Liam''s Perspective


    I stared at the flickering screen of my phone, watching myself retreat again and again. The video showed me desperately evading attacks from the three masters of Divine Dragon Street, my movements growing visibly slower with each exchange. To anyone watching, I looked like a man barely clinging to life.


    Thements beneath the video were brutal.


    "Knight''s finished. Look at how he can''t even counterattack!"


    "Those rumors about his damaged dantian must be true."


    "From killing Guild Elders to running away like a dog. How the mighty have fallen."


    A coldugh escaped my lips. Let them think what they wanted. Perception was a weapon I could wield just as effectively as any de.


    Someone had taken the footage yesterday and uploaded it to The Warrior''s Scroll, the most popr martial arts forum in the country. Within hours, it had spread like wildfire. My apparent downfall was the talk of the cultivation world.


    I closed the app and winced as pain shot through my shoulder. The injuries were real enough, but not nearly as devastating as everyone believed. Still, I needed time—time to heal, time to prepare, time to strategize. And nothing bought time like being underestimated.


    A soft knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.


    "Master Knight?" Sofia''s voice was barely audible. "Are you awake?"


    "Come in," I called, tucking my phone away.


    She entered quietly, her eyes darting nervously around the room before settling on me. "I wanted to check on your wounds."


    "They''re healing," I lied. The truth was they hurt like hell, but I''d endured worse.


    Sofia approached hesitantly. "I sent a message to the Pavilion Masterst night."


    I stiffened. "You did what?"


    "I had to," she said, her voice small but determined. "You need help, Master Knight. Real help."


    "And has she responded?" I asked, already knowing the answer.


    Sofia shook her head. "Not yet."


    Of course not. Mariana Valerius, the formidable Pavilion Master, had her own battles to fight. I couldn''t expect her to drop everything for me.


    "It was worth trying," I said, softening my tone at Sofia''s crestfallen expression. "But we proceed as nned. I leave for the mountains today."


    My phone buzzed. Dashiell ckthorne''s name shed on the screen.


    "Speak of the devil," I muttered, epting the call.


    "Knight!" His voice boomed through the speaker. "I heard the most delightful news. Is it true your dantian is shattered beyond repair?"


    I could hear the barely contained glee in his voice. Dashiell ckthorne, heir to the ckthorne Family fortune and my rival for Isabelle''s hand, had been waiting for this moment.


    "My condition is none of your concern," I replied coolly.


    "Oh, but it is!" Heughed. "Our duel is in three months, remember? I''d hate for you to use this convenient ''injury'' as an excuse to back out."


    My grip tightened on the phone. "I''ll be there."


    "Will you?" His tone dripped with mockery. "The videos circting tell a different story. The great Liam Knight, reduced to running away from mere street fighters."


    "Believe what you want," I said. "But in three months, I''ll stand before you. And when I do, you''ll wish I hadn''t."


    A brief silence followed. When Dashiell spoke again, his voice had lost some of its bluster. "Bold words from a crippled man."


    "I''ll see you in three months, Dashiell. Not a dayter."


    I ended the call before he could respond, tossing the phone onto the bed.


    Sofia watched me cautiously. "Master Knight, is it wise to provoke him in your condition?"


    "Probably not," I admitted. "But some battles must be fought, even when victory seems impossible."


    Especially when victory seems impossible.


    ---


    In a secluded mountain valley far from the city, Jackson Harding sat cross-legged on a t stone, his eyes closed in meditation. The legendary cultivator''s presence alone made the surrounding air feel heavy with power.


    "Master," a young disciple approached cautiously. "News has arrived about Liam Knight."


    Jackson Harding opened one eye. "Speak."


    "They say his dantian is damaged. Videos show him retreating from battle, unable to fight back."


    "And what do you make of this news?" Jackson asked, his voice neutral.


    The disciple hesitated. "It seems the rumors of his potential were exaggerated. He rose quickly but fell just as fast."


    Jackson Harding rose to his feet in a single fluid motion. "You disappoint me with such shallow analysis."


    "Master?"


    "Liam Knight stands against a system that has existed for centuries," Jackson said, walking to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley. "He challenges the very foundations of our world, where bloodlines determine destiny and those born without privilege must ept their fate."


    "But if he''s truly injured—"


    "Whether he is injured or not is irrelevant," Jackson interrupted. "What matters is that even now, when the world believes him defeated, he refuses to ept the role assigned to him."


    The disciple frowned. "I don''t understand."


    "You will," Jackson said with certainty. "When this is over, everyone will understand what it means to defy fate itself."


    ---


    Isabelle Ashworth gazed out the window of hervish prison. The Ashworth Estate stretched before her, beautiful gardens and ornate architecture that once represented home but now felt like gilded bars.


    Two servants stood nervously by the door, awaiting hermands but also ensuring she didn''t attempt to leave. Her confinement was elegant but absolute.


    The door swung open without warning. Corbin Ashworth strode in, his imposing figure filling the doorway. Isabelle''s great uncle, current head of the Ashworth Family, regarded her with cold calction.


    "Leave us," hemanded the servants, who hurriedly departed.


    Isabelle didn''t turn to face him. "What do you want, Uncle?"


    "Such disrespect," he tutted, walking further into the room. "I''vee bearing news I thought might interest you."


    "Unless it''s news of my release, I''m not interested."


    Corbin chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "Still holding out hope that your knight in shining armor wille to rescue you? That''s why I''m here, my dear. To put an end to that particr fantasy."


    Now she turned, her face carefullyposed despite the dread building inside her. "What do you mean?" <kbd ss="meta-ref-static">The reference version of this chapter is on *.</kbd>


    "Your precious Liam Knight," Corbin said, savoring each word, "is finished. His dantian is damaged beyond repair. He''s a cripple now, unable to even defend himself."


    Isabelle''s heart hammered in her chest, but she kept her expression neutral. "You''re lying."


    "Why would I need to lie?" Corbin pulled out his phone. "The entire cultivation world is talking about it. See for yourself."


    He handed her the phone. On the screen was a video from The Warrior''s Scroll showing Liam backing away from opponents, his movements desperate and defensive.


    Isabelle watched in growing horror as Liam took hit after hit, barely able to stay on his feet. Beneath the video, hundreds ofments dered the end of his meteoric rise.


    "This proves nothing," she said, handing back the phone despite the trembling in her fingers. "Liam has ovee worse."


    "Not this time," Corbin said with satisfaction. "A damaged dantian is a death sentence for a cultivator. His career is over. His power is gone. And any hope you had of him challenging this family is gone with it."


    Isabelle turned away to hide the tears threatening to fall. "Get out."


    "The wedding preparations with Dashiell continue as scheduled," Corbin continued mercilessly. "In three months, you will be Mrs. ckthorne, and the merger between our families will beplete. It''s time you epted your role in this family, Isabelle."


    "I said get out!" Her voice cracked with emotion.


    Corbin stepped closer, thrusting the phone in front of her face. "Do you see it now? Or do you think I could manipte the entire Martial Arts Forum?"


    The screen showed a close-up of Liam''s face, contorted in pain, blood streaming from a cut above his eye. It was a face she knew intimately, now twisted by agony and defeat.


    For the first time since her confinement began, Isabelle''s hope began to crumble.