Nimira turned without saying another word. Her silver-white gown swayed gently with each step, leaving behind traces of dew that slowly faded on the stone floor. Ardhana followed, his steps steady, though his face was filled with questions.They walked through a long corridor behind the altar, where stone walls were adorned with lotus and dragon reliefs covered in damp moss. The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt, as if it held great secrets about the organization hidden beneath the Seven Ghost Cities.Eventually, they arrived in a circular chamber. At its center stood a stone table engraved with the Sacred Lotus emblem, and upon it lay a map of seven hidden territories. Bluish-green lanterns hung low, illuminating several red points that glowed like blood.Nimira stopped before the table and looked at Ardhana.“Dragon’s son… your grandfather, the Great King, indeed died at the hands of the death warriors of the Sacred Lotus Nation.”Ardhana frowned. “I know that. But I don’t

Arrows whistled through the air, slicing toward Ardhana’s shoulder at high speed. He ducked swiftly, spun midair, and landed on the rooftop of a partially collapsed stone house. Flames raged beneath him, spreading across every corner of Kardaya.“Don’t let him escape!” an officer shouted from below. “Archers! Fire arrows!”A barrage of flaming arrows shot into the night sky. Ardhana ran across the rooftops, leaping from one building to another. Each time his feet landed, shattered roof tiles scattered in all directions.CTIIING!He slashed two arrows out of the air, then spun quickly. The aura of his blade glowed with a faint blue light amidst the raging red flames.From a distance, Kardaya’s troops in red-silver armor began surrounding him from four directions. They formed an arched formation, using the narrow streets as a trap.“Member of the Sacred Lotus Pavilion!” one soldier shouted. “You’ve brought hell to this city! Surrender yourself!”Ardhana stopped at the edge of the roofto

Ardhana fell silent. Flashes of memory crossed his mind—his mother’s hands teaching him how to identify illnesses, his father guiding him through calm steps before battle. Being a healer was not unfamiliar to him.“I don’t need your advice… One day, if you try to use me or provoke me again, I won’t hesitate…” His words trailed off as he continued walking out of the room.Nimira smiled faintly. “Do you think you can move freely within enemy territory that easily? Ardhana, I will be waiting for the day you come back… begging for my help!”*The next day, at the edge of a valley, stood a small village bustling with simple daily activities.“Uncle? Why are you still wearing a mask?” a young boy named Steven tugged gently at Ardhana’s clothes.Though still young, Ardhana—hiding his identity from the Blades troops—smiled faintly behind his mask.“Steven, your uncle has scars on his face… You might be scared if you saw it.”Steven fell silent, then shifted his attention toward a simple house

“I haven’t finished speaking yet… why are you in such a hurry? Greedy…”The two men took deep breaths, unable to say a word. But the commander of the soldiers felt like he was being toyed with.“We already gave you a chance to live, yet you chose the path of death…”Sriiing!He drew his sword from its sheath and leaped straight toward Ardhana. But with ease, Ardhana merely shifted his body slightly, causing the commander’s strike to miss its mark.Slaaaash!“Aaakh! M-my hand…!”“I—I…” The commander froze, realizing his mistake too late.Wuuuuush!He swung his sword again, but this only triggered Ardhana to perform a quick backward flip. With sharp vision and swift thinking, Ardhana kicked a fist-sized stone beneath him with great force.BAAAAAAANG!The stone shot forward at high speed, slamming into the commander’s stomach and making his eyes bulge.“Next time, I won’t be so kind if you dare to provoke me again…”After collecting all the Tushe gold coins, Ardhana continued on his jour

Since that night, news about the Masked Healer in Holy Land Village spread like the wind. People came from other villages, bringing wounds, illnesses, and fading hope.That morning, Ardhana’s small clinic was already crowded even before the sun fully rose. A young man with a swollen arm, an old woman struggling to breathe, and two little children with severe coughs—now all the patients sat neatly outside, waiting their turn.From inside the room, a calm yet firm voice could be heard.“This child has been eating too many preserved dried fruits,” Ardhana said while looking at the boy sitting on his mother’s lap. “His throat is irritated, not because of a fever.”The mother looked confused. “But Healer… we thought it was just a common flu.”“No,” Ardhana replied calmly, mixing a bit of honey with a white root in a small container. “A flu causes nasal congestion. Your child is having difficulty swallowing because of wounds in his throat. Stop giving him dried food for three days, and gi