112 Chapter 112 – A Wall of Memories, A Looming
Showdown
Eamon’s labored breathing filled the small room as I carefully applied healing ointment to his injuries. His arm had been set, but the bruising across his torso told a story of brutal violence,
“You shouldn’t have faced them alone,” I said, wrapping a clean bandage around his
ribcage.
He winced, then managed a weak smile. “It was my duty, Master Knight.”
I shook my head, impressed by his loyalty yet troubled by how close he’d come to death. “Asher Lane will pay for this.”
“The Lane Family…” Eamon coughed, grimacing with pain. “They’re not to be underestimated. Asher is an Inner Strength Master.”
This new information settled heavily in my mind. The Lane Family was among Eldoria’s most influential clans, with deep connections to both merchant guilds and martial circles. Asher being an Inner Strength Master meant he’d broken through to a cultivation level far beyond most in South City.
“How powerful is he compared to others in South City?” I asked, needing to understand exactly what I was facing.
Eamon’s expression darkened. “Among the younger generation, he’s considered unmatched. His techniques are brutal, efficient. They say he’s killed seventeen challengers in duels.”
Instead of fear, I felt a surge of anticipation. This wasn’t just about avenging Eamon anymore–this was opportunity. Every powerful enemy defeated was a stepping stone, every public victory a chance to build my reputation. The resources and recognition I needed to reach Veridia City would follow.
“Perfect,” I said, surprising Eamon.
“Master Knight?”
“Sometimes the tallest trees make the best ladders when felled.”
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112 Chapter 112 – A Wall of Memories, A Looming Showdown
I spent the remainder of the day in deep meditation, cycling my qi through the meridians strengthened by the Qi Gathering Pills. The breakthrough to Foundation Establishment remained tantalizingly close, hovering just beyond my reach. I could sense its threshold like a wall of fog–visible but not yet penetrable.
As evening fell, a messenger arrived with a small package. Inside was a collection of photos–Isabelle, captured by hidden cameras in Veridia City. My heart clenched at the sight of her elegant profile as she stepped from a sleek vehicle, her expression composed but with a sadness that only I would recognize in the slight downturn of her lips.
There was no note attached, but I knew who had sent them. Mariana Valerius was keeping her promise to monitor Isabelle’s situation. These images were both a comfort and a torment–proof that Isabelle was safe, yet a reminder of the distance between us. I traced my finger over her face in one photo, where she’d paused to look toward the camera as if somehow sensing she was being watched. In that moment, her mask had slipped, and longing was plainly visible in her eyes.
“I’m coming,” I whispered to the photograph. “I’m getting stronger every day.”
I placed the photos carefully on the small altar in my room, arranging them like treasures. They would be my daily reminder of what I was fighting for.
The following day, news of my upcoming duel with Asher Lane spread through South City like wildfire. I could feel eyes on me as I walked through the marketplace, hear the whispers trailing in my wake.
“That’s him–the outsider who challenged Asher Lane.”
“Poor fool. They’ll be collecting pieces of him after the duel.”
“I heard he killed one of Lane’s men with a single strike.”
“Exaggeration. Nobody could take down one of Lane’s inner circle so easily.”
I let them talk. Their underestimation would work in my favor.
By evening, I received an unexpected visitor–a thin, scholarly man who introduced himself as Wong, a representative from the local Martial Records Office.
“Your duel has generated significant interest,” he explained, pouring himself tea without waiting for an invitation. “The office wishes to document the outcome
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officially.”
“For a simple personal dispute?” I asked, sensing there was more to his visit.
Wong smiled thinly. “Asher Lane is ranked fourteenth among South City’s rising talents. Any challenge to him becomes a matter of public record.”
I nodded slowly, understanding the implication. This wasn’t just a duel anymore–it was becoming a spectacle.
“What happens when I win?” I asked deliberately.
Wong nearly choked on his tea, quickly composing himself. “If–and that is an extraordinary if–you were to defeat Asher Lane, your name would be entered into the city’s martial rankings.”
“I see.” I sipped my own tea calmly. “Then make sure the record keepers spell my name correctly.”
The day before the duel, I secluded myself completely, focusing every ounce of my energy on breaking through to Foundation Establishment. Hours passed in intense concentration as I forced my qi to circulate through increasingly resistant pathways. Sweat poured down my face. My muscles cramped and spasmed. Still, I pushed harder, visualizing the barrier between stages as a physical wall to be torn down.
Midnight came and went. The first hint of dawn colored the eastern sky when I felt something shift within me–a sudden release of pressure followed by a rush of power that flooded every cell in my body. My dantian expanded, deepening into a swirling pool of energy that seemed bottomless compared to before.
Foundation Establishment. I had broken through.
The timing couldn’t have been better. I allowed myself a brief, satisfied smile before collapsing into exhausted sleep.
I awoke to the day of reckoning. South City’s central square was packed with spectators when I arrived–merchants, cultivators, ordinary citizens, all crowding balconies and rooftops for a better view. At the center, a raised stone platform had been erected specifically for our duel.
Asher Lane was already there, surrounded by supporters. He wore luxurious battle robes embroidered with the Lane Family crest, a conspicuous display of his status.
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When he spotted me, his lip curled with disdain.
“The dead man arrives,” he announced loudly. “I considered having your grave dug in advance to save time.”
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His entourage laughed sycophantically. I simply smiled and took my position opposite him on the platform.
Wong from the Martial Records Office stepped forward, unfurling an official scroll. “The duel between Asher Lane, Inner Strength Master of the Lane Family, and Liam Knight will now commence! Victory is achieved through surrender, incapacitation, or…” he paused dramatically, “death.”
A hush fell over the crowd as we faced each other. Asher’s eyes gleamed with malicious anticipation.
“Before we begin,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I’m curious—what brings an outsider like you to South City? Rumor has it you’re connected somehow to Veridia City’s Ashworth Family.”
The mention of Isabelle’s family name caught me off guard, though I kept my expression neutral. “My affairs are my own.”
Asher grinned wickedly. “So it’s true then. I heard you’re quite close with the Ashworth heiress–Isabelle, is it?”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. I remained silent, watching him carefully.
“Interesting,” Asher continued, turning to his supporters. “Perhaps after I defeat him, we should send word to Veridia City. I’m sure the Ashworths would be interested to know their precious princess has such… common taste,”
I felt my qi stir in response to my anger, but controlled it carefully. “Are you here to fight or gossip like an old woman, Lane?”
His expression darkened. “Let’s begin then.”
Asher turned to his followers–five cultivators who had been boasting earlier about joining the fight to teach me a lesson–and gestured for them to take positions around the platform.
But something unexpected happened. One by one, they stepped back.
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112 Chapter 112 – A Wall of Memories, A Looming Showdown.
“Apologies, Young Master Lane,” said the first, a burly man with a facial scar. “I just remembered a prior commitment.”
“My… my cultivation is unstable today,” stammered another. “I shouldn’t risk combat.”
“My mother is ill,” claimed a third, already backing away.
“What is this?” Asher demanded, his face flushing with anger. “Where are you all going?”
The last of his supporters, a thin man with calculating eyes, leaned close to whisper something in Asher’s ear. I couldn’t hear the words, but I saw Asher’s expression shift from anger to disbelief.
“The Ashworth Family?” he hissed. “Are you certain?”
The man nodded gravely, then bowed and retreated with the others, leaving Asher standing alone.
Asher turned back to me, reassessing me with new wariness. The crowd had grown quiet, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere.
“It seems,” I said with a slight smile, “that your friends have pressing engagements elsewhere.”
Asher’s jaw tightened as he realized his support had evaporated at the mere mention of my connection to the Ashworths. For the first time, uncertainty flickered across his face–but it quickly hardened into determination.
“It doesn’t matter,” he snarled, dropping into a fighting stance. “I don’t need help to destroy you.”
I mirrored his stance, feeling the new power of Foundation Establishment humming through my body. “Then by all means,” I said softly, “let’s begin.”
