I stumbled through the dark alleyways of Veridia City, my breathing in ragged gasps. The golden light of my Saintly Body Skill had dimmed to a faint glow beneath my skin. Each step sent waves of pain through my body. The battle with the Guild''s elite assassins had depleted more of my spiritual energy than I''d anticipated.


    The distant sound of rms still echoed through the night. They were hunting me.


    "Damn it," I muttered, leaning against a wall to catch my breath.


    My knuckles were raw and bloody. The Absolute Beginning Sacred Fist had taken its toll on my body. Even with the Saintly Body Skill''s protection, shattering the ck Gold Stone armor of seven elite assassins had pushed me to my limits.


    I needed somewhere to recover, but nowhere in Veridia City was safe. The Guild had eyes everywhere.


    A sharp pain shot through my side as I pushed myself off the wall. Looking down, I noticed blood seeping through my ck robe. One of the assassins must havended a deeper cut than I realized.


    "Just a little further," I whispered to myself.


    The safehouse arranged by Mariana Valerius was still three blocks away. If I could reach it, I could patch myself up and n my next move. Isabelle was still being held somewhere in the Guild''s headquarters, and time was running out.


    The sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. More Guild members. I could sense at least four of them approaching rapidly from the main street.


    With gritted teeth, I forced my battered body into motion. I couldn''t fight another battle in this condition. I needed to disappear.


    The footsteps grew louder. I ducked into a narrow passageway between two buildings, pressing my back against the cold stone. My heart hammered in my chest as the Guild members passed by the alley entrance.


    "Spread out! President Bancroft wants the intruder found before dawn!"


    President Bancroft, not President Bat. So the leader of these hunters reported directly to the Guild President himself. The realization sent a chill down my spine. They were taking this seriously.


    I waited until their footsteps faded before continuing my journey through the shadows. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, but I forced myself to keep moving. Isabelle''s life depended on it.


    Just as I rounded the corner of the final block, a blinding light erupted before me. I raised my arm to shield my eyes, immediately dropping into a defensive stance despite my exhaustion.


    "There he is!" a voice shouted. "The ck-robed cultivator!"


    Through narrowed eyes, I counted at least twelve Guild members blocking my path. Among them stood a tall figure holding what appeared to be a golden bowl. The artifact gleamed with an unnatural light, illuminating the entire street.


    "Surrender now," the tall figuremanded. "You cannot escape the Golden Bowl''s light."


    I recognized the artifact from ancient texts. The Golden Bowl of Containment—a legendary item capable of trapping even the most powerful cultivators within its boundary. They''d brought out a true treasure to capture me.


    "I have no quarrel with you," I said, my voice steady despite my exhaustion. "Step aside."


    The tall figureughed. "No quarrel? After ughtering our brothers? The Guild does not forget such insults."


    "I didn''t kill them," I replied. "Check your reports."


    "Beaten to the brink of death, their cultivation damaged beyond repair. Some fates are worse than death." The figure raised the Golden Bowl higher. "Now you will face judgment."


    I assessed my options quickly. My spiritual energy was dangerously low. The Saintly Body Skill had nearly reached its limit. Fighting twelve fresh opponents plus whoever wielded the Golden Bowl would be suicide.


    But surrender wasn''t an option. Not with Isabelle still captive.


    "Last chance," the figure warned. "Submit or be taken by force."


    I responded by gathering what little spiritual energy I had left into my fist. The golden light red briefly, illuminating my face.


    The Guild members gasped in unison. "It can''t be—"


    "The Azure Heaven Sword Technique user with the golden fist!"


    I didn''t wait for them to recover from their shock. With thest of my strength, I activated Shrinking Ground Into An Inch, vanishing from their sight only to reappear directly before the bowl-bearer.


    His eyes widened in surprise as my fist connected with his chest. "Absolute Beginning Sacred Fist!"


    The impact sent him flying backward, the Golden Bowl slipping from his grasp. I lunged for the artifact, catching it before it hit the ground. The moment my fingers touched its surface, I felt its power trying to ensnare me.


    Golden tendrils of energy wrapped around my arms, attempting to pull my spirit into the bowl''s depths. The artifact was designed to capture and contain cultivators, trapping them within its confines until they were brought before the Guild''s judgment hall.


    I struggled against its pull, pouring what little energy I had left into resisting its power. The Guild members surged forward, sensing my vulnerability.


    "He''s weakening! The bowl is draining him!"


    "Secure him now!"


    Desperation fueled my resistance. With a roar that tore from my throat, I channeled everyst bit of my spiritual energy into my arms. The golden light of the Saintly Body Skill red brilliantly as I squeezed the Golden Bowl between my hands.


    "Impossible!" someone shouted as a small dent appeared in the supposedly indestructible artifact.


    But it wasn''t enough. The bowl''s power continued to pull at me, draining what little strength I had left. In moments, I would bepletely at their mercy.


    With my remaining consciousness, I reached into my spatial ring and summoned my bronze sword. The familiar weight materialized in my hand, its ancient power resonating with my dwindling energy.


    "Nine shes of the Azure Heaven—Third sh!"


    The sword moved with impossible speed, tracing a perfect arc through the air. When it connected with the Golden Bowl, there was a moment of resistance—then a sound like shattering ss filled the night air.


    The Golden Bowl split cleanly in two, its golden light extinguished in an instant. The release of energy sent a shockwave through the street, knocking the Guild members off their feet.


    I stood swaying, my sword hanging limply from my hand. The destruction of the ancient artifact had cost me thest of my strength. Darkness crept at the edges of my vision as I fought to remain conscious.


    The Guild members stared in shocked silence at the broken halves of their treasured artifact. No one had ever destroyed the Golden Bowl before.


    "Who are you?" one of them whispered, fear evident in his voice.


    I didn''t answer. Instead, I gathered the final dregs of my spiritual energy and activated Shrinking Ground Into An Inch onest time. The world blurred around me as I vanished from their sight, reappearing several streets away.


    My knees buckled the moment I materialized. I copsed against a wall, my breathing in short gasps. The sword slipped from my fingers, ttering to the ground. I barely had the presence of mind to return it to my spatial ring before darkness overtook mepletely.


    ---


    "He broke the Golden Bowl? That''s impossible!"


    President Darian Bancroft''s voice echoed through the grand hall of the Veridia City Martial Guild headquarters. The tall figure who had wielded the now-destroyed artifact knelt before him, head bowed in shame.


    "It is true, President. I saw it with my own eyes. His sword technique cleaved it in two as if it weremon pottery."


    Bancroft paced the length of the marble floor, his expensive robes swishing with each step. "The Golden Bowl has contained Martial Marquises for centuries. No mere sword cultivator should have the power to break it."


    "He''s no mere sword cultivator," another Guild member spoke up. "His physical strength rivals his sword technique. He fights with golden fists that can shatter our ck Gold Stone armor."


    "Golden fists and a sword technique," Bancroft mused, stroking his beard. "Could he be the master of that troublemaker Liam Knight? The one who taught him the Azure Heaven Sword Technique?"


    A small, hunched figure stepped out from the shadows at the edge of the hall. Emerson Holmes, once a respected member of the Guild''s inner circle, now reduced to a trembling informant after his disgrace.


    "P-President Bancroft," Emerson stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper.


    Bancroft turned his cold eyes toward the disgraced man. "Speak, Holmes. If you have information about this mysterious cultivator, now is the time to share it."


    Emerson wrung his hands nervously, his eyes darting around the hall as if seeking escape. "My daughter... is she still..."


    "Your daughter remains under our protection," Bancroft said smoothly. "Her continued well-being depends entirely on your cooperation."


    Tears formed in Emerson''s eyes. The Guild''s idea of "protection" was nothing more than thinly veiled imprisonment. But what choice did he have? They held his only child.


    "The ck-robed man," Emerson began, his voice shaking. "I''ve seen him fight before."


    "Go on," Bancroft urged, suddenly more interested.


    "His technique—thebination of sword and fist—it''s unique. I''ve only seen it once before."


    The hall grew quiet as all eyes turned to Emerson. Even the kneeling Guild members raised their heads to listen.


    "Where?" Bancroft demanded.


    Emerson closed his eyes, as if the admission caused him physical pain. "In the tournament. When Liam Knight defeated my son."


    Murmurs erupted throughout the hall. Bancroft silenced them with a raised hand.


    "That''s impossible. Liam Knight is dead," he stated tly. "Our intelligence confirmed it weeks ago."


    "The intelligence was wrong," Emerson whispered. "I suspected it when I first heard the reports, but I didn''t want to believe it. I thought perhaps it was his mastering to avenge him."


    Bancroft''s face darkened. "Are you suggesting that we''ve been hunting a ghost? That our intelligence division provided false information?" <var ss="meta-ref-static">Help us out by reading on *.</var>


    "Not false," Emerson quickly rified. "Liam Knight is skilled at deception. He must have fabricated his own death to move freely while nning his attack on the Guild."


    The implications settled over the room like a heavy shroud. If Liam Knight was alive and possessed such power—power to destroy artifacts thought indestructible—then the threat was far greater than anyone had anticipated.


    Bancroft walked slowly to his ornate chair at the head of the hall, his mind racing through possibilities. "If what you say is true, Holmes, then our situation is more precarious than I thought. Knight ising for the Ashworth girl."


    "Yes," Emerson agreed miserably. "And nothing will stop him."


    Bancroft''s eyes narrowed dangerously. "You seem quite certain of his capabilities."


    "I''ve seen what he can do," Emerson replied, his voice hollow with defeat. "And now he''s even stronger."


    The Guild President sat in contemtive silence for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was cold and calcted.


    "We must elerate the extraction process. Double the team working on the Ashworth girl. If Knight wants her back so badly, let him have what''s left when we''re done."


    Emerson felt sick at the implication. He had seen the "extraction" rooms—sterile chambers where cultivators were drained of their essence until nothing remained but empty husks.


    "And what of Knight himself?" one of the Guild members asked.


    "Prepare the Hunting Legion," Bancroft ordered. "I want every avable member mobilized by dawn. Set up checkpoints at all major intersections. No one enters or leaves Veridia City without our knowledge."


    The Guild members bowed in acknowledgment, but Emerson could see the fear in their eyes. They had witnessed what happened to their elite brothers who confronted Knight. The Hunting Legion might slow him down, but it wouldn''t stop him.


    As the others filed out to execute their orders, Bancroft beckoned Emerson closer.


    "You''ve been holding something back," he used, his voice dangerously soft. "What else do you know about Liam Knight?"


    Emerson swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. There was no escaping this interrogation, not with his daughter''s life hanging in the bnce.


    "P-President Bancroft," he stammered, his voice trembling with the weight of his revtion, "that ck-robed man is not Liam Knight''s master. He...he is Liam Knight!"