The Cunning Treasure Hunter

The Peak Assembly was not solely an affair of the Suncrest Sect.

As one of the three greatest sects of the Nine Great Schools, alongside the Iron Fist Temple in the north and the Celestial Sword Sect in the south, the Suncrest Sect held a commanding presence in the martial world.

How could other sects not watch its every move with keen interest?

Among these observers were none other than the Five Great Noble Clans, including the prestigious Akrest Clan, the very lineage of the Lord of the Martial Unity, Zephyrion Akrest, the Sword Sovereign.

"Have all the weaklings been weeded out?"

The voice from inside the carriage was that of a middle-aged man.

It couldn't be the Sword Sovereign himself, for he was already an old man.

The coachman answered quietly, "It seems so, leader."

"Good… What a nuisance this is."

"You must go."

"If I don't, that old Sect Leader of Suncrest will be even more bothersome."

A sigh escaped the man's lips.

This was Ebon Akrest, current leader of the Akrest Clan and eldest son of Zephyrion. Known as the Blue Sky Sword, he carried the legacy of his clan's unrivaled swordsmanship.

"It's enjoyable to watch, Father," came a younger voice from the carriage.

"You think so, Theron? I don't."

"Well, I get to spar with the winner. Thinking about who it might be is quite exciting."

The speaker was a clean-cut young man, clearly the son of Ebon.

This was Theron, a sixteen-year-old prodigy of the Akrest Clan, already studying the legendary King's Sword Technique.

If the carriage's wooden shutters were drawn back, one would see his figure: tall and poised, with a chiseled jawline and broad shoulders.

Unlike the gentle aura of someone like Marcus, his features carried a rugged sharpness, leaving an unmistakable impression.

"It's cold, Theron," Ebon muttered.

"You're a master at the Supreme Peak Stage, Father. Can't you just circulate your inner strength to warm yourself?"

"Ha…"

Ebon Akrest glanced at his son, then said no more.

He wasn't one to fuss over his child's demeanor, as long as the boy maintained proper etiquette where it mattered.

Still, Theron's relaxed attitude often grated on him.

As the next leader of the Great Akrest Clan, one should hold oneself to strict standards, even when no one was watching.

But how could he blame him? Theron was a rare genius, blessed with the Heavenly Martial Constitution, able to absorb martial knowledge as effortlessly as silk absorbs ink.

At fifteen, he had mastered the Boundless Sky Sword.

At sixteen, he had begun studying the King's Sword Technique.

His dazzling accomplishments rivaled those of Zephyrion himself during his youth.

And so, Ebon refrained from reprimanding his son too harshly.

Besides, his father—Zephyrion —adored his grandson, perhaps even more than his own son.

If the two of them were drowning and only one could be saved, Ebon was sure his father would choose Theron without hesitation.

"...Do as you please," he muttered.

Turning to gaze out the opposite window, Ebon watched the distant peaks of Suncrest, rising like swords into the sky.

By sunset, they would arrive.

The Peak Assembly alternated between one day of competition and one day of rest, to account for the physical and mental toll of back-to-back duels.

Thus, arriving just before sunset posed no problem. The second round of matches wouldn't begin until the following day.

* * *

Around the same time, Vera had risen early and was sweeping the sparring grounds of the Blooming Peak Pavilion.

No one had asked her to do it.

She simply saw the scattered petals and dust and decided it needed to be cleaned.

"Vera, what are you doing?"

It was Marcus, who had failed to wake early after participating in several matches the previous day.

Smiling sheepishly, he picked up another broom and began sweeping alongside her.

"You ask what I'm doing, and then join me without waiting for an answer," Vera remarked.

"It's not that I don't know. I'm asking why you're sweeping."

"Because no one else is," she replied simply.

Chuckling, Marcus reached out to pat her head.

Her humility, despite her exceptional martial prowess, was admirable—something worth emulating.

"And why are you sweeping, Senior Brother?" she asked.

"Because you are," he said with a grin.

"...I see."

He tapped her forehead lightly with the broom handle.

Though Vera could have dodged or blocked it, she didn't. She simply blinked in mild confusion, as if to ask why he was doing such a thing.

"If my Junior Sister is sweeping, how could I, her Senior Brother, just stand by and watch?"

"...I understand. You wish to be a noble Senior Brother."

"Exactly!"

Laughing heartily, Marcus continued sweeping, and Vera joined in.

Together, they quickly cleared the sparring grounds.

Since the Peak Assembly alternated between matches and rest days, today was a break.

Even the merchants who lingered around the outer tents were forbidden from approaching the disciples on such days, leaving the Blooming Peak Pavilion unusually quiet.

It should have been a quiet day.

"Father!!"

A boisterous voice echoed through the Blooming Peak Pavilion, shaking its tranquility.

Noah was embracing a middle-aged man, a tearful reunion unfolding before everyone's eyes.

"Oh, my boy! You've been well?"

"Your son is always well, Father!"

The man was Jonh Gale , the master of the Gale Trading Guild and Noah's father.

"So your martial name is Noah now?"

"That's right, Father!"

"Oh, my boy, to think you've become a full disciple of Suncrest's main sect!"

It had been quite some time since Noah received his title and became one of the third-generation disciples, but it seemed his father had been too busy traveling across the martial world as a trade guild master to notice.

"And over there! That's our senior brother and the youngest new disciple!"

Noah pointed toward Marcus and Vera, leaving them no room to escape the introduction.

In truth, both Marcus and Vera were already overwhelmed by the sheer energy radiating from this father-son reunion.

"You two, come over here! Are you friends of my boy?"

"They're not friends, Father! That's my senior brother and junior sister!"

"Oh, how adorable! So adorable!"

Vera's face grew pale.

Seeing this, Marcus stepped forward, bowed politely, and began weaving an excuse with practiced ease.

"Our youngest isn't feeling well, so we should take her inside. I hope you don't mind if we excuse ourselves."

Noah's father, though energetic, was not unperceptive.

Vera's frail and pale appearance could easily give the impression of poor health. Though she was actually fine, her slender frame, delicate features, and almost translucent white skin gave off a sickly impression.

"Ah, I almost made a mistake, calling my son's senior and junior friends! Please, go quickly and rest."

"Thank you for your understanding, sir."

Marcus offered a quick salute before turning to Vera.

He gently pulled her close, as if to support her frail frame.

"Let's go, Vera."

"Senior Brother, you're remarkably skilled at lying," she said softly.

"Shh. You've been spared a lengthy ordeal because of it."

"I can't deny that..."

With that, Marcus and Vera began descending Suncrest Mountain.

At the base of the mountain lay Harmony Blossom Village, a small settlement associated with Suncrest Sect.

Normally, third-generation disciples were forbidden from leaving the sect's premises. The sect's plaque symbolized this boundary, ensuring that they stayed focused on their training.

However, during the Peak Assembly, exceptions were made.

As participants in the gathering, third-generation disciples were allowed to visit Harmony Blossom Village, though they were still restricted to its confines.

As they descended, Vera looked up at Marcus and asked, "I'm unfamiliar with the area below."

"Neither am I. But as long as we don't wander too far, we'll be able to return."

"We must return before sunset, correct?"

"That's right. But before then, let's try some food you can't find in Suncrest."

Marcus chuckled as he patted her head.

At some point, he had stopped pretending to support her, as they were now halfway down the mountain and it was no longer necessary.

Eventually, they reached the large gate bearing the Suncrest Sect's emblem.

Carriages from various trade guilds and merchants filled the area below, forming a bustling scene at the mountain's base.

"A lot of people have gathered," Marcus remarked.

"Suncrest is not a mountain one can ascend by carriage," Vera replied.

It was then that another carriage approached in the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust.

It was massive, heavily built, and drawn by four horses—clearly no ordinary carriage.

"...Strange," Marcus muttered.

It was unusual for someone to arrive after the first day of the gathering.

Most who missed the initial matches would wait until the third day to avoid unnecessary travel.

"Senior Brother, that crest..."

Vera's voice was tense, and her body stiffened.

"That's the crest of the Akrest Clan."

"Ah, so it is. Judging by the size of the carriage, it must be the leader himself."

Vera clenched her small fists tightly.

She held no grudge against the Akrest Clan itself.

But against Sword Sovereign Zephyrion , she bore unrelenting hatred.

Was only the one who wielded the blade responsible?

If there were those who commanded it, were they not equally culpable?

If she wished to bring down Zephyrion, she would first have to overcome the might of the Akrest Clan.

Even if she built her own forces, the task of defeating their leader—or his heir—would fall squarely upon her shoulders.

The Akrest Clan's carriage came to a halt, and its door opened.

Two figures emerged: a middle-aged man and a young boy.

They were Ebon, the leader of the Akrest Clan, and Theron, his heir.

"You there, are you disciples of Suncrest?"