## Liam''s Perspective


    The golden light surrounding my body flickered. My moment of triumph was fading fast. The power that had coursed through me just minutes ago was draining away, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion I could barely fight.


    "As promised, I''m taking Isabelle with me today," I announced, my hand still holding hers.


    Corbin Ashworth stepped forward. His eyes were cold, calcting.


    "Promised? By whom exactly?" he asked, his lips curling into a mocking smile.


    "By Dashiell. The terms of the duel were clear," I replied, fighting to keep my voice steady as pain began to radiate through my muscles.


    Corbinughed. A harsh, unpleasant sound. "Dashiell made that promise. Not me."


    My heart sank. I should have known better than to trust in honor among these people.


    "The duel was sanctioned by all present," I argued. "Michael Ashworth himself acknowledged the oue."


    "My father recognizes the oue of the duel, yes." Corbin''s smile widened. "But he has no authority over who Isabelle marries. I do." Brought<i ss="node-sep"></i>to<i ss="node-sep"></i>you<i ss="node-sep"></i>by<i ss="node-sep"></i>*.


    Isabelle''s hand tightened around mine. "Uncle, you can''t—"


    "Silence!" Corbin snapped. "You''ve embarrassed this family enough."


    Thest traces of golden light vanished from my skin. The chaotic energy that had sustained me through the fight was gone, leaving me hollow. Each heartbeat sent waves of agony through my body.


    Corbin must have noticed my deteriorating condition. His eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction.


    "Not feeling so invincible now, are you, Knight?" He snapped his fingers.


    Armed men emerged from the shadows of the courtyard. Dozens of them, surrounding us in a tightening circle.


    "You see, while Dashiell may have underestimated you, I didn''t." Corbin gestured casually. "I anticipated you might somehow survive. So I prepared ordingly."


    Eight figures pushed through the armed guards. Martial Artists, all of them. I recognized their auras immediately. Their power signatures were at least Knight rank, some possibly higher.


    "Uncle, this is dishonorable!" Isabelle protested. "He won fairly!"


    "Fair?" Corbin sneered. "There''s nothing fair about amoner trying to take what belongs to the Ashworth family. You are our bloodline, our legacy."


    The pain in my body was bing unbearable. My temporary ascension had extracted a heavy price. I struggled to remain standing.


    "You never intended to honor the oue," I said through gritted teeth.


    "Of course not." Corbin didn''t even bother denying it. "Did you really think I''d let you walk away with the Ashworth heir because you won a single fight?"


    Three more figures stepped forward from the edge of the courtyard. Their robes marked them as members of the Veridia City Martial Guild. Their cold eyes assessed me like I was an insect to be crushed.


    "Eleven Martial Artists?" I managed a weakugh despite the pain. "All this for me? I''m ttered."


    My knees buckled. I caught myself before fallingpletely, but barely. The crowd watched in silence, none willing to intervene.


    "Take Isabelle," Corbin ordered one of his guards. "And kill Knight. Make it painful."


    "No!" Isabelle tried to shield me with her body. "I won''t let you!"


    Two guards grabbed her arms, pulling her away from me despite her struggles.


    I tried to summon any remaining power. Nothing. My body was spent.


    "If I die today," I said, raising my head to look Corbin directly in the eyes, "know this: I will find a way back to haunt you for the rest of your miserable life."


    Corbinughed. "Bold words from a dead man."


    One of the Martial Artists stepped forward, energy glowing around his fist. "Allow me the honor, Lord Ashworth."


    I struggled to my feet onest time. If I was going to die, it wouldn''t be on my knees.


    The Martial Artistunched forward, his fist aimed at my heart.


    A streak of purple light shed across the courtyard. The attacking Martial Artist was thrown backward, his chest smoking from a burn mark.


    "That''s quite enough," a familiar feminine voice called out.


    All heads turned. Standing at the edge of the courtyard was Mariana Valerius, Pavilion Master of the Celestial Apothecary Guild. Purple mes danced around her fingertips.


    "Pavilion Master Valerius," Corbin sputtered. "This is a family matter—"


    "Is it?" Mariana''s eyes were hard. "It looks more like eleven Martial Artists against one exhausted man who just fought honorably."


    The Martial Artists exchanged uncertain nces.


    "This doesn''t concern the Celestial Apothecary Guild," one of the Veridia City Martial Guild members said coldly.


    "Liam Knight is under my protection," Mariana stated calmly. "That makes it very much my concern."


    My vision was blurring. The pain had be almost unbearable. But Mariana''s unexpected intervention gave me hope.


    The eleven Martial Artists spread out, theirbined auras creating a crushing pressure in the courtyard.


    "Even you cannot stand against all of us, Pavilion Master," one of them sneered.


    "She doesn''t have to stand alone," another voice announced.


    A massive pressure descended on the courtyard. The air itself seemed to grow heavy, making it difficult to breathe. Several of the weaker guards dropped to their knees.


    An elderly man with a long white beard walked slowly into view. His simple robes couldn''t hide the tremendous power radiating from him.


    Gasps erupted from the crowd.


    "Jackson Harding," someone whispered in awe.


    The legendary recluse. One of the most powerful cultivators alive. And he was here.


    "Master Harding," Corbin''s face had gone pale. "This... this is unexpected."


    Jackson Harding''s eyes swept over the scene before settling on me. "I''ve been watching this young man for some time. Interesting potential."


    I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Jackson Harding had been watching me?


    "Today," Jackson continued, his voice deceptively mild, "I will definitely take this person away. If anyone doesn''t ept it, feel free to make a move."


    The eleven Martial Artists froze, caught between Corbin''s orders and the prospect of facing a legend. The tension in the courtyard became suffocating.


    Corbin''s face twisted with rage and fear. He''d been outmaneuvered, and he knew it.


    Every eye in the courtyard was fixed on Jackson Harding, waiting to see what would happen next.