The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Grandmaster Thorne and Gideon walked across the Training Grounds.

The sect leader wore a troubled expression, which Thorne quietly observed without comment.

It was Gideon who broke the silence first.

"Senior Brother… why are you always so infuriating?"

"You must have been impressed," Thorne replied with a faint smirk.

Gideon gazed at the twilight sky, where the setting sun burned a vivid red across the heavens.

At its edge, the night crept in, dark and charred, as if scorched by the sun's fire.

The colors—so dark they seemed black—reminded him of the Black cherry Blossoms surrounding Vera when he entered her room.

He couldn't forget the sight:

She had been seated amidst a sea of black blossoms, her eyes closed in deep focus. Her body harmonized with the flow of her energy, as if the very energy of the world pulsed through her.

Just when he thought the surprises were over…

"I thought you'd found the future cherry Blossom Sword Master," Gideon said.

"And now?"

"I realize I was mistaken."

Gideon turned to look at the Blooming Peak Pavilion. Through the open windows, he could see Vera surrounded by other disciples.

"Then what do you see in her?"

"That child… she is the cherry blossom itself," Gideon murmured.

He waved his hand gently, conjuring the image of blooming cherry blossoms in the air with a flick of his fingers. Yet his expression remained bitter.

"You seem fond of her," Thorne teased.

"As the leader of Mount Suncrest, how could I dislike someone who embodies the spirit of the cherry blossom?"

Later that evening, after the commotion subsided, Vera sat in her darkened room, reflecting on the day's events.

"…I didn't expect to have a private audience with the sect leader right after arriving," she muttered.

Though Grandmaster Thorne had been present as her mentor, most of the conversation had been between her and Gideon. It might as well have been a private meeting.

Her senior disciples had swarmed her afterward, bombarding her with questions, but Vera answered almost none of them.

She couldn't casually reveal the content of her conversation with the sect leader.

Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned before finally lighting a candle.

On her desk lay two manuals:

Clear Mind Technique and cherry Blossom Sword—basic texts of the Mount Suncrest Sect.

They were techniques she had mastered long ago.

"…Why did Father insist on learning the Eclipsing Cherry Blossom Stance?"

It hadn't been of much use to him.

Yet, the Black cherry Sword Lord had tirelessly cultivated the Eclipsing Cherry Blossom Stance.

In his final moments, he had poured everything—his inner energy from the Clear Mind Technique, his innate energy—into the Eclipsing Cherry Blossom energy and left it to her.

"Why…?" she whispered.

Opening the manuals, she found nothing different from what she already knew. The scent of new ink filled her senses as she flipped through the crisp pages, but the content brought memories of her father's discipline.

"…He was a rigid man," she murmured.

Because of his unyielding principles, Bloomspire Sect had never flourished.

They had never gone hungry, but they had never thrived either.

Perhaps he had always known.

Known that his rigid sense of justice would one day lead to this.

That his inability to hold his tongue would bring ruin.

Vera sighed deeply.

After briefly reviewing the manuals, she extinguished the candle, leaving her window open to let the starlight in as she tried to sleep.

Morning light streamed through the open window, brightening the room.

She sat up, listening to the silence. It seemed she was the only one awake.

Folding her sleeping clothes neatly, she changed into her training robe while recalling her dream.

In the dream, the Black dragon had pressed its face against hers affectionately.

"…You could've been like that from the start," she muttered.

It always seemed to wait until she coughed up blood before softening.

Sighing, she fastened her belt and approached the wall where three swords hung.

Without hesitation, she chose the one gifted by Aiden and strapped it to her waist.

Just as she was about to leave, the door creaked open.

Standing there was Marcus, his expression startled.

"…Senior Brother?"

"You're already awake?" he asked, his ears turning red.

Vera narrowed her eyes slightly.

"What brings you to my room, Senior Brother?"

"I came to wake you," he replied awkwardly.

"You could've called from outside," she pointed out.

"If you're ready, let's go," he said, avoiding the subject.

"Understood. I'll follow you," she replied.

The Blooming Peak Pavilion was silent in the early morning. None of the other third-generation disciples were awake—not even Ethan or Noah.

Vera paused at the hall's entrance.

"Senior Brother."

"Why are you standing there?"

"Ethan and Noah are still asleep," she said.

"That's… irrelevant," he muttered.

"Where are you taking me, Senior Brother?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Quite perceptive, aren't you?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Is it something that can't be discussed here?"

"Yes."

Resting his hand on the hilt of his sword, Marcus led her outside.

It wasn't the short cherry Blossom Sword; it was a full-length sword, suited to his tall frame, even at seventeen.

Vera gazed up at him.

"May I ask what this is about, Senior Brother?"

"I saw you perform Great Heaven Circuit, " he admitted, his gaze fixed on her.

His expression was pensive, and his tone carried a hint of hesitation.

"…I have a favor to ask," he said finally.

"A favor?"

"I'm the senior disciple of the third generation. I was the first to join and have trained the longest. None have come close to surpassing me—save perhaps Ethan."

He spoke with sincerity, his posture upright and steady.

"Because of my position, I know the level of every disciple's martial arts. But you… I can't discern yours. Watching you perform Great Heaven Circuit, I didn't feel jealousy. I felt…"

"Felt what?"

"I want to be like you," he admitted.

His eyes, filled with a mix of wariness and longing, were no longer those of a Daoist.

They were the eyes of a martial artist.

"Please teach me. I'm asking you as a favor," he said, extending his hand to the small girl.

Instead of taking his hand, Vera spoke calmly.

"I'm not yet skilled enough to teach anyone."

"…I see."

"But I don't want to refuse your request, Senior Brother," she added.

His extended hand represented a humility she couldn't ignore.