The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Chapter 98 The Infernal Blade Corps's Awakening

There was a reason why the Infernal Blade Corps had stirred into action.

It wasn't mere coincidence or aimlessness.

If one traced back the events, it started a few days ago.

The Sword Ghost, Daven, had received a "revelation" in a dream.

The successor of the Demonic Cult,

The Young Cult Leader, known also as the Heavenly Demon's Successor,

Had appeared in his vision.

The revelation was not some grandiose divine display,

But it was clear nonetheless.

The Ten Thousand Mountain Range,

And at its peak stood the Young Cult Leader,

Clad in his familiar, commanding presence.

While most of the vision was shrouded in hazy black mist,

Two areas stood out clearly—his left leg and right arm.

They weren't covered in the dark fog.

They were unmistakable.

The same features Daven remembered from his youth,

Belonging to his young lord.

"Ah… my lord… my Young Cult Leader…"

Even in his dream, Daven murmured with reverence.

To him, the Young Cult Leader was a figure of both awe and longing,

A lord he hadn't seen in decades.

Though he considered himself unworthy,

Daven had once been fortunate to stand before him.

As a disciple of the Sword Demon,

A man revered by the Heavenly Demon,

Daven had earned the privilege to meet the Young Cult Leader during his youth.

At barely fifteen years of age,

The Young Cult Leader had already carried himself with the gravitas of an adult.

His piercing black eyes,

His long, neatly tied black hair—

The image was burned into Daven's memory.

The Heavenly Demon was chosen by the Malefic Deity,

But generations ago, the Heavenly Demon had developed an arcane ritual to transfer this "choice."

By sacrificing the eyes of 4,444 victims,

The ritual manipulated the heavens, forcing destiny to be rewritten.

It made the impossible possible,

Ensuring a new Heavenly Demon was born without needing to search the Ten Thousand Mountain Range for a destined child.

The current Heavenly Demon, the one before him,

And even the Young Cult Leader—

All were beneficiaries of this ritual.

"Sword Ghost, Daven, hear my command."

The voice of the Young Cult Leader echoed in his mind.

Tears streamed down Daven's weathered face,

Soaking the front of his robes.

"The Infernal Blade Corps shall rise, strike Eastern Mountain , and divert the Martial Unity's attention."

It was an order that demanded absolute obedience,

A mission more precious than his own life.

The Sword Ghost's Last Stand

"Guh…"

Daven's arm fell limply to his side.

Slumped against a crumbling wall,

His body was a wreck.

One of his legs had been severed and was nowhere to be seen.

"Ha… you put up a good fight. I'll give you that,"

Jordan, The Burning Tiger of Heaven, muttered.

His blade dripped with blood,

And though his body bore numerous cuts,

None of them were fatal.

Only a thin, long scar now adorned his cheek.

"Why… why was the Heavenly Realm… denied to me?"

The Sword Ghost's voice quivered with regret.

To this, Jordan chuckled softly,

Lifting his sword once more.

With a swift thrust,

The blade pierced through Daven's core.

"Guh! Hngh… argh!"

The blade, brimming with Sword Force,

Shattered his core,

Scattering the demonic energy from his body.

The oppressive aura of demonic energy vanished in an instant.

Daven clawed at the air,

Writhing helplessly as his strength drained from him.

When Jordan withdrew his blade,

Blood poured from the wound,

Spreading in a dark, viscous pool beneath him.

"Relying on demonic energy,

No wonder you never reached the Heavenly Realm," Jordan scoffed.

It wasn't an unfair statement.

demonic energy, while immensely powerful,

Was a crutch—

A shortcut to overwhelming strength without the years of rigorous cultivation that ordinary inner energy demanded.

Yet, mastering martial arts through shortcuts rarely led to true greatness.

"But… but…"

With his remaining strength,

Daven reached feebly toward his sword,

Embedded far away in the dirt.

Watching this, Jordan snorted.

"You're finished, Sword Ghost."

"The Young Cult Leader's divine command…"

Desperation filled his voice,

But Jordan's blade moved again.

The brilliant blue Sword Force cleaved through Daven's sword,

Slicing the weapon, forged of black iron,

Into two clean pieces.

Seeing his shattered sword,

The Sword Ghost's hand fell lifelessly.

No more defiance,

No more breath.

He was dead.

His limbs severed, his core destroyed,

And his body bled dry.

"Ha… it's been a while since I've had a duel that intense,"

Jordan murmured, sheathing his blade.

He turned, his gaze falling on the others.

Ethan, Marcus, and Vera stared at him in stunned silence.

Even Adrian and Regis,

Caught up in their own battle,

Had stopped to watch.

It was Adrian who reacted first.

"Damn it!"

With a curse,

He turned and fled toward the forest of Hollow Demon Valley.

"Just you wait!" he spat as he disappeared,

A pitiful retreat.

Jordan's Departure

Regis hesitated to give chase.

His eyes swept across the scene—

Half of the Black Eagle Guard lay gravely injured.

The young female disciple from the Mount Suncrest Sect, who had come to assist, was also severely hurt.

Even worse, the Sword Ghost had been after the girl's heart.

There was clearly some secret here that he did not yet understand.

And then there was the mysterious expert.

"I must ask," Regis began cautiously.

"Who are you, great master? I don't mean to sound ungrateful after your assistance, but—"

"There's no need for you to know."

Jordan cut him off cleanly.

He slung his sword, still sheathed, casually over his shoulder,

Looking more like a wandering vagabond than a master of the Heavenly Realm.

"Let's just say you owe your lives to me, wouldn't you agree?"

The gathered fighters nodded in silence.

Without warning,Jordan unsheathed his sword with a lightning-fast motion.

The blade flashed,

And before anyone could react,

The Sword Ghost's head rolled across the blood-soaked ground.

"The credit for killing him is yours. Divide it as you see fit," he said nonchalantly.

"Great master, we cannot—"

"Then say it was some nameless swordsman passing by.

But heed this: keep my involvement to yourselves."

He slid his blade back into its sheath,

Casually stroking his scruffy beard.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Let's just say I have my reasons.

Especially you, sharp-eyed little one."

He gestured toward Vera with a nod of his chin.

The girl, despite her injuries, understood his meaning.

She had recognized him.

Likely from their last sparring match—

A fleeting exchange of swords had been enough for her to discern the essence of his martial arts.

"Yes…" Vera murmured weakly.

It would take her a long time to recover from her injuries.

"Being too clever for your own good can shorten your life," he said with a faint smile.

"Understood…"

"I'm not threatening you, just some advice. Keep your mouth shut, or you won't live long enough to regret it."

Satisfied, Jordan nodded.

Then, without activating any footwork techniques,

He turned and walked into the dense forest,

Waving casually over his shoulder.

"Alright, let's try not to meet again."

The Aftermath

The air was still thick with the stench of blood,

Its malice and murderous intent clinging to the survivors like a shadow.

Within Vera,

The Black dragon stirred,

Feeding on the lingering negative energy,

Gradually calming her chaotic core.

But while her internal injuries stabilized,

Her fractured bones and overexerted body still screamed in pain.

"Vera, are you alright?"

Marcus knelt beside her,

His trembling hand resting on her forehead.

It was lukewarm.

What he didn't realize was that his own body was feverishly overheated,

Weakened from his earlier exertions.

"Senior brother, you're the one who's burning up,"

Ethan said bluntly.

"…Am I?"

"Yeah, so put her down and let one of the Black Eagle Guard carry you too."

Reluctantly, Marcus nodded,

Biting his lip in frustration.

His helplessness gnawed at him.

Seeing this, Vera extended a shaky hand,

Pressing her fingers lightly against his lips.

"Didn't… I say we would… get through this together?"

Each word was a struggle,

Her ribs aching with every breath.

"Stop talking, Vera," Ethan interjected firmly.

"You'll make your injuries worse."

"Yes…"

"And don't even answer me!"

Carefully, Ethan lifted Vera onto his back.

She was light.

Far lighter than he'd imagined.

It was hard to believe that this small, fragile girl had endured a battle against the Sword Ghost.

Sure, it had been one-sided—

A fight filled with mockery and overwhelming disparity in skill.

The gap in swordsmanship,

The sheer output of demonic energy,

And, most of all, the experience of eighty years of combat…

These were walls she couldn't hope to overcome.

Resting her head against Ethan's back,

Vera lowered her eyes.

She was still too weak.

Though she possessed monstrous talent,

She was young, inexperienced, and far from her peak.

She needed more power.

Her teeth clenched,

A silent vow forming in her heart.

But she knew impatience wouldn't help her.

Taking a deep breath,

She steadied her mind.

Now was not the time to dwell on her inadequacies.

Now was the time to recover.

"Vera,"

A voice broke her thoughts.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Marcus,

But Ethan.

"Yes, senior brother?"

"Get some sleep. And stop grinding your teeth. We're still young, you know."

"…Yes."

For once, his words carried an unexpected maturity.

With a gesture,

Ethan pointed to Marcus,

Already fast asleep on a Black Eagle Guard member's back.

"See? Even senior brother is resting. You should too."

"You're right."

Vera couldn't help but smile faintly.

Closing her eyes,

She allowed herself to drift into sleep.

With her senior brother carrying her,

It felt safe enough to rest.