The Cunning Treasure Hunter

"Are you seriously trying to use that as a justification to convince a Harmony?" Aiden's voice was calm, yet there was a sharp edge to his words.

"Ha… Didn't I say it was a difficult thing to bring up? Must you really push this far?" Darius Storm replied, his tone growing increasingly defensive.

"Do you know why I'm wandering as a guest disciple right now?" Aiden asked, folding his arms casually.

"Why is that…?" Darius ventured, his voice hesitant.

"To find children with potential," Aiden stated simply.

Despite Aiden's directness, the glint in Darius Storm's eyes did not waver. It was the desperate gleam of a man yearning for power, grasping at whatever means he could find. Ignoring Aiden, his gaze shifted to Vera. His silent signal was clear. His guards began to move.

"…Don't do anything you'll regret, Clan Head," Aiden warned, his voice low, but Darius Storm paid no heed.

"How could I dare to offend a distinguished Harmony of the Suncrest Sect like yourself?" Darius replied, his tone laced with mock humility.

"Then why are your armed men approaching?" Aiden asked, his sharp gaze sweeping toward the advancing guards.

"They're just…" Darius trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "I simply thought that disobedient girl could use a lesson."

At that moment, one of the guards lunged toward Vera, his hand reaching out to snatch the sword she clutched tightly. His agility was impressive, his movements swift and practiced—a display of advanced lightfoot techniques. Unlike Darius, this man knew exactly what the girl was holding: the Falling Blossom Sword.

Unlike Darius's greedy, untrained eyes, the guard understood the blade's reputation among martial artists. It was the "unsheathable blade," a relic many deemed worthless. After all, what use was a sword that could not be drawn? This confidence made him careless.

He assumed the blade would remain unsheathable, as it always had.

Shhrrk—

The sound of a blade slicing through flesh silenced the courtyard. Without hesitation, Vera had severed the man's arm vertically. The Falling Blossom Sword gleamed darkly in her hands, its black blade sliding smoothly from its scabbard in a single, fluid motion.

Her upward slash was flawless—elegant and precise. Though she had used no discernible martial technique, the execution left no room for critique. Blood sprayed across her clothes and face, painting a gruesome portrait. The man crumpled to the ground, clutching his mangled arm, while Vera remained unmoved, her expression devoid of pity.

"…The Central Plains is a land where debts and grudges are paid in full, isn't it, my lord?" Vera asked, her voice steady and cold.

"Yes. It is that kind of place," Aiden replied, his tone calm as ever.

"Then, if I were to measure the value of this debt, would it be acceptable for me to take this man's head?" Vera inquired, her tone devoid of hesitation.

The scabbard she had discarded moments ago lay on the ground. She bent down, retrieved it, and fastened it to her waist. Though the long sword seemed oversized for her petite frame, Vera wielded it with ease. She flicked her wrist, shaking the blood from the blade in a practiced motion.

Aiden glanced at the injured guard. The man's forearm, split cleanly between the index and middle fingers, left him incapable of wielding a weapon ever again. His career as a martial artist was effectively over—a punishment harsh enough to satisfy justice.

"If you take his head, his comrades and family will hunt you down," Aiden said evenly.

"That would be troublesome," Vera replied, tilting her head slightly.

"Then leave him. He can't harm you further."

"Understood," she said, lowering her blade.

It was the first lesson Aiden imparted to her as her master.

"Well? Does anyone else wish to try?" Aiden asked, his gaze sweeping over the remaining guards.

The courtyard was silent. The single slash had been enough for Aiden to gauge Vera's skill. Though her cultivation level was not high, her mastery of the blade spoke volumes. At the very least, she was on the threshold of the Peak Stage—an extraordinary achievement for someone her age.

Fourteen years old. A girl who had spent over four years without proper training. Yet, despite her malnourished frame and lack of resources, she had wielded the Falling Blossom Sword with uncanny precision. Aiden knew then: he had found a rare gem—a disciple worthy of his guidance.

Meanwhile, Darius Storm stood frozen in place, his expression a mix of shock and fear. Bloodshed was clearly not what he had anticipated. His darting eyes betrayed his frantic calculations, but all thoughts of negotiation ceased when Vera's cold gaze met his.

"Clan Head," Vera said, her voice sharp and commanding.

In her hands, the long sword gleamed ominously, its tip still dripping with blood. Instinctively, Darius stumbled backward.

"Whether you let me leave peacefully or not, I am already part of the martial world," Vera declared.

"Such… arrogance…" Darius muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

"And in the martial world, grudges are paid in full," she continued.

The energy coursing through her small frame was not entirely her own, but she unleashed it with startling intensity. The atmosphere shifted. All other scents in the Storm Clan's estate were eclipsed by a single, overwhelming aroma.

The intoxicating fragrance of Cherry blossoms filled the courtyard, richer and more vibrant than anything found in the orchards of Suncrest Sect. Vera's long black hair billowed as her unleashed energy surged outward, amplifying her presence.

"If you wish to make me your enemy, then do so," she said, her voice laced with an icy finality.

The sword in her hand rose, its tip pointed directly at Darius Storm's throat. The innate killing intent of the Celestial Blade Star radiated from the blade's edge, sharp enough to sting the skin of anyone nearby.

In that moment, Darius realized the truth: with a single strike, this girl could sever his head.

"…Leave. Just… leave. I will let you go…" he stammered, his voice trembling.

Only then did Vera sheath her blade. The tension in her small frame gave way as she collapsed, coughing up blood. The overwhelming energy she had unleashed had taken its toll.

"Damn it," Aiden muttered, rushing to catch her frail body.

Her breath was shallow, her complexion pale. Aiden quickly assessed her condition—her meridians were damaged. The vast energy within her was clearly inherited, not cultivated. It was power she could wield but not control.

'So this is why she never dared to leave this place until now,' Aiden thought grimly. He sighed, blaming himself for allowing her to unleash such reckless force. Her swordsmanship far outpaced her cultivation realm—an imbalance he hadn't anticipated.

"Is there a doctor here?" Aiden demanded.

"Down the alley… But are you really planning to take her with you?" Darius asked weakly.

"Clan Head, didn't you promise to let her go?" Aiden reminded him, his frown deepening.

"That's…"

Darius hesitated, clearly frustrated. Losing Vera, the daughter of the Bloomspire Sect, was a bitter blow. But the weight of Suncrest Sect's name crushed any argument he might have had.

"Ah… Fine. Take her. Take her already," Darius relented. "But… about the silver taels…"

"I never agreed to any payment," Aiden replied curtly.

"Ah…"

Without another word, Aiden stepped out of the courtyard, carrying Vera with him, leaving the dumbfounded Darius Storm behind.