The Supreme Commander of the Immortal Guard

Chapter 4

The morning after the Annual Martial Tournament, a huge red-and-gold banner was position at the main entrance of the Northern Wind Dojo. Its bold letters announced that Elliot was now the Head Instructor.

The outer courtyard was full of new students who wanted to sign up under the man who had won so clearly on stage.

Inside the main office, Clara sat at her father's desk and stared at a pile of legal papers.

The door burst open. Elliot walked in without knocking, with two senior students beside him. He wore a brand-new instructor's robe, and his hand rested on the handle of his steel sword. Behind him came Master Seth, carrying a new set of brass seals.

"Clear your things off the desk, Clara," Elliot said, full of pride. "As Head Instructor, I am taking over the records and all the money accounts starting today.”

Clara stood up, her hand curled into a fist at her side. "This office belonged to my father. Uncle Seth, you promised I would retain management rights if Logan participated in the tournament!"

Master Seth stepped forward, his eyes hard. "Logan did take part, yes, but he was a complete disgrace. He fell to his knees in front of five thousand people. The family council met last night. You have shown that you cannot manage our family's reputation. From now on, Elliot's students will handle sign-ups and money."

Elliot stepped closer and leaned over the desk with a mocking smile. "Don't look so bitter, Clara. I'm doing this for your own good. To make sure our caretaker doesn't shame us again, I have written some new rules for the dojo grounds."

He tossed an official notice onto her desk.

"Starting today," Elliot announced loudly, "Logan is not allowed to enter the main training hall or the inner pavilion, or to speak to any student. His only job is cleaning the outer courtyard and fixing the sewers. If he steps near the training mats, I will throw him into the street myself.".

Clara's lips shook with anger. "You are treating him like an outcast.”

"He is an outcast," Master Seth interrupted sternly. "And if you had any sense left, Clara, you would divorce that useless coward today. Elliot is the future of our family. Marry him, and your position in this dojo will be restored immediately."

"I will never marry Elliot!" Clara shouted.

Elliot's smile disappeared and turned into a cold sneer. "We'll see how long you stay stubborn when you're sitting in an empty house with a husband who cleans toilets for a living. Get out of this office by noon."

Without another word, Elliot and Seth turned and walked out, leaving Clara alone in the quiet office. She sank back into her chair and covered her face as tears ran down her cheeks.

Outside in the courtyard, Logan stood near the trash bins, holding a long bamboo broom.

Two young students walked by and kicked a pile of dry leaves across the swept stones on purpose.

"Make sure you get every leaf, caretaker!" one of them jeered, bursting into laughter. "Don't let Senior Brother Elliot catch you slacking, or he'll make you kneel again!"

Logan did not answer. He kept his head down and calmly swept the leaves back into a neat pile. His face stayed calm, but deep in his chest, a familiar pain stirred.

He didn't care about Elliot's rules or the students' insults. All he cared about was how much this shame was hurting Clara.

By late evening, the noise of the dojo had finally faded.

Logan sat on the wooden porch outside their quiet home.

The door behind him slid open softly. Clara stepped out, looking tired. She said nothing and sat down on the step beside him, resting her chin on her knees.

"They took my father's office today," Clara whispered softly, her voice drained of energy. "They took the registers. They took everything."

Logan reached out, hand moving gently to cover hers. "I know."

Clara didn't pull her hand away this time, but tears began to spill over her eyelashes, dripping onto the steps.

"Why, Logan?" she sobbed, turning to look at him, her voice breaking with pain. "Why won't you fight for me? Why do you let them take everything from us without saying a word? Do you really have no pride left? Don't you care that they are forcing us apart?"

Logan looked into her eyes. His heart tightened with sadness. Her pain felt heavier to him than any wound he had ever taken in battle.

He lifted his other hand, his thumb gently wiping away the hot tears running down her cheeks.

"I care, Clara," Logan said softly. "I care more than you will ever know."

"Then why?" she wept, searching his face for answers. "Why do you stay silent?"

"Because power shown to the world brings endless blood and storm," Logan replied gently, holding her gaze. "And I swore to protect your peace. Let them take the office. Let them take the titles and the praise. They are building a palace out of dust, Clara."

He leaned closer, his eyes shining with a steady resolve that made Clara's breath catch.

"Look at me, Clara," Logan murmured softly. "I promise you, no matter how dark things look right now, and no matter what Elliot or Uncle Seth tries to do. you will never lose your home. I will never let anyone destroy what your father built."

For a moment, Clara felt a strange wave of warmth and safety coming from the man beside her. The fear that had followed her all day seemed to disappear under his steady gaze. She rested her head on his shoulder and cried quietly until her breathing slowed and she was worn out.

Logan kept his arm around her and held her close, looking out at the courtyard as the stars began to appear in the sky.

BEEP!

Suddenly, the loud ringing of a phone notification shattered the night.

Clara flinched, pulling back slightly as she reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone. It was an urgent broadcast alert from the Harlow Cross Regional Martial Arts Network, a private channel used by all registered dojos in the province.

She opened the notification, and her eyes widened in surprise as she read the flashing headlines across the top of her screen.

"What is it?" Logan asked quietly.

Clara’s voice trembled as she read the news aloud.

"An hour ago, the iron-ranked Storm Fang Dojo was attacked. Their founder, Master Oscar, had both his arms broken in three moves. Their ancestral sign was shattered into pieces."

She scrolled down.

"It's not just them. The Iron Dragon Gym and the Northern Palm School were hit right after! Three grandmasters crippled in a single evening! The attacker left a message painted in blood on the main gates of the Martial Association.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Who is the attacker?"

Clara swallowed hard, her fingers shaking as she showed him the attached photograph on her phone screen.

The picture showed a man in a dark traditional robe, holding a long katana in a black sheath. He stood in the ruined courtyard of a destroyed gym, stepping over the unconscious body of a local master.

"His name is Master Wesley," Clara whispered, her voice laced with terror. "An international sword master from overseas. He has officially entered Harlow Cross and he announced that he will challenge every single dojo in the city until our local martial arts heritage is completely wiped out.”