The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Resentment breeds obsession.

Obsession fuels determination.

This was the fundamental truth of the world that Aiden had learned through countless trials and struggles.

Neither he nor his disciples were exceptions to this rule.

One suffers a loss, leading to the decision for revenge.

The dead cannot return, so the only option left is to make the enemy experience the same agony.

And so, Aiden gathered his disciples, one by one.

However, Marcus was different.

He wasn't someone he had personally chosen.

He was a disciple entrusted to him.

"...Why bring up my past again?"

"Do you remember the promise I made that day?"

"...I remember."

Marcus closed his eyes quietly.

Even now, the memory of that day was vivid.

It was a night of pouring rain.

Back then, Marcus was just a child, too young to understand much of anything.

But even a child could sense the heavy storm looming over his household.

That storm...

Took the form of a sharp, merciless blade.

Even now, Marcus could recall that night with terrifying clarity.

A guesthouse does not have the luxury of choosing its patrons.

Even more so when the only reason for suspicion is a masked face.

And if that masked individual carries a sword at their waist, then turning them away becomes even less of an option.

Marcus's parents ran a small guesthouse along a long, desolate road where no nearby villages existed.

They sold nothing but steamed dumplings and cheap liquor.

Wealthy travelers would never stop here, no matter how hungry or thirsty they were.

One dawn, a masked man appeared at their doorstep.@@novelbin@@

He merely requested a plate of dumplings and a bottle of cheap baekju, a type of liquor).

His request was polite, and Marcus's parents, without question, served him.

Masked warriors were not an unusual sight in the martial world.

There was no reason to believe this time would be any different.

The faint scent of blood lingered in the air, but warriors often carried the stench of death.

Whether they fought for justice or not, swordsmen were always drenched in blood.

The man quietly finished his meal, paid the exact amount, and left.

Just another ordinary day.

Except for the arrival of Martial World warriors at dawn.

"Was it you?"

The warriors were mounted on horseback.

Whenever the so-called 'high lords' visited a lowly place like this, trouble always followed.

Knowing this all too well, the couple hid their child away.

"W-what do you mean...?"

"Yesterday. A man matching this description came through here, didn't he?"

One of the warriors unfurled a scroll, revealing a sketched portrait.

No one in this world was truly featureless.

A person could always be identified by their hair color, their eyes, their build—even if their face was hidden by a mask.

Marcus's parents immediately recognized the man.

"H-he went that way!"

"So, he passed through here?"

The father nodded frantically.

"Yes. He stopped by last night, ate some dumplings, drank cheap liquor, and left in a hurry. We have no involvement—none at all!"

But the warrior was not convinced.

"No involvement?"

"N-none at all...!"

"The bounty for this man was posted across the entire city. And yet, you recognized him and still served him food?"

At that moment, a shiver ran down the spines of Marcus, his mother, and his father.

The warrior's hand moved to his waist.

A cold, gleaming blade emerged.

And with it, a burst of sword energy.

"You're all accomplices."

"That day, Master, you made a promise to me."

"Indeed."

"You vowed to give me the chance to avenge my parents."

Marcus clenched his fists tightly.

But he soon realized how difficult that would be.

Their enemies were none other than the Unity Forces, an elite force under the Martial World Unity— warriors commanded by Sword Sovereign Zephyrion Akrest, the strongest man in the Nine Provinces.

For a mere master, a second-generation disciple of Mount Suncrest Sect, to claim they could create such an opportunity? It was absurd.

And yet, Aiden trained him earnestly.

And Marcus followed that teaching with unwavering dedication.

If, by chance—just by chance—the world fell into chaos again…

If the Unity's power and influence began to waver…

If an era of turmoil arose…

Then, and only then, would revenge become possible.

Even if that opportunity never came in his lifetime, Marcus was determined to keep moving forward.

One never knows when an opportunity will present itself.

And if the chance were to arrive, only for him to be too weak to seize it…

What could be more frustrating than that?

"...But why are you bringing this up now?"

"You already know the answer," Aiden replied. "For you to achieve your goal, the world must descend into chaos."

"Yes. But right now, the Martial World Unity is far too dominant."

"...That chaos will come soon."

As Aiden met Marcus's gaze, he instinctively knew that his master wasn't simply making baseless claims.

Though it was mere speculation, her tone carried absolute certainty.

"...How can you be so sure?"

"Because we are raising a dragon to tear the heavens apart."

"'We'? Who exactly is 'we'?"

Marcus's eyes narrowed.

A slight smirk tugged at Aiden's lips.

"Reverse Heaven Unity. Led by myself and Aria."

"Reverse Heaven Unity...?"

"A faction born to shatter the gilded sky."

Mount Suncrest Sect, Scarlet Crown Chamber.

A place only the Sect Leader and those granted permission could enter.

At its center stood Gideon and Magnus.

Or rather, the Demonic Cult's Young Lord—who had taken over Magnus's body.

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"...Quite an impressive setup you have here."

"It serves as the Sect Leader's residence, after all. So, tell me…"

The Sect Leader absentmindedly tapped the hilt of his sword, his eyes narrowing.

He was currently negotiating with the resurrected Young Lord of the Demonic Cult.

He understood the gravity of the situation.

And the topic of their discussion…

A plot to rebel against Sword Sovereign Zephyrion Akrest, the current ruler of the Martial World Unity.

A conspiracy to bring about an era of turmoil and establish a new supreme ruler.

It was impossible not to feel anxious.

"How do you intend to proceed?"

"No need to be so impatient. Also, that sword… it's a fake, isn't it?"

"…You recognize the Heavenly Night Scorching Sword?"

"How could I not? I've been struck by it before."

The Young Lord chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly.

Relaxed. Unbothered.

Despite being in the heart of Mount Suncrest Sect, one of the most prestigious Harmony martial schools and an archenemy of the Demonic Cult, he remained utterly at ease.

It was unsettling.

Gideon silently took a seat.

Just as he thought the conversation had reached its limit—

The Young Lord gestured toward a cabinet.

At the flick of his fingers, the cabinet door rattled and swung open.

"…What is this?"

"The real one is here."

The true Heavenly Night Scorching Sword.

A divine relic permitted only to the Sect Leader of Mount Suncrest.

The Young Lord smirked but didn't touch it.

He already knew what would happen if he did.

Sensing the presence of powerful demonic energy, the Heavenly Night Scorching Sword began to hum faintly.

Gideon grasped it, but…

It still wouldn't unsheathe.

The hum did not subside.

There was only one solution.

"…It must be stored elsewhere."

"You must have dug quite a few holes in that tiny mountain of yours."

"Shut it. Instead of running your mouth, focus on how you plan to kill the Sword Sovereign."

"You already know the answer."

The Young Lord slowly rose from his seat.

Indeed, Gideon did know.

To slay Sword Sovereign Zephyrion Akrest, a man said to stand at the pinnacle of swordsmanship, there was only one way.

They had to revive the only man who had ever defeated Zephyrion Akrest in a one-on-one battle—

A warrior who had once brought terror upon the entire world.

The Demonic Cult's Supreme Leader.

The Heavenly Demon.

"…And how can I trust that you won't turn on us after reviving your leader?"

"You can't."

The Young Lord grinned.

A sinister, eerie smile spread across Magnus's face—a smile Magnus himself would never have made.

It was chilling.

"Our agreement only extends to killing Zephyrion Akrest. After that, we each fend for ourselves, Sect Leader."

He lowered his head slightly, locking eyes with Gideon.

Blazing, intense eyes.

He had already broken free.

He had reclaimed a body.

He could no longer be stopped.

"We are the Demonic Cult. You are the Harmony martial schools. A battle between us is inevitable. But first, you wish to be the supreme ruler of this crumbling world… And what happens after that is entirely up to you."

"…So that's how it is."

"Of course."

The Young Lord leaned back against the chair, resting his elbow on the armrest.

His eyes were no longer those of Magnus.

They were the gleaming, crimson eyes of a beast.

Gideon quietly studied him before letting out a faint chuckle.

Then, he sat across from him.

"Indeed. You are of the Demonic Cult, and I am of the Harmony martial schools."

"That's more like it."