The midday sun blinded me as I emerged from the tomb''s exit. Four months underground had left me unustomed to natural light. I squinted, shielding my eyes with one hand while my other unconsciously touched the ring on my finger—heavy with its three forbidden treasures.


    I needed to find the Man with the Mustache. Those corpses inside my spatial ring weren''t ordinary remains; they were Reversion Void Stage cultivators. Even in death, they carried immense power that could leak out and cause problems.


    It took me two days to track him down to histest hideout—a rundown shack on the outskirts of Snowpeak Town. I didn''t bother knocking.


    "Been a while," I said, pushing open the door.


    The Man with the Mustache nearly jumped out of his skin. "Gods above! Don''t you know how to knock?"


    He looked the same as always—unkempt clothes, that ridiculous mustache he was so proud of, and eyes that darted around like a cornered rat''s.


    "You never came back to the tomb," I said tly.


    He fidgeted with a strange-looking artifact on his table. "Yes, well...plications arose. Very serious ones. Life-threatening, actually."


    "You got scared."


    "I prefer the term ''strategically cautious,''" he sniffed, but then his eyes widened as he studied me more carefully. "Your energy... it''s different. Darker. You''ve been absorbing the tomb''s energy, haven''t you?"


    I didn''t deny it. "I need something from you."


    "Of course you do," he sighed dramatically. "No one ever visits just to chat."


    "I need special burial clothes. The kind used for high-level cultivators to suppress their energy after death."


    He froze, his fidgeting hands suddenly still. "What did you do?"


    I held up my spatial ring. "I took souvenirs."


    The color drained from his face. "You didn''t... tell me you didn''t take those corpses!"


    "And the coffin."


    He stumbled backward, knocking over a chair. "Are you insane? Those are Reversion Void Stage cultivators! Even dead, they''re more dangerous than anything you''ve faced!"


    "Which is why I need the burial clothes," I said calmly. "Can you get them or not?"


    He paced frantically, pulling at his mustache. "This is madness! Pure madness! Do you have any idea what kind of energy those corpses could release? They could attract every dark creature within a hundred miles!"


    "I''ve kept them contained so far."


    "Barely! I can feel the energy seeping from your ring!" He pointed usingly at my hand. "It''s like a beacon to anyone sensitive enough to notice!"


    I hadn''t realized that. Perhaps that exined the uneasy looks I''d gotten from certain people on my journey here.


    "So you''ll help me?" I pressed.


    He threw his hands up. "Do I have a choice? If those corpses start leaking energy in earnest, we''re all doomed." He disappeared into a back room, muttering curses about "suicidal alchemists" and "death wishes."


    When he returned, he carried two folded sets of clothes—ck with golden symbols embroidered inplex patterns. They seemed to shimmer slightly, as if not quite solid.


    "These are Shrouds of Containment," he exined, handling them with extreme care. "Ancient artifacts used to contain the residual energy of powerful cultivators after death. They''re extremely rare."


    "How much?" I asked, reaching for my money pouch.


    He barked augh. "Money? You think I''d sell these for money? No, no, my friend. I''m lending them to you. Consider it an investment in my continued existence." He pushed the shrouds into my hands. "Use them immediately. Don''t even wait until you leave town."


    I nodded and summoned the corpses one by one from my spatial ring. Even the Man with the Mustache, for all his bravado, fell silent at the sight of them—perfectly preserved, as if they had died yesterday rather than thousands of years ago. <samp ss="phantom-imprint">K+ee^p* us g^oi&n+g by re.ad@ing on *-.#</samp>


    Working quickly, we dressed the corpses in the shrouds. The effect was immediate. The oppressive aura that had been leaking from my ring vanished, reced by a serene stillness.


    "There," he said, stepping back. "At least now you won''t bring doom upon us all." He squinted at me suspiciously. "What exactly do you n to do with them?"


    "Study them," I answered simply. "Learn from them."


    "Learn what? How to be a perfectly preserved corpse?"


    "Their techniques. Their cultivation methods. The secrets of the Reversion Void Stage."


    He looked at me like I''d grown a second head. "That''s... ambitious."


    "I need to be stronger," I said, my voice hardening as I stored the now-shrouded corpses back into my ring. "The Guild has had Isabelle for four months. I failed to rescue herst time because I wasn''t strong enough."


    The Man with the Mustache''s expression softened slightly. "I''ve heard rumors," he admitted. "The Guild has been showing off new champions—young cultivators with extraordinary powers. They''re saying these warriors fought ise Rostova to a standstill."


    My head snapped up. "ise? The second-ranked martial artist in Veridia?"


    "The same." He nodded grimly. "Three novice cultivators with unnatural growth in their power. And the Guild is boasting they can create more just like them."


    A cold feeling settled in my gut. "They''re using Isabelle''s bloodline."


    "That would be my guess." He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "If they''ve found a way to infuse her bloodline into other cultivators..."


    I didn''t need him to finish the thought. The Guild could create an army of super-powered soldiers. The bnce of power in the entire region would shift overnight.


    "I need to get back to Veridia," I said, already moving toward the door.


    "Wait!" He grabbed something else from his workbench—a small bronze medallion. "Take this. It will help mask your energy signature. With all that dark energy you''ve absorbed, you''ll stick out like a sore thumb otherwise."


    I epted it with a nod of thanks.


    "And Liam?" he called as I reached the door. "Be careful. The Guild isn''t just stronger now—they''re desperate to show their strength. Makes them more dangerous than ever."


    I turned back to him. "So am I."


    ---


    Meanwhile, in the grand hall of the Veridia City Martial Guild, a storm was brewing.


    Corbin Ashworth, current head of the Ashworth family, stormed through the double doors nked by his son Dominic and four family guards. The Guild members parted before him—not out of respect, but wariness. The Ashworth family''s temper was legendary.


    "Where is he?" Corbin demanded, his voice echoing through the hall. "Where is Darian Bancroft?"


    A side door opened, and Darian Bancroft himself emerged—calm,posed, and smiling slightly as if weing an expected guest.


    "Patriarch Ashworth," he said smoothly. "What an unexpected pleasure. What brings you to our humble Guild?"


    "Don''t y coy with me, Bancroft," Corbin snarled. "The whole city is talking about your new champions. Three nobodies who suddenly have the power to challenge ise Rostova?"


    Darian''s smile didn''t falter. "Our training methods have improved dramatically. Surely you''d congratte us on such sess?"


    "Cut the nonsense," Corbin stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Those champions of yours. There are whispers about how they gained their power. Something about... special blood."


    A sh of wariness crossed Darian''s face before his smile returned. "Perhaps we should discuss this in private."


    "No," Corbin insisted. "Here and now. Tell me what you''ve done with my niece''s bloodline."


    A hush fell over the hall. Guild members exchanged ufortable nces. Dominic Ashworth''s face darkened with rage as the implications sank in.


    Darian sighed theatrically. "Very well. It''s hardly a secret anymore." He gestured toward a side chamber. "At leaste see for yourself."


    Reluctantly, Corbin and Dominic followed him into a smaller room where arge crystal orb sat on a pedestal. Darian activated it with a touch, and an image appeared within—Isabelle, pale and thin, connected to various tubes and apparatus that slowly drew blood from her body.


    "Your niece possesses a truly remarkable bloodline," Darian exined, as if discussing the weather. "When properly processed and infused into suitable candidates, it elerates cultivation growth tenfold."


    Corbin''s face flushed red with fury. "You''re using her like a... like a resource!"


    "She is a resource," Darian replied coldly. "The most valuable one the Guild has ever possessed. Thanks to her, we''ll have dozens of champions within the year. Hundreds within a decade."


    Dominic stepped forward, his hand on his sword. "She''s an Ashworth! You had no right—"


    "We had every right," Darian cut him off. "She was condemned as an aplice to Liam Knight''s crimes. Her fate was sealed the moment she chose to stand with him against the Guild."


    "This is outrageous!" Corbin mmed his fist on a nearby table, cracking the wood. "The Ashworth family has supported the Guild for generations. We deserve better than to have our bloodline stolen!"


    Darian regarded him calmly. "Stolen? No. Put to proper use, yes. Michael Ashworth knew of his granddaughter''s potential. Why do you think he favored her so?"


    The question struck Corbin like a physical blow. Michael''s inexplicable preference for Isabelle had always been a source of bitterness for him.


    "He knew?" Corbin whispered.


    "Of course he knew," Darian smiled thinly. "The old man was sharper than you give him credit for. He recognized what she was—a once-in-a-millennium bloodline treasure. He just didn''t live long enough to see her potential realized."


    Dominic stepped forward. "If what you say is true, then the power in her blood belongs to the Ashworth family. We demandpensation."


    Darian''s eyebrows rose slightly. "Compensation?"


    "Yes," Corbin recovered quickly, seeing the angle his son had opened. "If you''re using Ashworth blood to create your champions, then the Ashworth family deserves benefits. Positions of power within the Guild. Resources. Influence."


    A calcting look passed over Darian''s face. "Perhaps we could arrange something."


    "I want to test these champions myself," Dominic suddenly dered. "If they truly gained their power from Ashworth blood, I want to see it firsthand."


    "Dominic—" Corbin began, but Darian was already nodding.


    "Of course. A reasonable request." He pped his hands, and a guild attendant appeared. "Summon Felix Earth-Shaker to the training grounds."


    Dominic''s hand tightened on his sword hilt. "I''ll face him there in one hour."


    After the Ashworths left to prepare, Darian returned to the crystal orb, studying Isabelle''s weakened form. Four months of blood harvesting had taken their toll. She was still conscious, still defiant in her gaze, but physically diminished.


    "Your family has finally realized your worth," he told her image. "Though not in the way you might have hoped."


    ---


    An hourter, the Guild''s private training ground hosted a tense audience. Guild elders lined one side, while Corbin and his entourage upied the other. In the center of the stone arena stood Dominic Ashworth, third-rank Martial Marquis and heir to the Ashworth legacy. Across from him was Felix Earth-Shaker—a boy who couldn''t be older than sixteen, with an innocent face and calm demeanor.


    "This is insulting," Dominic spat. "You send a child to face me?"


    Felix smiled pleasantly. "Age is just a number in the martial world, isn''t it, Sir Ashworth?"


    Dominic drew his sword—a famous heirloom of the Ashworth family that gleamed with power-enhancing formations. "We''ll see about that."


    The match began without further ceremony. Dominicunched forward with impressive speed, his sword describing a perfect arc aimed at Felix''s shoulder—a disabling rather than killing blow.


    Felix didn''t move until thest possible moment. Then, with a casual gesture, he stomped his foot.


    The ground beneath Dominic erupted, sending him flying backward. Before he could recover, stone spikes shot up from the arena floor, forcing him to twist and dodge in mid-air.


    Felix hadn''t even drawn a weapon.


    "Is this sufficient demonstration?" the boy asked politely, his hands sped behind his back.


    Dominic roared with frustration and charged again, this time unleashing his full power. His sword glowed with energy as he executed the Ashworth family''s secret technique—Nine Falling Stars.


    Nine consecutive strikes, each faster than thest, each powerful enough to cleave through stone.


    Felix dodged eight of them with unnatural grace.


    The ninth he caught barehanded, stopping Dominic''s de between his index and middle fingers.


    "Impossible," someone whispered from the sidelines.


    Felix smiled again, looking for all the world like a child who had just performed a clever trick. "The power of the Ashworth bloodline," he said softly, so only Dominic could hear. "Imagine what you could do with it yourself."


    He released the sword and stepped back. "I believe this match is concluded."


    Dominic stood frozen, his confidence shattered. A mere boy had humiliated him with ease. A boy powered by his cousin''s blood.


    Darian approached from the sidelines, smiling broadly. "Impressive, isn''t he? And to think, this is just the beginning of what we can achieve with the Ashworth bloodline."


    Corbin joined them, his face a mask of calction. The demonstration had changed things. What he had initially viewed as an outrage now looked like an opportunity.


    "You mentionedpensation," he said to Darian. "What exactly did you have in mind?"


    Darian''s smile deepened. "Gold? Positions? Those are trivial. No, I''m thinking of something far more valuable." He gestured toward Felix. "What if I told you that members of the Ashworth family could also benefit directly from Isabelle''s gift?"


    Dominic''s head snapped up, his humiliation momentarily forgotten. "What do you mean?"


    Darian ced a hand on Dominic''s shoulder. "You are of the same bloodline, after all. More distant than Isabelle''s direct line, but still connected. With the right process, you too could experience the power boost our champions enjoy."


    "That''s... possible?" Dominic''s voice was barely a whisper.


    "Of course. The process is painful, I won''t lie. But the results..." Darian gestured toward Felix, who was calmly repairing the damaged arena floor with a wave of his hand. "Well, you''ve seen them firsthand."


    Corbin studied Darian through narrowed eyes. "What''s the catch?"


    "No catch. Merely an alliance of interests. The Guild gains the continued use of Isabelle''s bloodline. The Ashworth family gains power beyond their wildest dreams. Everyone wins."


    "Except Isabelle," Dominic muttered.


    Darian shrugged. "She made her choice when she sided with Liam Knight. This is simply the consequence."


    A tense silence followed. Corbin appeared to be weighing his options, while Dominic stared at Felix with naked envy in his eyes.


    Finally, Darian spoke again. "I could arrange for you to undergo the procedure immediately, young Master Ashworth. By tomorrow, you could possess power rivaling our champions."


    "All I would need to do is bathe in my cousin''s blood?" Dominic asked, his voice strange and distant.


    "In essence, yes," Darian confirmed. "The details are moreplex, but that''s the fundamental process."


    Dominic looked to his father, waiting for guidance. Corbin''s face was unreadable, his eyes calcting the potential gains against whatever moral qualms might remain.


    "Well?" Darian pressed. "What do you say?"