Lucas steadied himself and said, "Senior, your internal energy is profound. May I ask your esteemed name?"
The man ignored Lucas and turned his gaze to Elliott. "Elliott," he said, "what exquisite swordsmanship. Yet again, you've ruined my plans. I will return for you."
Before the words had fully faded, the man vanished—along with Jackson. Elliott hadn't expected such a master to appear. It seemed the book's accounts weren't entirely reliable, and now he had made a formidable enemy.
Suddenly, a thick mist rose from the forest, and those who inhaled it collapsed where they stood.
Western Xia Hall had begun their assault, and the "Mourning Rain Ink" poison proved even deadlier than anticipated.
Elliott recalled the book's warnings. Hearing the thuds of falling bodies and scattered shouts, he called out, "Lucas, flee for your lives!"
With that, he scooped Amelia into his arms. "Hold tight," he said, then dashed toward the forest's edge.
Amelia quickly directed him, "Five paces ahead—trees. Turn left for a narrow path."
At least she remembered Elliott was blind. Behind them, Henry watched with simmering jealousy as Elliott carried Amelia, while he himself struggled with Sophia in his arms. The Beggar Sect members had already scattered at the first sign of trouble.
Spotting a lone woman still standing, Lucas acted on instinct—no Vanderbilt disciple would come to harm under his watch. He swept her up and fled.
Grace, already poisoned, had no strength to resist as Lucas carried her away. Some of the Beggar Sect were captured, but the ordeal was far from over.
In their haste, none noticed Mia slipping away unnoticed.
The blind fool ruined my plan to frame Lucas, she thought bitterly. But I have other moves left. I will return for vengeance.
---
"Who's there?" A man and woman, entangled and unclothed amidst the grass, froze as Elliott barged in with Amelia on his back.
Amelia flushed crimson at the sight. "Blind man," she whispered, "perhaps we should find another spot?"
Elliott shook his head. "No time. We'll hide here—sounds like a search party outside." Then, raising his voice, he barked, "You two—get out. This is a martial world blood feud. Leave now if you value your lives."
The man scrambled up with a thud, hastily dressing himself and the woman before bolting, abandoning their belongings.
Amelia had averted her eyes, but the noise made her glance back—then immediately regret it, her cheeks burning. She spat in disgust.
Even blind, Elliott could guess what had happened. But survival took precedence. "Amelia, get down," he said.
"I… I can't move," she murmured weakly.
Elliott recognized the effects of Mourning Rain Ink. He had held his breath earlier to avoid the toxin. "Then guide me," he said. "We'll hide first."
"What's wrong?" he asked, sensing her trembling.
"I was drenched in the stream," Amelia whispered. "Now I'm so cold…"
Her delicate constitution had likely succumbed to illness. "I'll find dry clothes for you," Elliott said.
"That couple left a bundle," Amelia reminded him. "Check if there's anything usable."
Nodding, Elliott felt his way toward it. Just as his fingers brushed the fabric, the door burst open.
"Who goes there?"
The intruders spotted Elliott. "Well, well," one sneered. "A pretty-faced blind man."
Elliott bowed slightly. "Honored sirs, my apologies. I'm but a humble miller. How may I serve you?"
"A blind miller, eh?" The man scoffed. "Listen well, cripple. We're from Western Xia Hall. Seen a man and woman pass through?"
Above them, Amelia's breath hitched—these were their pursuers.