Morvran awoke with the early rays of dawn, pulling himself from the bed that barely held the imprint of his body. As a Core Formation expert, sleep was more a luxury than a necessity; a few hours per week sufficed.
He plodded over to the basin, fetching a jug of water to freshen his face and rinse his mouth.
Stepping in front of the mirror, a bald, chubby, yet serious face greeted him back. His features, distinctly Chinese, wore an expression of profound contemplation.
He opened a drawer, retrieving a small jar of cream. The price he had paid for it had been rather steep, costing him a few medium spirit stones. But the renowned alchemist who created it had promised it would give his bald head a sheen like no other.
As he rubbed the cream into his scalp, he murmured, "As Master Slifer’s right hand, one must always appear impeccable."
Slipping into his grand robes, he opened the door to his quarters, and was immediately greeted by a sight of three young men, clad in dark robes with their faces shrouded, kneeling in wait.
These were Master Slifer's Death Warriors – elite guardians raised from childhood to lay down their lives for their revered master when the hour called for it.
Morvran let out a heavy sigh. If it weren't for Master Slifer, these souls would've met a cruel fate in some forgotten alley, their existence devoured by the wilderness of the world.
His master had been a savior to many, a beacon of change in the merciless world they navigated. He too, like these death warriors, was an orphan taken under Master Slifer's wings. A ripple of gratitude surged through his veins, as he knew he owed every shred of his being to his Master.
Morvran cleared his throat, bringing himself back from his thoughts. "Speak," he commanded the death warriors.
One of the young men responded, his voice steady but filled with concern. "Boss, last night an intruder attempted to break into Master’s quarters.”
Morvran raised an eyebrow. In the past, such audacity was unheard of, but after the news of Master Slifer’s failed breakthrough and his subsequent weakened state spread, there had been a trickle of bold attempts against him. As the right-hand man to Slifer, Morvran was the shield between his Master and threats; a role he embodied with grave seriousness.
“Where is this intruder now?” Morvran inquired, his voice a slow drawl portraying an icy calmness.
The young man hesitated for a brief moment before answering, “It wasn’t an assassin, Boss. It was… a disciple.”
Morvran’s eyes narrowed into slits. Sending a disciple... this smells of a clever ploy by one of the elders, he thought.
“Bring me to him,” Morvran commanded, his voice leaving no room for question.
Without a word, the quartet moved, their figures blurring as they darted through the sect with a speed that made them near invisible to the naked eye.
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The dungeon was dimly lit, the few torches on the walls providing an eerie illumination that flickered as the cold draft swept through the underground chambers. The yells of a young voice echoed, pleading with a fervent passion. "Let me out! Don't you understand? He is my master!"
Upon entering, Morvran's eyes landed on a tall, lanky disciple. This young man's frame was riddled with bruises, yet there was a defiant gleam in his eyes and a smile, almost cocky, stretching across his face. The moment the lad's gaze settled on Morvran, recognition lit his features. "Boss Morvran!" he exclaimed, the joy evident in his voice.
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So, the would-be assassin recognizes me, he thought grimly. Without a word, Morvran approached and, without warning, delivered a powerful slap across the boy's face. Blood splattered, and the boy's head jerked to the side, but the grin remained.
"Who sent you?" Morvran demanded coldly, suspicion clear in his eyes.
Still smiling, the lad, who was Dentos, laughed. "I wasn't here to harm anyone. I simply wanted to bring a meal I had made for my master."
"And who, exactly, is this 'master' of yours?" Morvran's tone was skeptical.
Dentos looked straight into Morvran's eyes and declared confidently, "Master Slifer, of course."
Morvran's patience was wearing thin. With a swift motion, he struck Dentos again, this time with more force. The boy's head collided with the cage's bars, the metal clanging upon impact. "Stop with the lies, boy," Morvran warned, his gaze piercing through Dentos, taking in the boy’s battered physique and mentally marking which bones he'd target next.
Through the haze of pain, Dentos chuckled, albeit with bitterness tingeing his voice. "Elder Slifer is my master," he claimed, pausing briefly before adding, "He just doesn't know it yet..."
Morvran stayed his hand momentarily. The idea of someone yearning to be his master's disciple was new to him. He had always known Master Slifer to be a great man, but the world had its way of slandering the worthy. His doubts lingered but he knew for his master's sake, he had to make sure.
With a swift motion, Morvran seized Dentos by the neck, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. "This 'meal,' is it poisoned? Is this your plan to assassinate my master?" he hissed.
Gasping for breath, Dentos managed to choke out, "No... I heard Master has taken a liking to food recently... I just...wanted to gift this to him."
Behind Morvran, one of the death warriors approached, handing him a meticulously wrapped package. "We found this in the boy's storage ring," the warrior said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Morvran unwrapped the package to reveal a meal: delicate dumplings with a hint of celestial herbs, a soup that emitted a gentle aroma hinting at rare earthbound mushrooms, and a portion of heavenly glazed fish. It was a feast fit for a revered master.
Turning to Dentos, Morvran spoke sternly, "We shall see if you speak the truth, boy." He signaled to the death warrior who nodded and began cautiously tasting the food.
At the same time, another death warrior darted off towards the Medicine Hall to summon a healer, in case the food indeed was poisoned.
As the death warrior took the first bite, Dentos’ eyes widened in terror. "Stop!" he shouted, straining against the chains that bound him, his face twisted in a desperate plea. "It isn’t meant for you!"
But his plea fell on deaf ears. Morvran watched the warrior continue to taste the meal, and then to Dentos, he nodded in silent affirmation, convinced now of the poisonous intent.
The boy's desperate reaction... it only confirms the deceit, Morvran thought, the grim realization settling within his chest as he looked at Dentos with eyes hardened like the cold, merciless steel of a blade.
Morvran turned to the death warrior who had sampled the meal. "How was it?" he inquired.
The death warrior, though his face was concealed by the mask, seemed to carry a rare smile in his eyes as he responded, "Delicious. It tastes how I imagine a mother’s cooking would be."
Morvran scowled, "But have you noticed any adverse effects?"
The warrior shook his head, "No, there has been no change in my health or my qi."
Morvran muttered under his breath, "Must be a slow-acting poison." His gaze shifted as the healer hurriedly approached them, applying a technique to ascertain the presence of any toxins. After a brief moment of scanning, the healer looked up, shaking his head.
"No poison detected," the healer confirmed.
"So, no poison?" Morvran mumbled to himself, his eyes not leaving Dentos. Perhaps this boy does have what it takes to be Master's disciple, a thought darted through his mind, surprising him. His thoughts quickly jumped to Fenlock, and he scoffed inwardly, At least he’ll be better than that lovesick brat.
He sighed and commanded his men, “Release him.”
The clank of chains falling to the cold floor resonated in the silent room as Dentos was freed from his bonds. He slowly rose to his feet, rubbing his wrists to ease the soreness.
Morvran looked at Dentos with a newfound curiosity. “It seems there was a misunderstanding. You may go," he said, his voice was stern yet carried a trace of unspoken apology.
Dentos, however, didn't move. His eyes were fixed on Morvran as he spoke defiantly, “I want to see Master Slifer.”