Liam''s Perspective


    I leaned against the polished railing of the luxury yacht, watching the sun''s reflection dance across the ocean waves. Evelyn Norton joined me at the railing, her elegant dress fluttering in the sea breeze.


    "Beautiful view, isn''t it?" she remarked, sipping champagne from a crystal flute.


    "It is," I agreed, though my mind was elsewhere. The deadline of September 9th loomed over me like a guillotine. With my injured dantian, I was racing against a clock that showed no mercy.


    "How long until we reach Brightheart Ind?" I asked, trying to sound casual.


    "Half a month, give or take," Evelyn replied.


    My stomach clenched. Half a month at sea meant half a month less to solve my problem. Every passing day weakened my chances of recovery before the deadline.


    "That''s quite a journey," I said, masking my anxiety.


    Dudley Lowell appeared behind us, his footsteps nearly silent on the polished deck. "The distance ensures exclusivity. Only the truly dedicated—or truly desperate—make the trip."


    His eyes studied me with that unsettling intensity. "Speaking of desperation, how is your injury faring, Mr. Knight? A damaged dantian is no small matter."


    "I manage," I replied curtly.


    Dudley smiled. "Of course you do. Though I wonder... what methods have you tried for healing?"


    Before I could answer, Evelyn cut in. "Have you heard about Atticus Kane''s rise to prominence?"


    The sudden change of subject caught me off guard. "Lord Dn? Only rumors."


    "They call him ''Lord Dn'' now, yes," Dudley confirmed. "Quite the transformation for someone who was considered talentless just two years ago."


    My interest piqued. "Talentless to renowned martial artist in two years?"


    "Indeed," Evelyn nodded. "One day he was struggling to advance beyond the most basic level. The next, his power surged dramatically."


    "How?" I pressed, unable to hide my interest. If there was a method to rapidly gain power despite limitations, I needed to know it.


    Dudley shrugged. "That''s the mystery that has everyone talking. Some say he discovered an ancient technique. Others whisper about forbidden methods."


    "Or perhaps," Evelyn added with a meaningful nce, "he simply found the right teacher."


    I filed this information away carefully. Atticus Kane''s situation might hold a key to my own salvation.


    "Speaking of unexpected rises," Evelyn continued, turning to Dudley, "your own story is quite remarkable, Mr. Lowell."


    Dudley''s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "Is it?"


    "Oh, don''t be modest," Evelyn smiled. "Everyone knows the tale. The second son of the Lowell family, once brash and arrogant, pronounced dead after a tragic ident."


    My attention sharpened. This was new information.


    "The Celestial Apothecary Guild themselves dered you beyond saving," Evelyn continued. "Then miraculously, you awoke—changed. More refined. More focused."


    "People mature through hardship," Dudley replied smoothly.


    "To such a degree?" Evelyn challenged. "Within weeks, you went from the family disappointment to the acknowledged heir, surpassing your elder brother."


    I studied Dudley''s face carefully. His polite smile remained fixed, but something flickered in his eyes—annoyance, perhaps, or wariness.


    "Fortune favors the prepared," he said simply.


    But I wasn''t convinced. A near-death experience followed by aplete personality change and sudden sess? It sounded suspiciously like body possession—a forbidden technique I''d read about in ancient texts.


    "If you''ll excuse me," Dudley said, checking an ornate pocket watch, "I have an auction to attend."


    He departed with practiced grace, leaving Evelyn and me alone at the railing.


    "That was revealing," I remarked once he was out of earshot.


    Evelyn smiled. "I''ve found that even the most controlled men reveal themselves when their origin stories are questioned."


    "You don''t trust him."


    "I don''t trust anyone on this ship," she replied candidly. "Including you, Mr. Knight."


    The honesty was refreshing. "At least we understand each other."


    The afternoon passed slowly. I spent time with Michael Ashworth, discussing strategies for when we reached Brightheart Ind. The old man''s insights were valuable, though I could tell the confrontation with Kendrick had drained him.


    As evening fell, Dudley returned to the main deck. He carried a small velvet pouch that he handled with extreme care.


    "Sessful auction?" I inquired as he joined our table.


    "Quite," he replied, loosening the drawstring of the pouch. "Would you like to see my acquisition?"


    He tipped the pouch, and a pearl-like object rolled onto his palm. About the size of a grape, it pulsed with a faint internal light.


    I recognized it immediately. An inner core.


    "Impressive," Imented, keeping my voice neutral despite my racing thoughts. "Grade three?"


    Dudley''s eyebrows rose slightly. "You recognize it. Not many would."


    "I''ve seen simr items," I admitted.


    "Simr, but not identical, I''d wager," Dudley said, rolling the core between his fingers. "Evelyn here consumed one herself, some years ago. Isn''t that right?"


    Evelyn nodded, her eyes fixed on the glowing pearl. "It changed everything for me."


    "Though hers was a special variety," Dudley continued. "A Spirit Core, not a mere inner core. It carried the attributes of the Demonic Beast it came from."


    My pulse quickened. The distinction was significant—and potentially dangerous.


    "Was yours also a Spirit Core, Mr. Knight?" Dudley asked, his eyes suddenly piercing.


    The question hung in the air between us. How did he know I''d consumed an inner core at all? I hadn''t revealed that information. <samp ss="meta-ref-static">First published on *.</samp>


    "Yes," I finally admitted, seeing no benefit in lying. "It was."


    For a split second, something shed across Dudley''s face. His pupils contracted, and his expression shifted with a meaning I couldn''t quite interpret. It was gone in an instant, reced by his usualposed smile.


    "Fascinating," he murmured, returning the core to its pouch. "Truly fascinating."


    The conversation moved to other topics, but I couldn''t shake the feeling that something significant had just urred. Dudley knew more than he was saying—about Spirit Cores, about me, perhaps even about my injured dantian.


    As night fell over the ocean, I stood alone on the deck, watching stars appear in the darkening sky. Half a month at sea. Half a month closer to my deadline.


    And now, a new puzzle: what did Dudley Lowell know about Spirit Cores that made my admission so interesting to him?


    I thought of Atticus Kane''s mysterious power surge and Dudley''s own unexined "recovery." Were these connected somehow? And more importantly, could understanding that connection help me heal my dantian before time ran out?


    The sea wind carried whispers across the deck—secrets and schemes floating just beyond my grasp. Somewhere in those whispersy answers I desperately needed.


    And I was running out of time to find them.