Chapter 95: Chapter 95

The situation was swiftly resolved.

By the time Hector regained consciousness, the Badniker knights had arrived.

"What in the world?" he exclaimed.

At the forefront stood a familiar face—the vice-captain of the Iron-Blooded Knights. He was a talented man who would likely become the knights' captain now.

Hector pulled him aside to explain the situation.

"A priest, the Young Dark Pope, and a demon king descended here... Young Master Hector, are you serious?" the vice-captain asked.

"I've only relayed what I saw and heard," Hector replied.

"Hah... For such a thing to happen in the Badnikers' domain..." Though reluctant to believe it, the fact that Hector had delivered the news forced him to accept it for now.

Was his skepticism an act? Probably not.

That meant the Badnikers had concealed their vile scheme so thoroughly that even the knights' vice-captain remained unaware.

"It might hurt a little," said the knight tending to me as he staunched the bleeding from my severed arm. "Where is the severed limb?"

"Why? Planning to reattach it?"

I immediately wondered if I should have spoken so informally. However, this knight looked younger than the others, likely no older than me.

"Depending on the condition, yes," he replied.

"If it isn't around here, a demon probably ate it."

"I see. That's unfortunate."

Just then, Hector called out, "Have you seen any of the other hero disciples?"

The vice-captain replied with a grave expression, "The survivors are at the training camp, but few remain unharmed."

"Please follow me first."

We trailed the vice-captain back to camp.

The scene we reached within minutes resembled a war-torn battlefield.

"It hurts... Uh, uhh..."

"G-Gilbert, this isn't the time for jokes..."

"We're running low on potions! Does anyone have any to spare?"

The area around the instructors' building overflowed with the wounded. Knights and what appeared to be servants moved frantically. By contrast, the hero disciples' quarters were eerily quiet. It seemed most of the corpses had been laid there.

Then, I spotted a familiar face among the injured. "Charles."

"Ah." Charles looked at me with a dazed expression.

"What happened?" I asked.

"T-that..." Her voice was ragged.

I had never seen Charles before.

An inexplicable sense of foreboding gripped me as I scanned the surroundings.

Basil, Eddie, Zeros, and Shinba, who must have joined later, were nearby. Fortunately, none of them appeared seriously injured. But one face was missing.

"Where is Mir?" I asked.

Even with her small stature, her blue hair would have stood out even in this dim forest. She should've been easy to spot.

"Mir protected us," Charles murmured, still dazed.

It was then that I realized where Charles' gaze had been fixed. Only then did I see Mir. Among the fallen bodies, there was one corpse with a strikingly small frame.

"Protecting the weak... is what heroes do, right? She did it... in my place."

At that moment, the last words I'd said to Mir flashed in my mind.

"Please take care of them while I'm gone."

"Protecting the weak is what heroes do, right?"

They had been a joke, something to ease Mir's tension. But for Mir, they hadn't been a joke at all. She had taken them to heart, fighting to honor those careless words of mine. Literally, with everything she had.

"I'm unfit to be a hero." Charles' voice trembled with tears, but I had no words in response.

I woke to a soft sensation enveloping my body. Even before I opened my eyes, I knew I was in bed.

Did I pass out? I wondered.

Given how long my condition had been deteriorating, it wasn't surprising.

Even lifting my upper body was a struggle. And it wasn't just because of White Fire's aftereffects.

"You're awake," came a familiar voice beside me. It was Kayan.

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"It is the fourth day.

"That's a long nap," I remarked.

"Your body..." He looked like he wanted to ask if I was alright, but his gaze dropped to my empty right arm. "The family is searching for a high-ranking priest. The Council of Elders is pushing for it aggressively, so you can expect good results."

"I see," I responded calmly and got up.

Every part of my body screamed in protest, but I needed to move.

"Let me help you," Kayan offered.

"No. I'm fine," I refused and moved on my own.

Some light stretching would aid my recovery.

As Kayan watched in silence, he finally spoke. "The Council of Elders has summoned you."

"What do they want now?"

"I'm not sure. But if you're still having trouble moving, you should rest longer. I'll handle it."

I shook my head. "Forget it. When do they want me to go?"

"They said to notify them as soon as you woke up," Kayan answered.

"Then tell them I'm up. In the meantime, I would like to eat something."

"I'll prepare it right away."

Kayan left, and soon a maid brought a hearty stew. Though I barely tasted it, I forced down a few bowls to fill my stomach.

By the time I finished, Kayan had returned. "Master Luan, there's a guest here to see you. In fact, he's been staying at the main house for the past two days."

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It is Sir Dodds Helvin."

I knew that name—it belonged to Evan's father.

Kayan continued, "If you don't want to meet—"

"No," I interrupted. "Where is he?"

"The reception room on the first floor."

"Let's go," I said and headed to the reception room with Kayan.

Walking proved difficult, and halfway there, I finally accepted Kayan's support.

When I opened the door, I found a middle-aged man with a haggard complexion inside.

I'd heard he'd once been a knight, but it was evident that he hadn't kept up with training since retirement. He wasn't overweight, but loose flesh sagged from his frame.

"I am Dodds Helvin. Are you Young Master Luan?" he asked.

"I-I see. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Dodds Hel—"

"You just said that," I cut in.

I was in no state to judge, but this man looked just as bad. He appeared as though he hadn't slept in days. I knew exactly why he was here and seemed so desperate, but I asked anyway, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"T-that... I heard that you were in the same group as my son at the training camp."

"Have you seen Evan by any chance?" he asked.

Shortly after the demon king vanished, Evan disappeared without a trace.

Was Evan dead? Or had he been reborn as the Young Dark Pope? I didn't know at this point.

"Hard to say," I replied flatly.

"I-I see." He hesitated before asking with a determined expression, "Evan's body hasn't been found. He's still missing..."

I waited for him to continue.

"I heard the Badnikers' Butterfly Forest is larger than most territories. Maybe he's hiding there." Dodds looked at me desperately. "Could you perhaps help, Young Master Luan? As you know, an outsider like me can't enter the forest. The power of the Badnikers is needed to search—"

Just then, Kayan cleared his throat pointedly.

Dodds, who had been speaking rapidly, flinched and bowed his head. "I-I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I said. "I'll speak to the Badnikers on your behalf."

"Just don't expect too much," I reminded him.

"Of course! Thank you!" Dodds nodded frantically. If not for the difference in status, he would have likely grabbed my hand in gratitude.

After the brief encounter with Dodds, I headed straight to where the Council of Elders was gathered.

On the way, I asked Kayan, "Do you know anything about Evan?"

"I do." Kayan nodded before asking, "Did something happen to Hero Disciple Evan?"

Hector had informed the vice-captain about the Young Dark Pope, but it seemed he hadn't disclosed Evan's true identity. That meant only a select few within the family knew who Evan really was.

"Who knows?" I then changed the subject. "Anyway, where are we going?"

"Just another reception room," Kayan replied.

"I thought we were meeting the Council of Elders."

"We are. They're already there."

That caught me off guard. I'd expected them to be convening in the Trial Room.

Kayan told me, "We have an honored guest."

He fixed his gaze on me. "It's a Goodspring."

The Goodsprings were powerful enough to rival the Badnikers. Naturally, the two families were not on good terms. In fact, the Goodsprings existed, in part, to keep the Badnikers in check. Perhaps under the influence of the Badnikers' family head, most of their animosity had been redirected toward the Dark Church.

The Goodsprings were different. At their peak, they had wielded enough influence to sway even the imperial family. Power was their paramount value, which made the Badnikers—a family that had risen explosively in recent decades—a thorn in their side.

"Who from the Goodspring family?" I asked.

"It is Sandria Goodspring," Kayan replied.

The name was unfamiliar to me.

As if sensing my confusion, Kayan explained, "She is an elder of the Goodspring family and one of the empire's most powerful elementalists."

Why would someone of her stature seek the Badnikers? And why summon me? Suppressing my doubts, I opened the door to the reception room.

This time, Kayan didn't follow me.

"You've arrived, Luan Badniker."

The room was ten times larger than the one where I'd met Dodds, yet surprisingly sparse. Only three people were present.

First, Agenor Badniker, the chairman of the Council of Elders and de facto family head in the Iron-Blooded Lord's absence.

Next to him was Assad, his seaweed-like hair hanging as usual. He looked more drained than drowsy today, his face worn with fatigue. He offered a small wave, and I bowed in response.

The third was a middle-aged woman with half-gray, half-blonde hair.

Is this Sandria Goodspring?

Once again, I understood why Seren had felt so isolated in her family. Their dispositions were too different to believe they shared the same blood.

Sandria exuded warmth, like a kindly baker, yet something about her unsettled me.

I bowed slightly before taking my seat.

Agenor looked toward Sandria and spoke. "Now that the person in question is here, let's begin."

"Very well." Sandria smiled as she began. "A young lady from our family, who took part in your family's blessing ceremony, has died. So I'll be blunt—how do you intend to make amends?"

"Spare us the mind games, Elder Sandria. We have a signed pledge from Seren Goodspring. It clearly states that regardless of injury—or even death—sustained during the training camp, the Badnikers bear no responsibility." Agenor's voice was even, his expression unreadable. "And yet, the reason we've called you here is simple: to avoid unnecessary trouble."

"Unnecessary trouble?" she echoed.

"Don't feign ignorance. We know your family has been meeting with the families of the hero disciples who attended the training camp."

Sandria didn't deny it.

"Even with the pledge, if multiple families unite under the Goodsprings' banner, we'll face considerable inconvenience. The Badnikers' only enemies are demons and the Dark Church. We've no desire to waste effort elsewhere."

Sandria chuckled, the sound laced with mockery. "As expected of the Badnikers. Still clinging to that noble sense of duty. But Chairman Agenor, let's be clear about one thing."

"What would that be?"

"The pledge covered incidents at the Badnikers' training camp. Yet a daughter of our main family died in the Demon King's Summoning Ritual. Do you truly equate the two?"

She continued, "Not to mention that you failed to detect an infiltrating priest or prevent the Demon King's Summoning Ritual. Frankly, it raises questions."

"What questions?" Agenor demanded.

"Whether the Badnikers truly knew nothing of the plan."

Agenor's face darkened. "Choose your next words carefully, Elder Sandria. Are you accusing us of colluding with the church?"

"Of course not. But your family is so consumed with hunting demons, I wonder if you turned a blind eye to the plan, knowing it might give you the chance to kill a priest," Sandria replied. "And besides, isn't it strange that only the Badniker descendants survived?"

At that, Agenor pointed to me. "Luan nearly died. You saw it yourself—you know it."

Sandria's gaze drifted to my empty right sleeve.

Only then did I realize why Agenor had summoned me. I almost let out a bitter laugh.

Sandria's composure cracked slightly. "Very well. Let's set that aside for now. Since you disdain pointless squabbling, Chairman Agenor, I'll be direct."

"The Goodspring family demands one thing: a one-year suspension of all heroic activities by Badniker members within the Hero Society."

For the first time, Agenor's eyebrows twitched. "Are you in your right mind?"

"Of course I am," she replied smoothly.

Just as Agenor was about to retort, Assad finally spoke. "Accept it. But restrict it to activity reports, not the activities themselves."

"That means—" Follow current novels on Nove1Fire.net

"The Badnikers won't stop hunting church members. Since the Goodsprings only aim to curb our performance, that shouldn't matter, should it?" Assad remarked.

The Great Families' power rankings were determined by their achievement rates within the Hero Society.

The Badnikers had held the top spot for years due to the Iron-Blooded Lord's dominance. A one-year gap could allow not only the Goodsprings but also other families to catch up. Falling behind would mean the Badnikers' influence among the Great Families would weaken—exactly what the Goodsprings wanted.

As expected, a satisfied smile curled her lips. "Since you insist, Archmage Assad, I have no choice but to concede."

The moment I saw that expression, I couldn't help but laugh.

All eyes shifted to me, and Sandria asked, "Young Master of the Badniker family, what is so amusing?"

"Who knows?" I shrugged. "But since you're indulging me, Elder Sandria, I have a question."

"What was your relationship with Seren?"

Sandria blinked before replying, "Within the family, I was her godmother. Personally, I was her great-aunt."

I studied the self-proclaimed great-aunt and stated, "And yet, you haven't even asked how she died. I thought that's why you summoned me here."

I knew I had no right to speak in such a setting, but listening to their conversation made me feel like I was losing my mind.

I stood up. "If you have no business with me, I'll take my leave."

I should have at least bowed, but I had no desire to show courtesy to these repulsive old creatures. Thus, I strode out of the room.

As I walked down the hallway, a figure blocked my path. "You've got a temper."

It was Assad. Though I'd just seen him in the room, his presence here didn't particularly surprise me.

"Did you need something?" I asked.

"Then I'll be going. My body's in terrible shape."

"You?" Assad asked. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"

Just as I thought that, curiosity got the better of me. "Where is the family head now?"

"He isn't in the main house."

The Iron-Blooded Lord's whereabouts were top secret, but if anyone had a decent idea, it would be Assad. If he said that, it was probably true.

I gave a slight nod and turned to leave, but his voice followed me. "In any case, I'm glad you survived, Luan."

The moment I heard those words, I stopped in my tracks. Glad I survived?

It hit me like a blow to the back of the head. A numb, tingling shock surged through my body.

I returned to my room. Despite the bed, I sprawled on the floor, staring up at the gaudy chandelier that adorned the ceiling.

"In any case, I'm glad you survived, Luan."

It was true. I had survived.

My master had foreseen my death, yet I defied it, carving a different outcome.

Did that mean I succeeded? Not at all.

I knew my condition. My mind teetered on the edge.

The Badnikers had condoned the deaths of dozens to kill a priest. Meanwhile, even after one of their descendants died, the Goodsprings only cared about profit.

Then there were the faces of Dodds Helvin, longing for his son's survival, and Charles Rubieta, staring at Mir's lifeless body.

The image of Seren, left alone in the forest during winter, also lingered in my mind.

Had I truly survived? No. This was merely clinging to life. I hadn't seized life with my own hands—I was just barely breathing.

At the very least, this wasn't living as a martial artist should.

Fury burned at my own wretchedness. I'd strutted through this second chance as if I could control everything, and this was the result. A pitiful outcome that made me want to pummel myself senseless.

Conversely, would anything have been different if I'd done my best?

This wasn't an excuse. I had given my all during the training camp, staying vigilant and pushing my limits.

Yet the walls between me, the priest, and the demon king loomed too high. No amount of training could bridge the gap for the fifteen-year-old Luan Badniker.

Even if given another chance, could I have altered anything? A hollow laugh nearly escaped me.

Maybe it was presumptuous, but I started to doubt my master's intentions. If my death had been the future my master had foreseen, then was this outcome what he had hoped for?

Just this miserable result? Dozens of hero disciples had died, but I was alive, and the priest was dead.

Did Bai Luguang, the First Under Heaven, truly think that way?

I reunited with Bai Luguang in my memories. My master smiled faintly at me, and somehow, it looked like one of satisfaction.

Dumbfounded, I demanded, "What is so satisfying to you?"

However, my master in my memory only grinned and said, "Have you realized that your best wasn't enough?"

"Have you found a desire you must fulfill?"

As I answered inwardly, I stared at him, bewildered.

Is this actually... a memory?

"If so, Youngest Disciple—as of today, you have entered the martial world."

Then, an unexpected voice echoed in my mind.

—The conditions have been met.

It was a voice I recognized—one I had heard before, in the world beyond the mirror, during the blessing ceremony.

—The Spirit Mountain's Blessing has been activated.

Suddenly, the vision in front of me spun. The surrounding landscape melted like watercolor, and a blinding light filled my vision.

I blinked, disoriented, and it took me a moment to adjust to the light.

Before my sight fully returned, the familiar air hit my lungs first. Gradually, my vision cleared, revealing a place I knew well—a mysterious place shrouded in mist, a rugged mountain peak where not even a blade of grass could be found.

There, I saw someone standing in that barren landscape. "Master?"

Had Bai Luguang summoned me again?

The moment I spoke, a distinctive voice echoed, one I knew all too well. "Is it you, Youngest Disciple?"

"Fourth Senior Brother?" I exclaimed.

It was Senior Brother Arang, the fourth disciple of Bai Luguang, the First Under Heaven.

He looked at me and commented, "You are finally here."