Liam''s Perspective


    "Flood Dragon Vige?" Eamon''s face went pale. "Are you serious?"


    I nodded, watching his reaction. "I need to test my current strength. What better ce than where strength is the only currency?"


    After Conrad Thornton''s unexpected departure yesterday, I''d been restless. His words lingered in my mind: *Your most dangerous momentse when everyone believes you''re at your weakest.* He was right, but not in the way he thought.


    "This is insanity," Eamon protested, pacing the room. "You''re supposed to be injured, remember? We''ve been spreading rumors about your weakened state for days!"


    "Which makes it the perfect time to go," I countered. "I need to know exactly what I''m capable of now."


    Sofia stood in the doorway, arms crossed. "I''ming too."


    "Absolutely not," I said.


    "You might need medical assistance." Her tone left no room for argument. "Besides, I''ve been to Flood Dragon Vige before. The healers there have unique techniques."


    Eamon looked between us. "So we''re actually doing this? Walking into a vige full of martial artists who''d love nothing more than to make their name by defeating Liam Knight?"


    I smiled. "That''s exactly what we''re doing."


    ---


    The drive to Flood Dragon Vige took two hours. Eamon gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.


    "It''s not toote to turn back," he muttered as mountains rose around us.


    "Keep driving," I replied, watching thendscape change. Rugged cliffs gave way to mist-covered valleys. Ancient trees lined the road, their gnarled branches reaching toward the sky like beckoning fingers.


    Sofia leaned forward from the back seat. "Flood Dragon Vige was established by the Martial Arts Association years ago. It''s a ce where martial artists can train and trade without interference from city authorities."


    "And kill each other," Eamon added grimly.


    "Only if both parties agree to a death match," Sofia corrected. "Though idents happen."


    The road narrowed, winding up a steep incline. A wooden arch appeared ahead, dragon carvings adorning its sides. Beyond it, weathered buildings clung to the mountainside.


    "We''re here," I announced as we passed under the arch.


    Eamon parked at the vige entrance. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across cobblestone streets. People moved through the fading light, many carrying weapons openly.


    "Divine Dragon Street is where we want to go," I said, stepping out of the car.


    Eamon nearly choked. "Divine Dragon Street? Are you trying to get us killed? That''s the most dangerous area in the entire vige!"


    "Why?" Sofia asked.


    Eamon''s expression was incredulous. "You don''t know? On Divine Dragon Street, the strong can take from the weak. By force. It''s theirw."


    "Exin," I prompted, intrigued.


    "If someone has something you want—a weapon, a technique scroll, even just food—you can challenge them for it. If you win, it''s yours." Eamon shook his head. "People can even raid homes if they''re strong enough to defeat the upants."


    "What about murder?" Sofia asked.


    "Forbidden," Eamon replied. "But anything short of death is fair game. It''s meant to stimte martial arts advancement through constant pressure."


    I nodded. "Sounds perfect."


    "Perfect?" Eamon''s voice cracked. "It''s barbaric!"


    "It''s honest," I corrected. "Real strength can''t hide there, and neither can real weakness."


    Sofia adjusted her medical bag. "How do we get to Divine Dragon Street?"


    Eamon pointed toward the center of the vige. "That way. But I''m begging you—let''s go somewhere else. Anywhere else."


    I pped him on the shoulder. "Think of it as a valuable learning experience."


    "I''ve learned enough," he muttered, but followed nheless.


    ---


    Divine Dragon Street lived up to its reputation. Unlike the rest of the vige, it was brightly lit bynterns casting red and gold light across the storefronts. Every building had reinforced doors and windows. Shopkeepers stood guard over their merchandise, many wielding weapons.


    People moved differently here—on high alert, shoulders tense, eyes constantly scanning for threats. Some traveled in groups for protection. Others walked alone, their confidence suggesting considerable power.


    The moment we entered the street, heads turned. Conversations paused. Eyes narrowed.


    "They''re watching us," Eamon whispered unnecessarily.


    "Of course they are," I replied calmly. "We''re strangers."


    Sofia stayed close to my side. "Several people have recognized you already. I can see it in their reactions."


    She was right. Whispers followed us, growing louder as we progressed down the street.


    "Isn''t that Liam Knight?"


    "The one who challenged the Guild?"


    "I heard he''s injured..."


    "Weakened after the battle with Langley..." <var ss="meta-ref-static">For a better reading experience, visit *).</var>


    A group of burly men blocked our path. Their leader, sporting a jagged scar across his face, stepped forward.


    "What brings the famous Liam Knight to our humble street?" he asked, voice dripping with false courtesy.


    Before I could answer, a sharp pain shot through my chest. Not part of my act this time. My damaged dantian pulsed erratically, sending ripples of agony through my meridians.


    I coughed involuntarily, tasting blood.


    Eamon grabbed my arm, steadying me. "Mr. Knight!"


    The crowd''s focus intensified. I could feel dozens of eyes boring into me, measuring my weakness. The whispers grew louder, more excited. Predators sensing wounded prey.


    "Just catching my breath," I said, straightening up and wiping blood from my lips. "Nothing to worry about."


    The scarred man''s eyes gleamed. "Doesn''t look like nothing to me. The rumors are true then? The great Liam Knight has fallen from grace?"


    I met his gaze steadily. "Why don''t you find out for yourself?"


    Tension crackled in the air. More people appeared from side alleys, drawn by the prospect of conflict. I sensed at least three martial artists of significant power watching from the shadows.


    "Perhaps I will," the scarred man said, taking a step closer. "I''ve always wanted a famous sword like yours."


    Sofia moved her hand to her medical pouch. Eamon shifted his stance, preparing for trouble.


    I remained still, allowing a thin smile to cross my face. "You''re wee to try."


    The man hesitated, something in my expression giving him pause. But others were already moving forward, emboldened by the smell of blood.


    From the corner of my eye, I spotted a slender figure on a rooftop, observing the scene with unusual intensity. Another appeared at a second-story window, amunication talisman glowing in his hand.


    Word was spreading quickly. More woulde.


    "Mr. Knight," Eamon whispered urgently. "We should leave. Now."


    "No," I replied calmly. "This is exactly where I need to be."


    The crowd pressed closer, tightening like a noose around us. Some had weapons drawn now, eager to test themselves against a legend—especially one rumored to be weakened.


    Sofia''s face was tense but resolute. "Whatever happens, I''m ready."


    I nodded appreciatively. Looking around at the hungry faces surrounding us, I felt something I hadn''t experienced in a long time: the pure, rifying focus of imminent danger.


    My damaged dantian throbbed painfully. My qi cirction remained unstable. But as the first attacker took a step forward, I felt something else stirring deep within me—a power that had nothing to do with cultivation techniques or magical artifacts.


    The power of having absolutely nothing left to lose.


    "Well then," I said softly, rolling my shoulders as the mob closed in. "Let''s see just how weak I really am."