My crimson de whistled through the air as I brought it down with devastating force. The spiritual energy I channeled through it created a visible arc of blinding light.


    "Heavenly Guillotine!" I announced coldly.


    Braydon and Brock barely had time to raise their arms in a futile defensive stance before my attack connected. The sword cleaved through their pathetic defense like it was nothing more than paper.


    The impact of my strike didn''t just cut through the brothers. It split the entire bar counter behind them clean in two, sending liquor bottles crashing to the floor in a cascade of shattered ss and spilled alcohol.


    Blood sprayed across the room as both men copsed to their knees, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. They weren''t dead—not yet. I''d deliberately aimed to wound rather than kill. I wanted answers first.


    "Impossible," Braydon gasped, clutching the gaping wound across his chest. "You can''t be... this powerful..."


    I stood over them, my ck robe billowing slightly from the residual energy of my attack. The crimson sword in my hand hummed with satisfaction, eager for more blood.


    "Where is Isabelle?" I demanded, pressing the tip of my de against Brock''s throat.


    "We don''t know!" he whimpered, blood bubbling from his lips. "Only the inner circle has ess to her. We just follow orders!"


    I studied his face, searching for lies. Finding none, I withdrew my sword slightly. "Who gives those orders?"


    "Bancroft," Braydon wheezed. "And ckthorne. They oversee the program personally."


    Just as I suspected. The confirmation made my blood boil. Darian Bancroft and Dashiell ckthorne—the two men I hated most in this world.


    "What about Dominic Ashworth? What''s his role?"


    "Security," Brock answered quickly, desperate to appease me. "He''s in charge of security protocols for the facility."


    So Isabelle''s own uncle was directly involved in her captivity. The betrayal ran deep in the Ashworth family. My grip tightened around the sword''s hilt.


    "Please," Braydon begged, his voice growing weaker. "We were just following orders. We have families..."


    "Did you think about Isabelle''s family when you were bleeding her like livestock?" I asked, my voice deadly quiet. "Did you consider mercy when you called her a ''resource''?"


    Both men fell silent, terror etched across their faces.


    I realized we weren''t alone anymore. The few patrons who hadn''t fled were huddled in corners, watching the scene unfold with horrified fascination. Witnesses to my vengeance. Perfect.


    "I want you to deliver a message," I said, my voice carrying throughout the now-silent lounge. "But first, you should know who''s sending it."


    With deliberate slowness, I reached up and pulled back the hood of my ck robe. Then I removed the mask covering the lower half of my face, revealing my identity to the dying men before me.


    "Remember this face," I said coldly. "I am Liam Knight."


    Recognition dawned in their eyes, followed by utter disbelief.


    "Knight?" Brock whispered. "But you''re... you can''t be..."


    "A mere Third-Circle cultivator?" I finished for him. "Is that what the Guild told you? That I was some insignificant martial artist who got lucky once?"


    I couldn''t help the cruel smile that formed on my lips. "As you can see, they were wrong."


    "You''re our age," Braydon managed, blood continuing to leak from his wounds. "How could you possibly..."


    "Defeat three Martial Marquises without breaking a sweat?" Iughed bitterly. "Because unlike you privileged dogs who had everything handed to you, I had to fight for every scrap of power I possess."


    I looked around at the witnesses, making sure they heard every word. "Tell the Guild that Liam Knight has returned. Tell them I''ming for Isabelle Ashworth. And anyone who stands in my way will end up like the Yates brothers."


    With a swift motion, I plunged my crimson sword through Braydon''s heart. His eyes widened for a moment before the light faded from them. I withdrew the de and did the same to Brock, ending his suffering with brutal efficiency.


    The deed done, I cleaned my de on Brecken''s robe and returned it to my spatial ring. The three bodies of the once-feared Yates brothersy sprawled across the destroyed lounge—a message written in blood for the Veridia City Martial Guild.


    "Remember what you saw here today," I told the remaining witnesses before pulling my hood back up and recing my mask. "The reckoning has begun."


    Without another word, I activated my Phantom Step technique and vanished from the scene, leaving only corpses and whispers behind.


    ---


    By morning, news of the massacre had spread throughout Veridia City like wildfire. I watched from a rooftop as people gathered in small clusters on the streets below, trading rumors and fearful nces.


    "Three Martial Marquises killed in seconds..."


    "They say it was a ck-robed demon..."


    "The Yates brothers were elite Guild enforcers!"


    The rumors grew more oundish with each retelling, but the fear was real. That was good. Fear would make the Guild desperate. Desperation would make them careless.


    I pulled my jade pendant from beneath my shirt, feeling itsforting warmth against my palm. "I''m getting closer, Isabelle," I whispered. "Hold on a little longer."


    ---


    At the Veridia City Martial Guild headquarters, chaos reigned. I wasn''t there to witness it, but I could picture the scene clearly: Darian Bancroft, Guild Master and tyrant, pacing his opulent office like a caged tiger.


    And I was right.


    Darian Bancroft mmed his fist against his mahogany desk, cracking the expensive wood. "How is this possible?" he roared. "Three of our best enforcers, ughtered likemon thugs?"


    Before him stood Dominic Ashworth, looking distinctly ufortable. "The witnesses all say the same thing. A man in a ck robe wielding a crimson sword killed them with minimal effort."


    "What rank?" Bancroft demanded.


    Dominic hesitated. "Based on the descriptions of his spiritual energy output... at least Fourth-rank Martial Marquis, possibly higher."


    "Impossible!" Bancroft spat. "There are fewer than ten cultivators of that rank in the entire region, and we know all of them."


    "Apparently not all of them," Dominic replied cautiously. "The witnesses also mentioned something else. The killer... revealed his face before disappearing."


    Bancroft narrowed his eyes. "And?"


    "He imed to be Liam Knight."


    The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Bancroft''s face contorted with rage and disbelief.


    "Knight is dead," he hissed. "We confirmed it months ago."


    "Evidently, we were mistaken," Dominic said. "No ordinary impersonator could kill three Marquises with a single strike."


    Bancroft turned to the window, staring out at the city below. "Knight was a Third-Circle cultivator when west encountered him. Even with exceptional talent, it''s impossible to advance to Fourth-rank Marquis in just a few months."


    "Unless he was hiding his true abilities all along," Dominic suggested. "Or found some external source of power."


    Emerson Holmes, who had been silently observing from the corner, finally spoke up. "I''ve always said we underestimated him."


    Both men turned to look at the intelligence officer, whose face had gone unnaturally pale.


    "You saw him fight at the wedding," Emerson continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "He defeated Dashiell ckthorne, who was a Second-rank Martial Marquis. Even then, he didn''t seem to be exerting himself fully."


    Dominic frowned. "What are you suggesting, Holmes?"


    "I''m suggesting," Emerson said carefully, "that Liam Knight may have been one of the most talented cultivators of our generation all along. And now we''ve given him every reason to destroy us."


    The room fell silent as the implications sank in. Dominic''s hand drifted unconsciously to his sword hilt.


    "He''sing for his woman," Bancroft finally said. "We need to increase security around the facility immediately."


    "Already done," Dominic assured him. "I''ve tripled the guards and added additional formation barriers."


    "It won''t be enough," Emerson muttered, drawing sharp looks from both men.


    "What did you say?" Bancroft demanded.


    Emerson swallowed hard, remembering the terrifying ease with which Liam had dispatched trained killers at Isabelle''s wedding. If he had grown even stronger since then... <b ss="in-imprint-a">Always read at the source—*.</b>


    "I said we should consider moving the subject to a more secure location," he amended quickly. "The current facility might bepromised."


    Before Bancroft could respond, a sharp knock came at the door. A junior Guild member entered, carrying a file.


    "Sir, the intelligence division haspleted their preliminary report onst night''s incident," the young man said, cing the folder on what remained of Bancroft''s desk.


    Bancroft snatched up the file and flipped it open. His eyes scanned the contents rapidly, his expression growing darker with each page he turned.


    "Leave us," he ordered the messenger, who bowed hastily and retreated.


    When the door closed, Bancroft looked up at Dominic and Emerson, his face a mask of cold fury.


    "It seems our intelligence confirms what the witnesses reported," he said, tapping the file. "The assassin matches Liam Knight''s description perfectly. Furthermore, the crimson sword he wielded appears to be an ancient artifact thought lost for centuries—the Blood Drinker."


    Dominic''s eyes widened. "The legendary weapon that grows stronger with each kill? That''s impossible."


    "Apparently not," Bancroft replied grimly. "We have a rogue Martial Marquis armed with one of the most dangerous weapons in existence, targeting our organization specifically."


    He turned to Emerson. "Mobilize every avable enforcer. I want Knight found and eliminated before sunrise tomorrow."


    Emerson nodded stiffly, but his eyes betrayed his doubt. Could they really stop someone who had in three Marquises without breaking a sweat?


    As Bancroft dismissed them, Dominic lingered behind.


    "There''s something else you should know," he said quietly. "My sources tell me Knight has been seen in thepany of Mariana Valerius recently."


    Bancroft froze. "The Pavilion Master of the Celestial Apothecary Guild?"


    Dominic nodded. "If she''s backing him..."


    "Then we have a much bigger problem than one rogue cultivator," Bancroft finished, his expression grim. "Prepare for war, Dominic. It seems Liam Knight has forced our hand."


    As Dominic left the room, Bancroft returned to the window, gazing out at the city that had been firmly under Guild control for generations. For the first time in decades, he felt something he''d nearly forgotten.


    Fear.