The Cunning Treasure Hunter

At the Precipice

"Hah? Ha! Hahaha! Hahahaha!"

Theron burst into laughter.

Between chuckles, he tore into the skewer on his plate and tapped the tip of Marcus's drawn sword with the wooden stick.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't need a sword for you, Marcus."

"I know."

"This wooden skewer should be more than enough."

"Is that so? Then I'll take at least two of your fingers."

A fierce battle of wills unfolded between them.

If Theron unleashed his full inner energy, the match would be over in an instant. Yet he didn't.

Because for the first time in his life… he was intrigued.

It wasn't pity that held him back but genuine curiosity.

Never before had he encountered someone so weak yet so stubborn.

Within the Akrest Clan, he was a peerless, untouchable existence—the Heir Apparent and a genius acknowledged by the Sword Sovereign himself.

Theron wasn't just a prodigy; he was the one destined to inherit the clan's ultimate technique, the Blue Sky energy, something even the current leader hadn't mastered.

As the future of the Akrest Clan, none dared oppose him.

Not even the elders who had surpassed the pinnacle of mastery, nor the shadowy enforcers of the Akrest Clan's Midnight Celestial Pavilion, would think of challenging him.

But this boy in front of him—this insignificant disciple of Suncrest—was different.

Were all the peers in Suncrest like this? No, that couldn't be true.

None of the elites he'd encountered in other sects had ever interested him.

They weren't even capable of creating an opportunity to pique his curiosity.

But Suncrest had done it. It had provided the catalyst.

"Alright, alright. I'm not some villain who forces a senior disciple to kneel before his junior. Let's call it here."

Theron raised his hands in mock surrender, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

Marcus clenched his free hand into a trembling fist at the taunt.

"…Senior Brother."

The warmth of a small hand grounded him.

Vera had quietly grasped his fist, gently shaking her head.

Only then did Marcus lower his sword.

"Wow, they weren't kidding when they said Suncrest's disciples are stubborn. Guess it's true," Theron quipped.

He slung his coat over his shoulder, shaking his head as though exasperated.

Then, he tossed a jingling pouch of silver onto the table.

"This should cover the bill. I'm leaving since the mood's been ruined."

Marcus said nothing, refusing to acknowledge him.

But Vera wasn't the same.

Her gaze was firm as she addressed him.

"Do you know what the 'Nine Heavens' in the Nine Heavens Cherry Blossom Sword signifies?"

"Suddenly?"

"It refers to the heavens beyond the heavens—the highest among the nine skies."

The Akrest Clan's Imperial Sword Formation symbolized the vast and boundless sky.

Her statement was a direct challenge, an assertion that Suncrest's martial arts stood higher, above even the unreachable heavens of Akrest.

"…You sure know how to provoke someone, don't you?"

"I'll see you on the dueling stage."

"You want to compare your heaven to ours? To see which is higher?"

His lips curled into a smile, but his eyes didn't follow.

They gleamed with the intensity of a madman's as he stared at Vera.

But she didn't look away.

Her black, abyssal gaze met his without a trace of fear.

"I'll show you."

For the first time, Theron's smirk faded completely.

It wasn't a threat but a declaration—one that carried the weight of his pride as a martial artist.

A statement meant for a battle beyond a simple duel, one destined for life and death.

"I'll show you how the heaven of a commoner differs from the heaven of a king."

With those words, he slammed the door behind him as he left.

Only then did Marcus collapse into his chair, his legs too weak to hold him up any longer.

"Damn it. My legs gave out," he muttered, letting out a deep sigh.

Vera silently watched him, then placed a steady hand on his shoulder.

"Rest for a while, Senior Brother."

"I made a fool of myself. Sorry."

She shook her head and pulled a chair to sit beside him.

Marcus gently ruffled her hair.

This small, frail girl—capable of standing against the Heir Apparent of the Akrest Clan—was a force beyond reason.

The contrast left him deeply unsettled.

"Can you win?"

"Yes. You don't need to worry."

"But your opponent is…"

Vera lightly grasped his hand, pulling it down from her head and patting it reassuringly.

"Senior Brother, I will win."

"…I see. If it's you, I believe it."

An inexplicable trust welled up within him—a conviction that no one, no matter how powerful, could defeat this girl.

He resolved himself to place his faith in her.

"I'll believe in you."

"Are you telling me there's a Cherry blossom in Suncrest that doesn't obey the Sect Leader?"

The voice, drunk and slurred, echoed through Scarlet Crown Chamber.

The speaker, Ebon, didn't care. With inner energy, he could dispel the intoxication at any time, so he indulged in drinking without restraint.

Seven bottles of Golden Southern Spring Wine lay empty beside him, toppled over like fallen soldiers. He was working on the eighth.

It was excessive drinking, pure and simple.

"Exactly! That girl is truly getting on my nerves."

"Is there anything within the gates of the Suncrest Sect that does not bend to the Sect Leader's will?"

"Exactly my point!"

"Then crush her."

Ebon's eyes gleamed.

He had the perfect card to play, one that would bring the Sect Leader to owe him a debt.

The temptation was undeniable.

"I've prepared a move, but I don't trust it entirely."

He was, of course, referring to Dylan and Jace.

The Sect Leader had ordered them to learn the Nine Heavens Cherry Blossom Sword and even encouraged them to actively use it in combat.

Against weaker opponents, even an unpolished Nine Heavens Cherry Blossom Sword might suffice.

But against someone stronger or of equal skill?

There was no guarantee. Their inexperience would leave openings, and those openings could lead to fatal mistakes.

If they lost, the consequences would be severe. Desperation would take over, turning their swords into blind weapons.

"Unreliable, you say?"

"The thought of that girl winning… It's already giving me a headache."

"You could always let her be."

The low tone of Ebon's voice made the Suncrest Sect Leader, Gideon, frown. But soon, realization dawned.

When Ebon spoke like this, it usually meant he had a plan.

"You mean to let her win?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

Ebon reached for one of the empty bottles, gripping it by the neck.

With a faint glimmer at his fingertips, he sliced the bottle cleanly in half.

"I have a sharp blade ready, don't I?"

"You mean your son."

"Exactly."

Gideon hesitated, shaking his head.

Having Ebon's son humiliate one of his disciples? That would put Suncrest in an awkward position, handing Ebon a powerful card to play.

Such a debt was dangerous. It was tantamount to handing over leverage.

"Ha, how could I impose such a cruel request upon your son…"

"No, no. Nothing like that. I'm merely saying…"

Ebon lowered his voice.

"My son can break that girl so thoroughly that she'll lose all remaining pride."

"…Indeed. A child born with the Heavenly Martial Constitution, acknowledged by the Sword Sovereign himself."

"So there's no need to ask me for any favors. Just wait."

Of course, it would be better if the Sect Leader directly requested his help—it would cement the debt.

But Ebon wasn't foolish. Pushing too hard could ruin everything.

This level of assurance was enough to make Gideon feel he owed him something.

"…I'll look forward to it."

"What's there to look forward to when the result is already decided? Hahaha!"

After settling the bill, there was money left over.

"Should we return this?" Marcus asked, glancing at the silk pouch holding the leftover silver.

Surprisingly, Vera shook her head.

"He didn't ask for it back."

"So… you're saying we should keep it?"

"Why not?"

Vera plucked the pouch from the counter and tucked it into her robes.

Marcus's eyes widened in surprise.

"That's… unexpected."

"Why is that?"

"I thought you wouldn't care for material possessions."

Vera shook her head with a faint smile.

"It's not about material possessions."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't like him."

A simple, direct answer.

Marcus blinked before nodding in understanding.

His junior sister wasn't a lifeless doll. She had her likes and dislikes, clear as day.

It was just that, most of the time, nothing moved her enough to bring those feelings to the surface.

"I keep learning new things about you today," Marcus said, chuckling as he patted her on the head.

Vera gazed up at him with her dark eyes, calm and steady.

Then, with a faint smirk, she spoke.

"You can pat my head, but you're not getting this pouch."

"That's not why I patted you…"

"It was a joke."

Her tone didn't match the words, and her eyes were far from playful.

Yet, her lips carried the faintest hint of a smile.

As the sun set in the western sky, it painted the once-blue expanse with fiery shades of red.

The eastern edge of the horizon grew darker, blackening like embers cooling into night.

It was time to return.