Liam''s Perspective


    I stood in the center of the devastated tform, my eyes locked on Dudley Lowell''s pathetic form. The Four Symbols Demonic Seal I''d just formed between my palms wasn''t perfect, but it had served its purpose.


    "I don''t. I just learned it from you. But whether it works or not, I don''t know yet..."


    Dudley''s eyes widened with terror. "You''re bluffing. No one can learn—"


    I cut him off by thrusting my palms forward. Golden light erupted from my hands, engulfing the ck energy symbols. The turtle, dragon, phoenix, and tiger transformed from pitch ck to brilliant gold.


    "Let''s find out," I said coolly.


    The golden symbols spun faster, merging into a blinding vortex. Even I was surprised by the raw power surging from my improvised technique. This wasn''t just a bluff anymore.


    Dudley scrambled backward. "No! Wait!"


    Toote. The golden vortex shot toward him with devastating speed.


    Panic shed across his face. He fumbled in his robes, pulling out three jade pendants. He crushed them in rapid session, each shattering into dust as protective barriers formed and immediately shattered around him.


    "Emergency talismans," Jackson Harding''s voice carried from the distance. "Rare and expensive. He''s burning through a fortune to save himself."


    Dudley''s hand trembled as he withdrew a y pot from his spatial ring. The unassuming vessel radiated ancient power. He hurled it into the path of my golden seal.


    The pot expanded, bing a shield of swirling energy. My technique mmed into it with a thunderous boom.


    Light exploded outward. Spectators shielded their eyes. The ground beneath us split open in jagged cracks. For a moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.


    When the light faded, Dudley stood shaking inside a dome of fading energy. The y poty shattered at his feet. <i ss="phantom-imprint">F%i+r@s&t p!ub*li!she%d# on *#.</i>


    "The Ancestral Earth Vessel," he whispered, staring at the broken pieces. "A family heirloom that survived twelve generations..."


    I took a step forward. My technique wasn''t perfect—there was a ripple in the energy where the seal hadn''t fully closed. A small dark tear had formed in the air behind Dudley, like a miniature ck hole.


    "Your precious vessel didn''t quite hold," I said.


    Dudley noticed the spatial tear behind him. His eyes darted between it and me, desperate calction evident on his face.


    "This isn''t over, Knight!" he snarled.


    Before I could reach him, he dove backward into the tear. It closed instantly behind him, leaving nothing but empty air.


    I mmed my fist into the ground in frustration. The tform cracked further, splitting into sections that tilted at odd angles.


    "Damn it!"


    Whispers erupted from the spectators.


    "Did you see that?"


    "He learned Dudley''s signature technique on the spot!"


    "He forced a half-step Martial Marquis to flee!"


    I straightened and let my golden aura fade. My muscles screamed in protest. Blood dripped from countless wounds. Improvising that technique had cost me dearly. But the results were worth it.


    Jackson Harding approached, his weathered face unreadable. "Not many can im to have driven Dudley Lowell to such desperate measures."


    I wiped blood from my chin. "He got away."


    "Yes." Jackson nodded thoughtfully. "Through a spatial tear created by your imperfect seal. Most impressive for a first attempt."


    The crowd had grown silent, watching our exchange with rapt attention.


    "What will you do now?" Jackson asked. "The Lowell family won''t forgive this humiliation."


    I turned to face the gathered martial artists, alchemists, and sect representatives. My voice carried across the arena.


    "I''m establishing my own sect."


    Murmurs rippled through the crowd.


    "Any who wish to join will receive resources beyond what the established sects offer. Within a year, I guarantee advancement to Grandmaster for those with sufficient talent."


    The murmurs grew louder. Such a promise was outrageous—yet after what they''d witnessed, many were considering it.


    "And what will you name this sect of yours?" a voice called out.


    "Jade Moon Vi," I replied without hesitation.


    Several people stepped forward immediately, while others hung back, uncertainty evident on their faces.


    "Consider carefully," I warned them. "My enemies are powerful. Joining me means making those enemies yours."


    A few retreated at this, but more stepped forward. Word of my victory was already spreading.


    Jackson Harding watched with thinly veiled amusement. "Bold move, young Knight."


    "Bold moves are all I have left," I replied quietly.


    ---


    Dudley Lowell crashed heavily onto stone flooring, blood spraying from his mouth. The spatial tear had spat him out in his private chambers at the Lowell familypound.


    He wed his way to a sitting position, leaning against the wall. His fine robes hung in tatters. Blood matted his hair. His face, once handsome and arrogant, was swollen with bruises.


    "Servants!" he croaked.


    No one came. He''d ordered everyone away before departing for the duel, confident in his victory.


    "SERVANTS!" he screamed, his voice breaking.


    Footsteps finally rushed down the hall. The door burst open, revealing shocked attendants.


    "Master Lowell! What happened?"


    "Prepare my recovery chamber," he snarled. "And bring me the Blood Phoenix Pill."


    The servants scattered to obey. Dudley dragged himself to a mirror, flinching at his reflection. His cultivation had been severely damaged. The meridians in his chest were shattered. Worst of all, his pride had been obliterated.


    "Knight," he whispered, hatred burning in his eyes. "I''ll take everything from you. Your powers, your woman, your life."


    His fingers clenched into a trembling fist. "This humiliation will be repaid a thousandfold."


    ---


    News of my victory spread like wildfire across The Warrior''s Scroll, the martial world''s premier informationwork.


    "BREAKING: Liam Knight defeats Dudley Lowell in shocking upset!"


    "Grandmaster humiliates half-step Martial Marquis—learns opponent''s technique mid-battle!"


    "New sect forming: Jade Moon Vi promises unprecedented resources!"


    In a luxurious mansion in Veridia City, Dashiell ckthorne hurled a jade tablet against the wall, shattering it into pieces.


    "Impossible!" he roared.


    His attendant cowered in the doorway. "Young Master, the reports have been confirmed by multiple sources."


    Dashiell paced like a caged tiger. "If Knight can defeat Dudley Lowell, he''s progressing too quickly."


    He stopped suddenly, eyes narrowing with determination.


    "Inform my father I''ll be entering closed-door cultivation. I need to break through to Martial Marquis immediately."


    "But Young Master, rushing cultivation can lead to—"


    "I don''t care about the risks! Do you think I can afford to fall behind now? Knight is bing too powerful too quickly."


    The attendant bowed and retreated, leaving Dashiell to stare out the window toward the distant mountains where the duel had taken ce.


    ---


    In another wing of the ckthorne estate, Roderick ckthorne read the same reports with cold calction.


    "So Knight has defeated Dudley," he murmured. "And now seeks to establish his own power base."


    His advisor cleared his throat nervously. "The announcements state he''s offering unprecedented resources. He may attract significant talent."


    Roderick waved a dismissive hand. "Let him. Building a sect requires more than resources. It requires time—something I don''t intend to give him."


    He turned to a map of the surrounding territories. "We must ensure the Martial Guild denies him any official recognition. Without it, his sect will remain an ouw organization."


    "And the girl? Isabelle Ashworth?"


    Roderick''s expression darkened. "She remains our primary target. Double the efforts to locate her."


    ---


    In the Ashworth familypound, Corbin Ashworth''s military advisor watched a holographic projection of my battle with Dudley Lowell. He paused the image at the moment the golden seal erupted from my hands.


    "Interesting," he said to himself, eyes narrowed with professional assessment. "Very interesting indeed."


    His fingers tapped aplex pattern on the projection device. The image changed, showing close-ups of my technique from multiple angles.


    The advisor''s lips curved into a thin smile as he reached for amunication device.


    "Sir," he said when Corbin Ashworth answered, "I believe we have much to discuss about Liam Knight."