THE REAL PROTEGE

Butler Oda stood at the helm of the small elite force, leading the charge with the First Shah and Second Shah flanking him on either side. The remaining pillars followed close behind, their footsteps silent against the uneven terrain.

They moved as specters, unseen, unheard — warriors trained to vanish into the night.

This was no ordinary mission.

Solaris was not a target that could be approached casually, not an enemy that could be cornered without absolute precision.

Dark Arts cultivators did not run — they prepared.

And preparation meant one thing: death was coming for someone.

Oda's eyes flickered toward the narrow passage ahead. Hidden Valley was close.

"We'll reach the valley before dawn," he murmured, voice barely above the breeze.

The First Shah tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade.

"Solaris won't stay still if he knows we're coming," he muttered.

The Second Shah exhaled slowly, gaze sharp.

"Then we must ensure he never sees us coming."

By the time they entered Hidden Valley, the sky had begun its slow transition into dawn — streaks of deep violet bleeding into the edges of black.

The valley was vast, untouched by the outside world. Rows of ancient pavilions stretched along the ridges, each belonging to powerful cultivation families, their history carved into the very foundations of the land.

The warriors of Hidden Valley were unlike any others.

They were trained from childhood and taught that cultivation was not merely an art — it was life itself.

To be weak was to be dead.

To be strong was to be immortal.

If Solaris had infiltrated this sacred place, it meant one thing — he was searching for power beyond what he already possessed.

And that?

That could not be allowed.

Oda stopped just short of the main hall, his sharp gaze scanning the gathering forces.

"We move in pairs," he ordered. "Spread out. Watch every movement, every shadow. Solaris can change his face — you won't see him unless you're looking for what shouldn't be there."

The warriors nodded and then vanished into the valley.

The hunt had begun.

The valley remained eerily quiet, its vast terrain illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns flickering from the outer pavilions. A place meant for warriors, for cultivators dedicated to their craft, now held the shadow of something far darker.

Oda stood at the base of the constabulary hall, his posture unwavering, his presence commanding even before he spoke.

But tonight, he was Otako.

Clad in deep crimson robes, the mask of Otako sat firmly over his face — a masterpiece of craftsmanship forged from a material unknown to common people. The edges gleamed faintly, unnatural, as if embedded with power beyond mere appearance.

If any outsider dared touch it, their flesh would decay upon contact.

Otako was not meant to be impersonated.

He was a legend.

He was feared.

And he was here.

The moment Otako entered, every warrior inside the Hidden Valley Constabulary knelt in immediate reverence, their hands cupped before them.

A declaration. A submission.

"Master Otako." Their voices rang through the hall in unison.

Oda strode forward, his steps slow, deliberate, calculated.

The atmosphere shifted thick with authority — this was not a visit. This was an order being put into motion.

Ling Li could not afford for anyone to suspect her absence. Not now. Not ever.

The hidden truth behind Otako must never be known.

Oda's voice, deepened beneath the mask, cut through the silence.

"A Dark Art Cultivator has entered our grounds. He is Solaris. He can change his face, from male to female, from old to young. And he eats the brain and the heart of his victims."

A ripple passed through the ranks — tense, unreadable, but unmistakable.

No warrior of Hidden Valley could allow this.

A Dark Arts cultivator was a corruption — an insult to their traditions.

The assistant constabulary commander, also a seasoned cultivator named Jin Yuan, clenched his jaw as he raised his head slightly.

"There has been news about this dark cultivator, and it has caused riots here at the constabulary for several days. We were only able to pacify the people yesterday.

Master, do we have confirmation?"

Otako — Oda beneath the mask — turned his gaze toward him, the weight of his presence pressing into the room.

"You dare doubt me?" Otako's voice was low, lethal.

Jin Yuan flinched, lowering his head immediately, his hand pressing against the floor.

"Forgive me, Master Otako."

Silence.

Then, Otako exhaled slowly, measured.

"He is here. You will assist in the search. You will obey without question."

Jin Yuan bowed deeper.

"As you command."

The warriors of the constabulary followed suit.

Otako straightened, then turned.

There was no need for further words.

The hunt had begun.

Oda's command rippled through the forces, spreading out among Hidden Valley's vast network of cultivators. The pillars moved swiftly, splitting into search units, each assigned to a specific section of the valley.

The First Shah and The Second Shah moved along the ridge-side temples, watching for any anomaly in energy fluctuations — Solaris could alter his form, but his presence would not be undetectable.

The others searched within the deep forest pathways, using their trained senses to locate anything unnatural.

If Solaris were in Hidden Valley, it would only be a matter of time before he was found.

==============

Two days before the wedding, the estate buzzed with electric energy — each hour drawing the wedding closer, each heartbeat louder under the mounting thrill. For two days, cars streamed in through the gated driveway, delivering faces etched with familiarity and prestige.

From every corner of the world, they came. Ling Li's extended family. Her parents were now glowing with joy and quiet pride; her cousins, martial uncles, and high-ranking guests, whose presence sent whispers rippling down the hallways. Elders greeted one another beneath lantern-lined pavilions while quiet security lines blurred behind the rose hedges.

It was a convergence of the respected, the powerful, and the fiercely protected.

And behind this perfectly orchestrated chaos?

Shi Min, sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp as a hawk. Mushu, hair slightly more unruly than usual, darted between the front gates and the logistics terminal. Pharsa is calm but strict, managing rosters and room assignments like a seasoned general with a clipboard.

They worked without sleep, barely pausing to catch their breath, ensuring each VIP guest was met with grace, escorted, and protected. Shuttle routes, background scans, guesthouse clearances — every detail was double-checked, annotated, and color-coded. On the second night, Pharsa was caught muttering in her sleep, "Room 314 is feng shui-neutral; we move Master Wong to 218."