The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Chapter 78 Bonds Forged in Steel and Ice

Nearly a month had passed since Elise and her brother settled at Iron Fist Sect. During that time, Elise had fully recovered her original inner energy and began training with her brother to control it. The two decided to stay in Iron Fist Sect, thanks to the generosity of Abbot Gregory, who had granted them refuge.

"If I send them away now, the same tragedy might repeat itself," the abbot had reasoned. Thus, he permitted them to remain until they were strong enough to fend for themselves.

Meanwhile, Marcus had completely recovered. Master Nathaniel's mastery of the Transcendent Wisdom Sutra was unparalleled; he had eradicated even the deepest killing intent that had seeped into Marcus's body. However, a thin scar remained just below his solar plexus—a scar precisely matching the width of the blade that had pierced him. When Vera saw it, she was stricken with guilt. Yet, Marcus only smiled and called it his badge of honor.

"Isn't it a mark of pride, Vera? A scar I earned as your elder brother while protecting my junior sister."

And now, it was the last night of their stay at Iron Fist Sect. Everything they could resolve had been settled. Sev and Elise's futures were now in their own hands. Even the matters of Bloodshadow Pavilion—while destined to resurface in Akrest—were as resolved as they could be for the time being.

Only one thing remained.

"...Alright."

Within the quiet solitude of her chamber, Vera sat cross-legged. Following the incantation of the Soul Harmony Realm Technique, she began to weave her thoughts into focus. She channeled her inner energy, guiding it along the meticulously memorized pathways of her body's meridians. Cultivation breathing techniques were the foundation of her art.

Vera could not forget what she had absorbed during the blood-soaked battle. Something had entered her—a presence that surged her inner energy beyond her capacity. Though she had quickly sealed it away, she knew the time had come to examine herself.

As her consciousness sank into the depths of her mental landscape, she found herself standing before the familiar surface of a vast, tranquil lake. Above her, a lone star shone brightly in the heavens—a single, unyielding light.

North Star's Breaking Light, the last star of the Big Dipper, burned brilliantly.

Beneath its glow, Black Dragon lay curled in deep slumber.

As soon as her foot touched the water's edge, the beast stirred, its eyes snapping open. In an instant, it bounded toward her, knocking her over with playful enthusiasm and showering her face with licks.

"Enough...!" Vera protested.

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She didn't dislike it, knowing full well the beast would vanish upon waking. Still, being drenched in its saliva was far from pleasant. She scooped up some water from the lake to rinse her face before using the dragon's soft fur to dry off.

"...You've grown a lot," she muttered, marveling at its size.

The Black Dragon had grown so large that her arms could no longer wrap around its neck. The creature had now fully embraced its role as a divine beast, exuding a towering presence worthy of its name.

"You've devoured the killing intent and malice that seeped into me, haven't you?"

The dragon nodded solemnly, and Vera stroked its chin, her fingers tracing the curve of its sleek horns. It leaned closer, resting its massive head on her lap, clearly asking for more attention.

Without hesitation, Vera obliged, gently running her fingers through its fur. Her thoughts, however, drifted to the truth of her existence.

Celestial Blade Star—a cursed destiny, a fate to bring mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

Vera had long sought the truth of her identity, even before the fall of Bloomspire Sect Gate. She was said to be born with:

An innate thirst for bloodshed.A cruel and remorseless nature.An unmatched talent for wielding weapons.

The world of martial arts believed that a Celestial Blade Star grew stronger with each kill but became increasingly consumed by madness, an unrelenting cycle of blood and strength.

Yet, Vera had never felt the bloodlust described. She wasn't cruel, nor was she devoid of emotion.

"Why, then...?"

She thought back to the gruesome battlefield. There, amidst rivers of blood and slaughter, something within her had awakened—a monster slumbering deep in her soul. It was a primal, instinctual creature. For the first time, she had felt it:

The urge to kill.The temptation of cruelty.

"Yes, Elder. We'll be ready shortly," Marcus replied respectfully.

"Ensure everything is in order within the hour. Otherwise, you may have the opportunity to test the durability of that tent yourself," Valen remarked dryly before turning to leave.

For a moment, his gaze lingered on Vera.

Something about her presence had shifted—a sharpness, an aura of strength. A true weapon need not flaunt its edge to command respect, and her current demeanor carried such weight.

"Could it be...?"

The elder clicked his tongue in disbelief and shook his head. He dismissed the thought as absurd.

"There's no way she's already at the threshold of the Sublime Realm."

Under the Plaque of Iron Fist Sect.

The group stood ready to depart. The disciples and monks of Iron Fist Sect had gathered to bid them farewell.

"You're leaving so soon," muttered Arther, a touch of regret in his tone. He had grown close to Ethan during their time together, as had many other monks.

"I'll miss sparring with you, but we'll meet again someday," Arther said.

"When we do, I'll be even stronger," Ethan responded with a confident smirk.

"You'll probably end up getting whacked with a monk's wooden staff again," Arther teased.

"Urgh..." Ethan winced at the memory.

After the Healing Stream Hall incident, Master Nathaniel had unexpectedly allowed Ethan and Arther to spar freely. Their fierce duels had become a source of mutual growth, pushing both to the limits of their abilities.

The once-tentative juniors had ascended to the threshold of the Sublime Realm, their clashes sharpening their talents.

Even Marcus had benefited greatly. While he hadn't received the elusive Golden Bodhi Elixir, the month-long guidance of Master Nathaniel's profound internal energy technique had fortified his meridians.

As for Vera, her transformation was undeniable. Everyone present felt it—the sharpened presence, the undeniable weight of her aura.

"Vera," a voice called out, halting her steps.

It was Sev, who approached with a small object in his hands—a dagger no longer than one used for peeling fruit.

"This is a token of my oath," he said, extending the blade toward her.

"A token...?" Vera asked, tilting her head as she accepted the gift.

It was clear at a glance that the dagger bore the craftsmanship of Northern Ice Palace . Though Sev was from a side branch, this weapon undoubtedly symbolized his lineage.

"This is a blade forged from Ten Thousand-Year Cold Iron," he explained.

The crowd gasped. Ten Thousand-Year Cold Iron was as rare as Heavenly Meteorite Steel, a material of legendary durability and unmatched value.

"Call upon me whenever you need a friend," he said earnestly.

"Thank you," Vera replied, bowing deeply as she tucked the dagger away.

The monks of Iron Fist Sect pressed their palms together in farewell, while Sev and Elise bowed low.

It was a quiet yet heartfelt parting—a farewell not to sever ties, but to strengthen them.