The Supreme Commander of the Immortal Guard

Chapter 5

By noon the next day, fear had taken over the martial arts community of Harlow Cross. News stations showed constant live updates from the city center, with footage of ambulance lights flashing outside wrecked training centers.

The attacks had reached the Crimson Hawk Gym, one of the oldest and most respected martial arts schools in the city.

Master Wesley had walked through their front gates alone. In less than five moves, he broke the arms of Master William, their head founder. Then he drew his sword and sliced their hundred-year-old wooden ancestral plaque straight down the middle.

Inside the main training hall of the Northern Wind Dojo, however, the mood was different.

Dozens of news reporters and camera crews crowded around the central platform. Elliot sat on a raised chair, sipping green tea while two students polished his longsword.

Master Seth stood beside him, smiling broadly into the flashing camera lenses.

"Master Wesley may have defeated those weak, outdated gyms," Elliot boasted into a cluster of microphones, his voice echoing arrogantly across the hall. "But Northern Wind Dojo is built on real strength! If that foreign challenger dares to step foot near our gates, I will show him the true power of Harlow Cross's regional champion!"

The reporters scribbled on their pads, taking photos as Master Seth nodded in agreement.

"Our Senior Brother Elliot recently dominated the regional tournament stage," Seth added, casting a disdainful glance toward the outer courtyard where Logan was silently hauling water buckets. "We are not afraid of some arrogant outsider."

Clara stood near the back entrance, her heart filled with anxiety. She knew Master William of the Crimson Hawk Gym, he was a seasoned veteran who had practiced martial arts for over forty years.

For Wesley to defeat him in five moves meant the foreign challenger possessed a terrifying level of skill.

Elliot's loud boasting felt like nothing more than dangerous pride.

While the press conference went on inside, Logan put down his water buckets near the second gate. He pulled an old blue medical jacket over his plain clothes, put a mask over his face, and walked out onto the street.

An hour later, Logan walked down the corridors of Harlow Cross Central Hospital.

He stopped outside the Intensive Care Room. Inside, Master William lay propped up on a high bed, both his arms wrapped in thick plaster casts, connected to heart monitors and IV drips.

Two doctors stood near the foot of the bed, shaking their heads in grim resignation.

"The bone fractures are too severe, and his internal meridian pathways are completely torn," one doctor whispered to the family. "I'm sorry, but Master William will never be able to hold a spoon again, let alone a sword. He is permanently paralyzed."

The family broke into weeping as the medical staff exited the room.

Logan waited until the hallway was empty. Wearing his uniform and carrying a fresh stack of towels, he stepped quietly into the room and pulled the privacy curtain closed behind him.

Master William was awake, his eyes full of despair as he stared at the ceiling. He barely noticed the orderly step up to the side of his bed.

"Master William," Logan spoke softly.

"Leave the towels on the stand, son." William rasped weakly. "I can't move anyway."

Logan did not leave. He gently lifted William's right wrist and rested two fingers on the damaged pulse point.

Under the skin, William's inner energy channels were broken. It was the result of a powerful inner-energy technique made to destroy a martial artist's life force for good.

"This strike was not meant to defeat you," Logan said softly. "It was meant to torture you."

Before Master William could understand the words, a tiny thread of energy shot from Logan's two fingers, straight through the plaster cast and into William's arm.

William's eyes opened wide in shock.

The energy moved through William's arm, stitching the broken energy lines back together, putting the shattered bone pieces back in place, and pushing out the poisonous energy that Wesley's blade had left behind.

The terrible pain that had filled William's body disappeared at once, replaced by a soothing warmth.

"What are you doing?" William gasped, "This inner energy level, who are you?"

The old man did not hesitate to ask.

Logan withdrew his fingers, stepping back into the shadow of the privacy curtain.

Logan instructed quietly, adjusting his face mask. "Keep your arms in the cast for three days to hide the recovery, Do not speak of this to anyone if you wish to protect your family."

William mind spinning in disbelief. He could feel the strength returning to his fingers, a miracle that defied modern medicine.

He stared at the man before him, feeling an ancient aura radiating from the man that made his soul tremble.

"A Supreme Grandmaster." William whispered, his voice shaking with reverence. "You are a living god of the blade. Why hide in an orderly's uniform?"

Logan did not answer. He turned and slid through the privacy curtain, disappearing into the hospital corridor as quietly as he had arrived.

By evening, Logan returned to the Northern Wind Dojo.

The press conference had ended, but inside the main courtyard had shattered into chaos and panic.

Dozens of disciples gathered in a tight circle around the central ring, whispering in terrified voices.

Master Seth stood near the center, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he held an object.

Elliot stood beside him, his earlier arrogance entirely replaced by a look of fear.

Logan walked past the crowd of disciples, stepping closer to see what had caused such terror.

Lying in the middle of the room was a box that had been brought inside after it was delivered by an unknown figure.

Inside the open box was a letter. The words on it were written in fresh dark ink.

Clara stood near the platform, her voice shaking as she read the words aloud to the frightened students.

"To the Northern Wind Dojo, I have broken the grandmasters of the East, West, and South. Your school is the last remaining pillar of Harlow Cross."

She swallowed hard, her eyes wide with tension and fear as she read the final lines.

"In three days, on the main arena stage, I demand a life-or-death duel against your Head Instructor, Elliot. If he fails to appear, or if he falls beneath my blade, I will burn your ancestral hall to ashes and break your lineage plaque forever."

A heavy silence fell over the entire courtyard.

The disciples looked toward Elliot, waiting for their newly appointed Head Instructor to step forward and issue a grand declaration of victory as he had done for the news cameras earlier.

“I'm not scared of him, I'm not like those fake Master, I am a champion, he should come and face me that will be his end.”

The disciples cheered in excitement that their master wasn't scared.

“I believe in your Elliot!” Seth said with a steady voice. “Once you defeat him, the other will bow and seek our help.”

Elliot nodded, but he knew, deep down, that he was looking at his own death warrant.