a son for twenty years."


    His hands clenched into fists. "And this is how he repays me? By ughtering his brothers and sisters? By stealing what wasn''t his to take?"


    "What was so special about this Enlightenment Tea?" I asked carefully.


    Adrian''s eyes finally focused on me. "It was my life''s work, Liam. A cultivation breakthrough thates once in a generation. And it was meant for you."


    "For me?" I couldn''t hide my surprise.


    "Your father..." Adrian''s voice broke. He suddenly seemed much older, the weight of his loss aging him before my eyes. "I made a promise."


    He struggled to his feet, swaying slightly. "I need to lie down. The room to your right—you and Eamon can rest there tonight."


    I helped Adrian to his chambers, concerned by his deteriorating condition. Grief could be as devastating as any physical wound, especially for cultivators whose mental and physical states were so deeply intertwined.


    "We''ll find Preston," I assured him. "We''ll recover what was stolen."


    Adrian looked at me with hollow eyes as he sank onto his bed. "It''s toote. The Enlightenment Tea requires precise timing to be effective. By now, he''s either used it or destroyed its potency through improper handling."


    I stood helplessly at his bedside, watching a great master reduced to a shell of himself by betrayal.


    "I''m sorry," I said, inadequate words for such profound loss.


    Adrian reached out suddenly, gripping my wrist with surprising strength. His eyes, though reddened with grief, fixed intensely on mine.


    "Liam Knight," he said, his voice breaking, "I''m sorry I couldn''t keep the promise your father made..."