The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Vera remained unconscious for seven full days. During that time, Aiden never left her side, carefully monitoring her condition to ensure it didn't deteriorate. Though her cultivation technique differed from his own, it shared the same foundational roots, which allowed him to aid her recovery.

Disciples of the Suncrest Sect practiced a singular foundational technique: the Sutra of the Pristine Spirit. This cultivation art, celebrated for its purity and spiritual depth, was regarded as one of the finest, rivaling the methods of the Silverwind Monastery and the Sacred Flame Sect. Vera's Eternal Blossom Sutra, while a branch technique, also stemmed from the same origin. Though not identical, it bore enough similarities for Aiden to stabilize her damaged meridians.

"…She's been lying there for quite a while," muttered the old physician as he examined her.

Inherited energy, four years of interrupted cultivation, and improperly circulated Qi—then the reckless, desperate release of all that power. Her malnourished, fragile body simply couldn't withstand such a strain.

"She'll need at least a month of hot meat soup to recover," the physician said, shaking his head as he glanced at Aiden.

"I can afford that much," Aiden replied.

"Don't worry," the physician added. "She'll wake up soon."

"Are you certain?" Aiden asked, his voice calm but with a hint of concern.

As if in response, a faint groan escaped Vera's lips.

"…Ugh… ahh… uuugh…"

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a groggy and unfocused gaze. She frowned slightly, as though her head pounded with pain, and weakly propped herself up into a sitting position.

"Are you alright, Vera?" Aiden asked gently, his voice calm but filled with genuine concern.

The sound of her name startled her. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she flinched, her shoulders trembling.

"…Why are you so startled?" Aiden asked.

"Ah… I… it's you, my lord," she stammered, her voice soft and uncertain. "I had a bad dream…"

"What kind of dream?" he asked, leaning slightly closer.

"…It was that day's dream. I have it often. It's nothing unusual," she replied, averting her gaze.

Her tone was steady, but her words carried a weight that belied her youth. For Vera, the dream was indeed nothing unusual—but the memories it brought were anything but ordinary. To relive the sight of her father's beheading and her mother's hanging every night… it was a torment no child should endure.

"Have you ever gone a night without that dream?" Aiden asked after a moment of silence.

"Unfortunately, no," she admitted.

"Find a way to overcome it," he suggested.

Vera pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "No, my lord. I won't look for a solution."

"Can I ask why?" Aiden probed, his voice calm but firm.

"If I stop dreaming of them…" Vera paused, her dark eyes trembling as tears began to well up at their corners. The stoic mask she always wore seemed to crack under the weight of emotion. "…I'm afraid I'll forget their faces."

Aiden didn't speak. Instead, he reached out and patted her small back gently. Vera hesitated, her pride holding her back, but eventually, she leaned into him. Suppressed sobs spilled out as she clung to the moment of solace.

Despite her lineage, her inherited power, and the star under which she was born, Vera was still just a fourteen-year-old girl. The Celestial Blade Star might have marked her for greatness, but it had also burdened her with unimaginable grief.

"I… don't want to forget them," she whispered between sobs.

"Then cry as much as you need to," Aiden said softly.

For years, Vera had survived on scraps, enduring day after day in the Storm Clan as nothing more than a maid. Once the cherished daughter of a wealthy branch sect, she had lost everything in an instant. Until this moment, she had never allowed herself the vulnerability of crying in front of anyone.

Only when her tears finally stopped did Vera sit back, her thin shoulders rising and falling with exhaustion. Aiden handed her a bowl of medicinal broth he had prepared earlier.

"Drink this," he instructed.

"This is…?" she asked, looking at the bowl in her hands.

"You need to regain your strength. It's a tonic made with deer antler," Aiden explained. The concoction had cost him dearly, stretching his limited funds for the journey back to Suncrest Sect.

"…Thank you, my lord," Vera said, her voice soft but sincere.

"Good. Have you learned any lightfoot techniques?" Aiden asked, his tone shifting to a more practical focus.

"I… learned a little," she replied hesitantly, her uncertainty evident. Whatever she had learned was likely from her childhood, with no proper training since.

"I'll teach you the Silent Cherry Steps. It consumes little energy and won't strain your body," Aiden said, his tone reassuring.

"…You truly mean to become my master, don't you, my lord?" Vera asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Did you think I was joking?" Aiden chuckled, reaching out to pat her head gently. The warmth of his palm was foreign but comforting.

"…I will learn diligently, my lord," Vera promised.

"And yet you refuse to call me 'Master,' even now," Aiden noted with a wry smile.

"Shouldn't Suncrest Sect accept me first?" she countered sharply.

It was a fair point. No matter how much Aiden claimed her as his disciple, it would mean little if the sect rejected her. Her origins alone posed a significant problem.

"They will accept you," Aiden said confidently.

"You sound very sure of yourself, my lord," Vera remarked.

"The Great Master Thorne will take a liking to you," Aiden assured her.

Thorne, the senior elder of Suncrest Sect and Aiden's own master, was a man known for his unyielding belief that talent must never go untaught. Aiden himself had experienced that firsthand, having once been deemed talentless by others.

"…Then I suppose that's fortunate," Vera said quietly.

"How are your meridians?" Aiden asked.

"I'm fine now," she replied.

"You'd better be. I've gone to great lengths to stabilize them," Aiden said with a faint shrug as he handed the physician half a tael of silver.

"That's quite generous for a doctor's fee," the physician remarked with a chuckle.

"Take it before I change my mind," Aiden replied curtly.

The physician laughed, waving as he left to gather herbs. "Close the door if you leave," he called over his shoulder.

"Now, let's prepare ourselves," Aiden said, turning back to Vera.

"I don't need much to prepare…" she began.

"You do," Aiden interrupted, pulling a black martial robe and a pair of shoes from his bundle. He handed them to her. "Are you planning to walk all the way to Silver Crest in maid's clothing?"

The question left Vera silent. She took the robe without complaint, knowing he was right.

The world was cruel, granting power even to the wicked. The Celestial Blade Star was proof of that—a star that blessed its bearers with unnatural talent for martial arts. Yet, for all their gifts, those born under its influence often bore burdens far heavier than most.

"…You're learning surprisingly quickly," Aiden remarked as Vera began practicing her new steps.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she replied, her voice sharp and clear, matching his tone.