"I’ve found it!" Emma’s voice was steady, carrying quiet satisfaction as she raised the ancient scroll, its edges weathered but shimmering with faint runic light. "The Alchemy Formula for the Foundation Establishment Pill."
When Lordi and Donovan turned to her, she met their gazes with composed certainty. "If Lordi succeeds in refining the pill and produces three, I respectfully request one. Should the alchemy quantity be fewer, I’ll forgo my share—but in exchange, I ask for a copy of the alchemy formula and fair compensation in Spirit $tones." Her terms were deliberate, not a challenge but a prudent measure—ensuring she wouldn’t be left vulnerable in the vault’s treacherous stakes.
Donovan gave a sharp, dismissive nod. "Agreed."
No wasted words. No hesitation. His attention snapped back to the scrolls of cultivation techniques, fingers already unrolling the next parchment with predatory focus. Every second counted—his mind raced, devouring esoteric diagrams and cryptic mantras, etching them into memory before time ran out.
Lordi echoed the sentiment. "No issue here."
Emma Dawson exhaled a quiet breath of relief, her heart still racing from the tense standoff in the Hanz clan’s treasure vault. Though she stood at the Eighth Layer of Qi Refinement Stage, her earlier encounters had proven that Lordi Payne, a mere Seventh Layer cultivator, could match or even surpass her in combat. The realization stung, marking her as the weakest among the trio. The Treasury House’s oppressive air, heavy with the scent of ancient power and the faint, eerie fragrance of its azure wood shelves, seemed to tighten around her, amplifying her vulnerability.
If Donovan and Lordi turned against her, she’d be helpless, unable to flee or appeal to the Sword of Red Run for justice. The thought of dying in this shadowed chamber, her fate left to the mercy of two cunning sect comrades, sent a chill through her.
Emma couldn’t rely on the devil sword’s judgment; its earlier gullibility, so easily swayed by their deception to grant entry to the Treasury House, proved this psychosis sword spirit lacked the sharpness to discern truth from lies. If Donovan and Lordi killed her, they could likely spin a tale to placate the Sword Born, leaving her death unavenged. The vault’s night pearls cast a cold, ghostly light, their glow twisting the shadows into spectral forms that seemed to whisper of betrayal.
Emma’s relief came only when Donovan and Lordi agreed to her terms for the Foundation Establishment Pill’s Alchemy Formula. The heavy weight in her chest eased slightly, though she remained wary. She endured the estate’s horrors, no way for her only to leave the Treasury House empty-handed. While she had no immediate need for the Foundation Establishment Pill, her beloved senior brother, Rodney Luther, stood on the cusp of breaching to Foundation Stage, and securing an elixir pill for him was her priority. The vault’s eerie ambiance seemed to pulse with her resolve, urging her to seize this chance.
Lordi fought to keep his face impassive as the AllFullOS System’s shrill chimes clawed at his focus—
Ding!~ Ding!~ Ding!~ Ding!~ Ding!~ Ding!~ ...
~ Ding! *System Notification Chime*
[AllFullOS: Version 1.0.0]
> Detected external data.
~ Ding! *System Notification Chime*
[AllFullOS: Version 1.0.0]
> Detected external data.
—each notification a needle driving deeper into his concentration. He exhaled through his nose, steadying himself.
"I’m only at the Seventh Layer of Qi Refinement," he admitted, shrugging with deliberate nonchalance. "Senior Brother Valdez isn’t wrong—breaching to Foundation Stage is a mountain I’ve yet to climb." A wry smile. "So why squabble over a peak when the foothills are rich with opportunity?"
His gaze swept the room, lingering on the scattered alchemy materials and glittering spirit stones. "I’d rather gather what’s within my reach. Spirit $tones, reagents—things that won’t invite... complications." He tilted his head, feigning humility. "Unless, of course, you esteemed seniors have objections?"
The question hung, deceptively light. Beneath the surface, his mind raced—calculating their reactions, measuring their greed. Every word was a misdirection, a smokescreen to veil the truth.
Both Donovan and Emma felt a flicker of disdain.
"Short-sighted fool," they sneered inwardly.
In the holy sect, with enough Spirit $tones, one could buy any raw materials, rare herbs the Hanz Clan Treasury House held. However, elevating the cultivation strength was the surest path to wealth. This moron Junior Brother’s fixation on collecting raw materials, ignoring the rare Cultivation Insights of Foundation Establishment, a typical novice’s blunder.
Did he believe such opportunities to view Cultivation Insights came often?
When he reached the Ninth Layer, would desperate for having a peek on these insights, he’d rue his choice.
Lordi had no idea about what they’re thinking. Soon he filled his storage pouch to bursting, heedless of the materials’ identities or values. Well, to be honest, his knowledge of the cultivation world was too limited, but he trusted that anything preserved in such a Treasury House belonging to a cultivation family that once very neared to Core Formation Stage was invaluable.
He stuffed unrecoginized herbs, ores, and Spirit $tones into his robe sack, sleeves pocket, and even inside his boots, his movements frantic, like a greedy mortal grasping treasures before a calamity raining down.
As all his sacks about to reach theirs limit, the Sword of Red Run’s steel voice thundered from outside, cold and commanding.
"Your time is up! Come out now!"
The words reverberated through the vault, a chilling reminder of the blade’s lethal authority, its crimson eyes waiting to judge their worth.
The trio burst from the Treasury House and leapt into the night, boots striking the weathered planks of the waterfront with a heavy thud. Their robes sagged under the weight of their plunder—pockets swollen, storage pouches straining at the seams, sacks slung over their shoulders. Yet no triumph lightened their steps. Instead, a cold dread coiled in their chests, each breath sharp as a blade’s edge.
Above the still, black waters of Water Lily Lake, the Sword of Red Run hung in the air, its crimson glow bleeding across the surface like spilled wine. The moonlight, once silver and serene, twisted beneath its influence, warping into something jagged and cruel. Then—the blade shuddered. A ripple split its form, birthing a twin from its malevolent core. Two identical swords now hovered, their razor points unerringly fixed upon Donovan and Lordi, as if death itself had taken aim.
The Sword of Red Run’s blade trembled with barely restrained hunger, its crimson eyes boring into them like hot nails.
"Nowww," it purred, its voice oscillating between a child’s pout and something far older, far hungrier, "tell me who my real master is." The words slithered out, dripping with years of madness.
"Fail to explain clearly..." The sword’s tip traced a lazy circle around their throats, "...and I take two meals tonight."
The sword’s crimson eyes gleamed, hungry for truth or blood, as the trio stood frozen, the estate’s horrors closing in around them.