I awoke to the sensation of rough hands checking my pulse. My body felt like lead, and pain radiated from my back in waves that made breathing difficult. When I managed to force my eyes open, I found myself lying face-down on a wooden table, my shirt removed to expose my mangled back.


    "You should be dead," a gruff voice observed.


    Turning my head slightly, I caught sight of Ignazio Bellweather examining the wound where Bancroft''s Prajna Ruler had split my flesh to the bone. His weathered face revealed nothing as he prodded the edges of the injury.


    "So I''ve been told," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.


    "Three inches deeper and it would have severed your spinepletely." He walked away to a nearby basin, washing blood from his hands. "As it stands, the weapon cut through multiple vertebrae. The fact that you can still move at all is... unusual."


    I tried to push myself up but copsed back onto the table when white-hot agony shot through my entire body.


    "Don''t be stupid," Bellweather grunted. "I''ve temporarily sealed the wound, but even breathing wrong could reopen it."


    "How long was I unconscious?" I asked.


    "Almost a full day." He dried his hands on a coarse towel. "Your body was in shock. Most men would have died from blood loss alone."


    I let that sink in. A full day lost. The Guild would be tightening their around the city, hunting for me with every resource at their disposal. And Isabelle remained in their clutches, possibly suffering for my actions.


    "So," I said carefully, "have you considered my offer?"


    Bellweather''s eyes narrowed. He pulled up a wooden stool and sat beside the table, studying me with the clinical interest of a butcher assessing a carcass.


    "I''ve known three wielders of the Chaotic Body in my lifetime," he said after a moment. "All of them died before reaching Martial Marquis rank. The conflict between opposing energies eventually tore them apart from the inside."


    I met his gaze steadily. "I''m different."


    "Yes, you are." He nodded slowly. "Your control is... unexpected. But that doesn''t mean you''ll survive. In fact, your current condition suggests the opposite."


    "This wasn''t caused by my cultivation," I pointed out. "This was Bancroft''s de."


    Bellweather waved a dismissive hand. "Bancroft wouldn''t have touched you if your foundation was solid. I watched recordings of your fight. You rely too heavily on brute force and desperate gambles."


    The criticism stung, but I couldn''t deny its truth.


    "That''s why I need your guidance," I admitted. "I''ve been fighting on instinct, with fragmented knowledge pieced together from ancient texts."


    "And yet you''ve managed to be one of the most wanted men in Veridia City." There was a hint of grudging respect in his tone. "Tell me something, Knight. What do you really want? Revenge against the Guild? Power? Status?"


    I didn''t hesitate. "I want Isabelle safe. Everything else is secondary."


    "A noble sentiment." He didn''t sound convinced. "And yet you''ve left a trail of bodies and destruction that suggests other motives."


    "Every person I''ve killed tried to kill me first," I said tly. "I didn''t start this war, but I''ll finish it if I have to."


    Bellweather studied me for another moment, then abruptly stood. "You need food. And better medical attention than I can provide." He moved toward the door. "We''ll continue this discussion when you''re stronger."


    "We don''t have time," I protested, again trying to rise despite the pain. "The Guild is—"


    "The Guild knows better than to search here," he cut me off. "Rest. Heal. Or die trying to be a hero. Your choice."


    With that, he left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the pulsing agony of my wound.


    Hours passed. I drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain ebbing and flowing like a tide. At some point, a bowl of bitter medicinal soup appeared beside me, along with strict instructions to drink it all. Iplied, though every movement was torture.


    By nightfall, I could sit up without passing out, though the effort left me drenched in sweat. The wound in my back had begun to close at an unnatural rate, likely due to whatever concoction Bellweather had given me.


    When he returned, I was examining a faded map of Veridia City that hung on the wall.


    "nning your next suicide mission?" he asked dryly.


    "Trying to understand my options," I replied. "The Guild headquarters has seven known entrances, all heavily guarded. But there must be others."


    Bellweather snorted. "There are twenty-three entrances in total. All equally impossible for someone in your condition."


    I turned to face him, surprised by this admission. "You seem well-informed about the Guild''s security."


    "I helped design it." He gestured for me to sit. "Before my... retirement."


    That was unexpected information. "Then you know how to get past it."


    "I know it''s impossible." Bellweather crossed his arms. "Even at full strength, with a team of elite fighters, your chances would be minimal. In your current state?" He shook his head. "Suicide."


    I sat down heavily, frustration building inside me. "I can''t just leave her there."


    "The Ashworth girl." He nodded. "I''ve heard rumors about her. Special bloodline. Unique constitution. Perfect vessel for certain ancient arts."


    My fists clenched involuntarily. "She''s not a vessel. She''s a person."


    "To you, perhaps." His expression remained impassive. "To the Guild, she''s a resource. One they''ve been seeking for generations."


    "Which is why I need to get her out," I insisted. "Before they drain her dry or worse."


    Bellweather regarded me thoughtfully. "You truly care for this woman."


    It wasn''t a question, but I answered anyway. "More than my own life."


    "And yet you''re willing to trade her blood for my help." His eyes narrowed. "How does that align with your noble intentions?"


    "I said freely given," I rified. "With her consent. Not harvested against her will."


    He appeared to weigh my words carefully before speaking again. "I haven''t agreed to help you."


    "But you haven''t refused either."


    A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Observant. Yes, I''m... considering your proposition."


    Hope red in my chest, but I tempered it with caution. "What would convince you?"


    Bellweather rose and walked to a cab at the far end of the room. He returned with a small wooden box, simr to the one I''d given him but older, the wood darkened with age.


    "Do you know what this is?" he asked, cing it on the table between us.


    "No," I admitted.


    "This contains a sample of Original Ancestor''s blood, collected over a century ago." He opened the box, revealing a crystallized droplet norger than a grain of rice. "Thest of my supply."


    I stared at the tiny crystal, understanding its significance. "You''ve been using it to extend your life."


    He nodded. "And to maintain my cultivation at peak levels. Without it, my powers would have begun declining decades ago."


    "And the vial I gave you?"


    "Willst perhaps a year, if carefully rationed." His gaze sharpened. "Not enough for what I truly need."


    I leaned forward, ignoring the pain that shot through my back. "And what is that?"


    "Ascension." His voice dropped to just above a whisper. "To break through the Martial Saint bottleneck and reach the legendary Martial Immortal realm."


    The revtion hit me like a physical blow. Martial Immortals were considered myths, figures from ancient legends rather than achievable ranks. No cultivator in recorded history had confirmed reaching that level.


    "You believe that''s possible?" I asked carefully.


    "With enough of the Original Ancestor''s essence, yes." His eyes took on a distant look. "I''ve spent fifty years researching it. The theories are sound."


    I processed this information, seeing both opportunity and danger. "If I guarantee you ess to enough of Isabelle''s blood for this purpose, would you help me?"


    Bellweather''s attention snapped back to me, suddenly intense. "You can make such a guarantee?"


    "If—and only if—she agrees," I emphasized. "And only after she''s safely away from the Guild."


    He studied me for a long moment, weighing my words against decades of caution and solitude. "I want more than vague promises, Knight. I want certainty."


    "Nothing in this world is certain," I countered. "But I can offer you this: help me rescue Isabelle and protect her, and I''ll convince her to provide what you need. She''s generous by nature, especially to those who help her."


    "And if she refuses?"


    "Then you''ll still have my gratitude and whatever otherpensation I can provide." I met his gaze steadily. "But she won''t refuse. Not if your intentions are honest."


    Another long silence stretched between us as Bellweather considered my words. Finally, he closed the wooden box with a decisive click.


    "I will notmit to helping you infiltrate the Guild," he said firmly. "That would be folly for both of us."


    My heart sank, but before I could protest, he continued.


    "However, I will allow you to recover here. And I will consider teaching you certain techniques that might improve your chances of survival." He paused meaningfully. "Beyond that, we will see."


    It wasn''t the agreement I''d hoped for, but it was more than I''d had an hour ago. "Thank you."


    "Don''t thank me yet," he warned. "My training methods have killed stronger men than you."


    A knock at the door interrupted our conversation. Bellweather frowned, clearly not expecting visitors.


    "Stay here," he ordered, rising swiftly.


    This text was acquired from *.


    I tensed, ready to fight despite my condition. If the Guild had somehow tracked me here...


    Bellweather returned momentster, his expression unreadable. "You have another visitor. One who seems quite invested in your survival."


    He stepped aside, revealing a figure I hadn''t expected to see: Mariana Valerius, Pavilion Master of the Celestial Apothecary Guild, her elegant robes immacte as always.


    "Lord Pavilion Master," I breathed, struggling to rise in her presence despite my injury.


    "Stay seated, Liam," shemanded gently, gliding into the room. "Your wound requires rest."


    Iplied, stunned by her appearance. "How did you find me?"


    "I have my ways." Her eyes conveyed more than her words. "More importantly, I''vee to ensure you receive proper medical care."


    Bellweather''s stance had subtly shifted, bing more guarded. "Pavilion Master Valerius. This is... unexpected."


    "Commander Bellweather." She inclined her head slightly. "It''s been many years."


    The tension between them was palpable. These were two of the most powerful figures in Veridia City, representatives of rival factions that had maintained an uneasy peace for decades.


    "You know why he''s here?" Bellweather asked her directly.


    "I do." Mariana''s gaze shifted to me. "And I support his goals, if not his methods."


    That surprised me. Thest time we''d spoken, Mariana had warned me against challenging the Guild directly. What had changed?


    "I''vee to make the same request he has," she continued, addressing Bellweather. "The Guild has overstepped its bounds. Their treatment of the Ashworth girl vites ancient ords between our organizations."


    Bellweather''s expression hardened. "The ords haven''t been honored in decades."


    "Which is precisely why they must be reestablished now." Mariana''s tone was firm. "Before this conflict esctes further."


    I looked between them, sensing currents of old politics and deeper histories that I didn''t fully understand.


    "The Guild will never release her voluntarily," I said, breaking their silent standoff.


    "Perhaps not," Mariana agreed. "But there are proper channels, diplomatic approaches that haven''t been exhausted."


    "While you exhaust those channels, they''re draining her blood and breaking her spirit," I argued, anger rising despite my attempt to remain calm. "Every day we dy puts her at greater risk."


    Bellweather studied both of us, his weathered face revealing nothing of his thoughts. Finally, he addressed me directly.


    "You came here offering a deal. Divine Rank Pill Forms and a Breathing Training Skill, if I recall correctly."


    I nodded, surprised he was bringing this up now. "Yes."


    "Show me," he demanded. "Prove their value."


    With effort, I reached into my spatial ring and withdrew several jade slips containing the forms I''d mentioned. I ced them on the table, along with a small manual describing the breathing technique I''d developed bybining ancient methods with my unique dual-energy system.


    Bellweather examined them carefully, his expression gradually shifting from skepticism to genuine interest as he absorbed their contents.


    "These are... unexpected," he admitted finally. "The breathing method especially. It incorporates principles I haven''t seen outside certain restricted archives."


    "It works," I said simply. "I''ve tested it extensively."


    "And the pill forms?"


    "Verified and refined through multiple trials," I confirmed. "They''re particrly effective for warriors with fire-based cultivation."


    Bellweather set the materials down and looked at Mariana. "You vouch for this man?"


    "Without reservation," she replied immediately. "Liam Knight is perhaps the most gifted alchemist of his generation, despite his... unconventional methods."


    The oldmander fell silent, weighing his options. I could practically see the calctions running behind his eyes—risk versus reward, personal gain against potential consequences.


    "Very well," he said atst. "You may remain here to recover. I will not turn you over to the Guild."


    Relief flooded through me, but I knew this was only the beginning. "And after I recover?"


    "We will discuss strategy." He nced at Mariana. "With the Pavilion Master''s input, since she''s involved herself in this matter."


    Mariana stepped forward, her attention now fully on my wound. "First, we must address your injury properly. Commander, do you still possess the medicinal cauldron you acquired from the Northern Expedition?"


    Bellweather nodded. "It hasn''t been used in years."


    "I''ve brought herbs that will elerate his healing," she exined, producing a jade box from her spatial ring. "With your permission, I''d like to prepare a treatment immediately."


    Bellweather gestured his assent, and Mariana began unpacking various medicinal ingredients, her movements precise and practiced.


    As they worked together to prepare the treatment, I watched them with growing curiosity. There was history between these two powerful figures—not quite friendship, but a deep mutual respect that transcended their factional differences.


    And somehow, I had be the focal point that brought them together again after what appeared to be years of separation.


    When the preparations wereplete, Mariana approached me with a bowl of medicinal liquid that emanated a strong, pungent aroma.


    "This will be painful," she warned. "But it will repair damage that would otherwise be permanent."


    I nodded my understanding and braced myself as she began applying the medicine to my wound. The pain was immediate and intense, like liquid fire being poured directly onto exposed nerves. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out.


    Through watering eyes, I looked up at Mariana Valerius—the enigmatic Pavilion Master who had appeared in my moment of greatest need, just as she had once before.


    "Lord Pavilion Master," I whispered, the question that had been burning in my mind finally escaping my lips. "I have a doubt in my heart... Why are you helping me?"