Chapter 14 The price of Ignorance

Young Master Damian did not answer. He couldn't. The suffocating weight of Logan’s newly perfected Silver-Bone pressure was pressing down on his chest like a falling boulder. His mind, usually sharp with the cunning of a high-tier sect heir, had completely short-circuited. He looked at his ten elite assassins, who were currently embedded into the stone walls of the street like broken decorative statues, and then looked back at Logan.

"I... I am the young master of the Supreme Sun Sect!" Damian finally shrieked, his voice cracking as he desperately swung his golden sword forward, trying to maintain his vanishing dignity. "My father is a Peak Core Formation ancestor! If you touch a single hair on my head, the entire region will burn!"

"Your father isn't here," Logan said smoothly.

With a movement that seemed slower than a gentle breeze yet was faster than a lightning bolt, Logan stepped directly into the trajectory of the golden blade. He didn't use a weapon. He didn't even raise his arms to block.

Clang!

The pristine golden sword, forged from premium star-gold and capable of slicing through military shields, struck Logan square on his exposed right shoulder. The impact rang out like a heavy temple bell. But the blade didn't leave a scratch. Instead, the sheer, unyielding density of Logan’s perfected Silver-Bones caused a massive kinetic recoil.

Crack!

A web of fractures violently ripped up the length of the golden sword before it shattered into a hundred jagged metal shards. The violent vibration traveled up the hilt, completely dislocating Damian’s right wrist with a sharp pop.

"AAAGHH! My hand!" Damian screamed, dropping the useless hilt as he stumbled backward, clutching his broken wrist.

Logan didn't give him a chance to recover. He took a half-step forward, his right hand shooting out like a heavy iron vise, grabbing Damian by the front of his luxurious golden silk robes and lifting the seven-foot-tall young master completely off the ground with a single arm.

"You talked quite a bit about digging into my torso earlier, Damian," Logan whispered, his golden eyes staring directly into the young master's terrified pupils. "Let's see if your face is as hard as your mouth."

SMACK!

Logan delivered a casual, backhanded slap across Damian's left cheek. The sound resonated down the empty, muddy street like a small explosive charge.

The sheer physical force, backed by his perfected body-tempering strength, shattered Damian’s protective Silver-Bone aura instantly. The young master’s left jaw went completely crooked, three of his pearl-white teeth flying out of his mouth in a spray of bloody saliva.

"Wait! Young Master Vanguard, please!" Damian wailed through his broken jaw, his arrogant pride entirely vaporized as he dangled helplessly in Logan's grip. He looked down at the dark, dry crater and realized he was seconds away from being crushed into paste. "I have a treasure! A secret! Don't kill me!"

Logan paused his left hand mid-air, looking entirely bored. "A treasure? Speak quickly. My patience is as thin as your sword was."

"The... the ancient key!" Damian gasped, frantically reaching into his spatial pouch with his left, uninjured hand and pulling out a heavy, triangular jade token that radiated a dense, emerald-green spiritual energy. "This is the master key to the Supreme Sun Sect’s hidden spiritual herb garden! My father gave it to me to guard! It contains three-thousand-year-old Heavenly Spirit Radishes and rank-four body-nourishing roots! Take it! Just spare my life!"

Logan snatched the triangular jade token from Damian's hand, inspecting the dense botanical arrays carved onto its surface. A faint, knowing smile played on his lips. To a former Supreme Commander looking to rapidly rebuild his resources, a hidden, high-tier herb garden owned by a local sect was an absolute goldmine.

"A decent trade," Logan murmured, tossing the jade token into his leather sack.

He didn't kill Damian. Instead, with a casual flick of his wrist, Logan threw the young master through the air like a bag of wet laundry. Damian let out a spectacular, high-pitched scream before crashing face-first into a pile of rotting hay at the end of the alleyway.

"Vance, Mei, pick up the pace," Logan commanded, turning on his heel without looking back at the groaning assassins. "The Void Merchant Guild will have their high-tier trackers deployed by morning. We need to return to the mansion and prepare for our next relocation."

Mei ran up behind him, her eyes wide as saucers as she stared at Logan’s perfectly healthy, radiant skin. "Logan! You... you aren't sick anymore? The white flour on your face didn't even save you, you just exploded!"

"I am perfectly fine, Mei," Logan smiled gently, his voice carrying its unshakeable weight once more. "The fake lung rot is officially cured. Now, let's see how much gold Silas has packed for our trip."