Liam''s Perspective


    The stench of death still clung to me as I returned to my temporary hideout. Killing Colt Knightwood had been necessary. Disying his body in the town square afterward—perhaps not. But I needed to send a message.


    The Knightwood family had fallen overnight. Their patriarch''s headless corpse, hung from the clock tower with a sign detailing his crimes, saw to that. Fear rippled through Unchon City like wildfire.


    Perfect timing to build my foundation.


    I sat cross-legged on the floor of my rented room, scrolling through The Warrior''s Scroll on my phone. This martial arts forum was the fastest way to spread information in our world. My announcement was simple:


    "Liam Knight seeks disciples. Those with courage to defy corrupt powers,e to Jade Peak tomorrow at noon."


    I set the phone down and closed my eyes. Building a sect from scratch wouldn''t be easy, but I needed allies for what wasing.


    Three hourster, my phone buzzed incessantly. I grabbed it, expecting applications from potential disciples.


    Instead, my blood ran cold.


    "EMERGENCY ALERT: Half-step Martial Marquis Dashiell ckthorne issues formal challenge to criminal Liam Knight. Public execution scheduled during ckthorne-Ashworth wedding ceremony in four months."


    Below that, a second headline: "Dashiell ckthorne: ''No disciple of criminal Knight will find safety in any major city.''"


    My recruitment post had been deleted. In its ce—dozens of panicked messages from potential allies backtracking, apologizing, running scared.


    "Damn it!" I hurled my phone across the room. It cracked against the wall but didn''t break.


    Dashiell had outmaneuvered me perfectly. He''d not only threatened anyone who might join me but also publicly announced his intention to kill me at his wedding to Isabelle.


    The wedding that should never happen. The wedding I would stop at any cost. <em ss="story-note-vis">First sееn оn МV4LЕМР|YR.</em>


    I retrieved my phone, scowling at the screen. The forum had exploded with activity. Most posts sided with Dashiell, calling me a criminal, a murderer, a disgrace to the martial world.


    Public opinion had turned against me overnight.


    A new post appeared at the top, pinned by the forum administrators:


    "BREAKING: Dashiell ckthorne achieves half-step Martial Marquis realm! Exclusive interview inside."


    I clicked, bracing myself.


    The interview began with fawning praise for Dashiell''s recent breakthrough. The reporter described him as "radiant with power" and "the youngest half-step Martial Marquis in a century."


    Then came the questions about me.


    "Young Master ckthorne, rumors suggest Liam Knight poses a significant threat to you. How do you respond?"


    Dashiell''s smug face filled the screen as a video began ying. Heughed, the sound grating on my nerves.


    "Liam Knight? A threat? Please. He''s nothing more than a desperatemoner who got lucky with some stolen techniques."


    The reporter nodded eagerly. "Yet he''s defeated several powerful opponents. The Sterling family, Oliver Monroe..."


    Dashiell waved dismissively. "Low-level garbage. Any decent martial artist could have done the same."


    "And what about your uing marriage to Isabelle Ashworth? Sources im Knight has some... connection to her."


    Dashiell''s face darkened convincingly. "That''s the most disgusting part of this whole affair. Knight has been obsessively pursuing Isabelle for years. The poor woman is terrified of him."


    My knuckles whitened around the phone. Pure lies.


    "After her grandfather''s tragic passing—murdered by Knight, I might add—Isabelle has been inconsble. Our marriage will provide her the protection and stability she desperately needs."


    "You iming Michael Ashworth was murdered by Knight is a serious allegation," the reporter said, feigning shock while clearly delighted by the controversy.


    Dashiell nodded gravely. "Michael was a friend to all of us. He even helped that ungrateful bastard Knight when he was nothing. And how was he repaid? With a knife in the back."


    I stood up, rage boiling through me. Michael had died protecting me. He''d given his life to save mine. And this piece of shit was using his death for propaganda.


    "So the wedding serves multiple purposes?" the reporter asked.


    "Indeed. It unites two great families, protects Isabelle, and will finally bring justice for Michael Ashworth when I execute his killer before all of Veridia''s elite."


    The reporter leaned forward eagerly. "You''re confident you can defeat Knight?"


    Dashiell''sugh was cold. "I achieved half-step Martial Marquis yesterday. Knight is barely at the peak of Master realm. The gap between us is like heaven and earth."


    He stared directly into the camera, as if speaking to me. "Knight, if you''re watching this—run while you still can. Hide in some backwater vige. Change your name. Forget about Isabelle Ashworth. Because if you show your face at my wedding, I will destroy you so thoroughly that not even your ashes will remain."


    The interview continued, but I''d heard enough. I closed the video, breathing heavily through clenched teeth.


    Thements section below was worse. Hundreds of martial artists praising Dashiell, condemning me. The narrative had been masterfully crafted—Dashiell the noble protector, me the obsessive criminal.


    My phone nearly shattered in my grip. Every instinct screamed to post a rebuttal, to tell the truth about Michael''s death, about Isabelle''s captivity, about Dashiell''s true nature.


    But that would aplish nothing. Words couldn''t win this battle.


    Only power could.


    I took a deep breath, calming the rage that threatened to consume me. Dashiell had yed this well. By publicly challenging me and threatening any potential allies, he''d isted mepletely.


    So be it. I''d faced worse odds before.


    I opened thement section and typed a simple response:


    "Dashiell ckthorne, see you in four months."


    The moment I posted it, notifications exploded. Martial artists from across the country responded, most mocking my confidence, others cing bets on how quickly Dashiell would kill me.


    I ignored them all and set my phone aside.


    Four months. That was all the time I had to bridge the gap between peak Master and half-step Martial Marquis.


    Under normal circumstances, such advancement would take years, perhaps decades. But my circumstances were far from normal.


    I reached into my pocket and withdrew the ancient scroll I''d taken from Zion. The divine seal technique could prove useful, if I could master it.


    I also had the Nine Secrets from Jackson Harding. Only three had been unlocked so far, but each one had dramatically increased my power.


    Most importantly, I had no choice. Isabelle''s life depended on me stopping that wedding.


    A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.


    I tensed, instantly alert. Nobody should know I was here.


    "Who is it?" I called, gathering my qi into my palm.


    "A messenger," came the muffled reply. "I have something for Liam Knight."


    I approached cautiously, ready for an ambush. Through the peephole, I saw a single man in nondescript clothing, holding a small package.


    I opened the door a crack, blocking it with my foot. "What''s that?"


    The man extended the package. "From Mariana Valerius."


    My eyebrows rose. The Pavilion Master of the Celestial Apothecary Guild had found me? I took the package and scanned the man''s qi channels. No signs of deception or hidden power.


    "Thank you," I said, epting the small wooden box.


    The messenger bowed slightly and departed without another word.


    Back inside, I examined the box carefully before opening it. Insidey a single pill, gleaming with golden light, alongside a note in Mariana''s elegant handwriting:


    "The Foundation Essence Pill. Use it wisely. Four months is not long, but it might be enough. Remember what I taught you about the Chaotic Body—embrace both light and darkness. —M.V."


    I stared at the pill in awe. Foundation Essence Pills were legendary, said to elerate cultivation breakthroughs by years. They were also incredibly rare and expensive.


    This single pill represented Mariana risking her position to help me.


    I tucked the pill away safely. Not yet—I would need perfect conditions to maximize its effectiveness.


    My phone buzzed again. Another notification from The Warrior''s Scroll:


    "Dashiell ckthorne responds to Knight''s challenge: ''The condemned man sets his own execution date. How considerate.''"


    I turned off my phone and began packing my few belongings. Unchon City was no longer safe. Dashiell would have people searching for me within hours.


    As I prepared to leave, my resolve hardened into something cold and unbreakable. Dashiell thought he''d won this round with his twisted narrative and public posturing.


    He had no idea what wasing.


    In four months, I would crash his wedding. I would save Isabelle. And I would show Dashiell ckthorne exactly why the name Liam Knight would one day make even Martial Saints tremble.