The Cunning Treasure Hunter

Chapter 99 Secrets Beneath

Akrest Manor's Secret Passage

Within the Lord's Study of Akrest Manor,

There existed a hidden underground passage, concealed behind a cabinet.

This passage wasn't an escape route—

It led to somewhere far more sinister.

Whenever the Lord of the Akrest Clan, Ebon Akrest,

Had to descend into this passage, he felt a deep sense of dread.

The ritual he was forced to perform every month was an exhausting ordeal.

The Sword Sovereign, Zephyrion Akrest, his father, had called it the duty of the clan lord,

But the demonic energy sealed below was unbearable.

Every visit required at least three days of recovery.

"Let's hope… there's nothing unusual this time."

Once a month,

The Lord of the Akrest Clan was required to check on the head of the Young Cult Leader from the Demonic Cult.

Unlike arms or legs,

The head and torso couldn't escape on their own.

But there was a far greater problem—

The demonic energy.

The head housed the upper core,

While the torso contained the middle core (the heart) and the lower core.

This meant the head and torso were concentrated sources of the most volatile demonic energy.

The torso, fortunately, lacked the intelligence or will to act on its own.

But the head was a different story.

With a deep breath, Ebon Akrest activated his clan's Blue Sky Sword Technique,

Circulating inner energy to fortify his body.

From a drawer, he pulled out a purple pearl,

Threaded onto a string and hung it around his neck.

The Thousand-Year Violet Pearl,

A mystical artifact infused with the purest energy,

Was originally a rare alchemical ingredient,

But now served as his shield against demonic energy and poisons.

As he descended into the passage,

The oppressive demonic energy recoiled from him.

The Thousand-Year Violet Pearl emitted a protective aura,

Repelling the malicious energy like water parting around a rock.

"Well, that's a relief," he muttered,

Strapping a sword to his waist and entering the passage.

He pressed a wooden button hidden inside the passage entrance,

Causing the cabinet to swing shut behind him.

The narrow corridor ahead was lined with walls of jet-black stone,

Though the stones hadn't always been that color.

"They say these walls were once white…" he murmured.

Years of exposure to demonic energy had turned them black.

Each brick had been engraved with intricate anti-demonic runes,

Their clay infused with the core of the Ten-Thousand-Year Fiery Carp,

A legendary fish that lived for a millennium,

Its core radiating with pure energy.

Such measures were necessary to contain the demonic energy.

Still, time eroded even the strongest defenses.

The passage was warped, resembling the throat of a beast.

"We'll need to reinforce this soon…" he muttered, tapping one of the bricks.

A faint tremor ran through the wall,

And a dense wave of demonic energy surged out from the crack.

"Why… is it so thick today?"

Drawing his sword,

Ebon Akrest activated his Blue Sky Sword Technique,

Fortifying his meridians against the encroaching energy.

Even with his precautions, the oppressive atmosphere felt unusually heavy.

Twice as dense as usual.

Yet his duty could not be ignored.

Below him lay the head of the Young Cult Leader,

A grotesque fragment of the Demonic Cult's heir.

Though the head hadn't spoken or even opened its eyes for fifty years,

Its condition had to be checked.

Descending further,

He reached a massive door made of ironwood,

Bound with heavy slabs of black iron.

The door was inscribed with the Heart Sutra,

Carved by the abbot of the Iron Fist Sect Temple himself.

Chains of black iron coiled around the door's handles,

Sealed with a massive lock.

"Let there be no incidents…"

With a heavy heart,

Ebon Akrest unlocked the chains.

The second the door creaked open,

A suffocating wave of demonic energy surged outward,

Slamming into him with the force of a hurricane.

The Thousand-Year Violet Pearl around his neck dimmed,

Its once-brilliant light fading by a third.

For a moment, his vision went black.

When the energy dissipated enough for him to see again,

He stepped inside.

The Young Cult Leader's Head

What greeted him were eyes.

Piercing, black eyes that seemed to devour all light,

Staring directly at him.

For fifty years, those eyes had remained closed.

But now, they were wide open.

The head spoke.

Even without lungs to draw breath,

Its voice echoed through the chamber,

Booming and clear.

"The Heavenly Demon lives!"

Rebuilding the Fiery Blade clan

"Hey, Park! Move that over here already!"

"Ugh, you act like we're getting paid a fortune for this!"

"What, three or four silver pieces a day isn't enough to make meat stew for your kids?"

"When did I say I didn't want to do it?!"

The inner courtyard of the Fiery Blade clan was bustling with activity.

Under the orders of Regis, the Clan Lord, reconstruction had begun in earnest.

Pillars rose on the barren plots of land,

Rafters were being set, and roofs were taking shape.

"Things are progressing faster than I expected,"

Ethan commented, sitting on the porch,

Watching the labor unfold.

It had been seven days since the annihilation of the Crimson Demon Gate and the collapse of the Infernal Blade Corps.

The scars left behind might take longer to fade,

But with the destruction of the Demonic Cult's remnants,

Their revenge was complete.

"You look remarkably fine, Senior Brother Ethan," said Vera, her voice dry.

"Well, that's because I didn't get hurt as badly as you two," he replied, smirking.

"So, it was just Senior Brother Marcus and I who suffered?"

"Wait, wait! That's not what I meant!"

With a flick of his fingers, Ethan delivered a playful flick to Vera's forehead.

She flinched, clutching her head as though she'd been struck by lightning.

Her exaggerated reaction earned a sharp glare from Marcus.

"Senior Brother, isn't this favoritism? She started it!"

"Even so, you shouldn't hit your injured junior."

"She's not that hurt—"

In truth, Vera was gravely injured.

Three of her ribs were cracked,

Her arms and legs were pushed to the brink of collapse.

The only reason she was recovering was thanks to the rare ointments generously provided by the Fiery Blade clan.

"Fine… I'm sorry, Vera."

"It's alright. Once I'm better, I'll make sure to repay you with the same treatment."

"What did you just say?"

Ethan's jaw dropped in disbelief,

While Marcus burst out laughing at the exchange.

Despite her efforts to suppress her laughter,

A small chuckle slipped from Vera,

Only to wince as her cracked ribs protested.

"That outfit suits you quite well," Marcus said, changing the topic.

"Oh, this?" Vera tugged at her skirt.

"Lady Clara gave it to me. She said it was something she wore when she was younger."

The delicate embroidery and soft fabric still felt foreign to her.

"It's… a bit awkward," she admitted.

"Wait, she just gave it to you outright?" Ethan asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes, Senior Brother. She insisted that a girl should always have at least one nice outfit."

"Well, she's not wrong. Clara doesn't need clothes from her childhood anymore, does she?"

"She did say something like that…"

"It would be rude to refuse her generosity. Don't overthink it," Marcus added with a warm smile, patting her head.

Yet Vera didn't seem entirely convinced.

Her gaze drifted to her hands—

Calloused, small, but unmistakably the hands of a warrior.

"In clothes like this… it's hard to wield a sword," she murmured, almost to herself.

After a moment of thought, Marcus replied gently,

"Sometimes, it's important to dress nicely and take care of yourself."

"Even you, Senior Brother?"

"Of course. I have clothes for outings, you know."

Marcus gestured to his sword sheath,

A beautifully crafted tassel adorned with a carved jade ornament.

"I bought this not long ago. Isn't it lovely?"

"It is," Vera agreed.

"Treating yourself with care is important, Vera," he said,

Untying the tassel and attaching it to her own sword sheath.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"This… looks expensive."

"It's a gift. I've noticed you have confidence but lack pride. You should hold your head high."

"Pride in what?"

"In anything. You don't need to rely on your title as a disciple of the Mount Suncrest Sect to find something to be proud of."

Before Marcus could continue, Ethan interjected,

"Come on, are you serious? She's entered the threshold of the Supreme Realm at her age, and you're telling me that's not worth being proud of?"

"Th-that's…"

"Ethan, shut your mouth," Marcus snapped,

Delivering a firm flick to his forehead.

Rubbing his head with a pout,

Ethan muttered under his breath,

"Why didn't I join the sect earlier than you?"

As always, the authority of the senior disciple remained absolute.