The Supreme Commander of the Immortal Guard

Chapter 6

The news of Master Wesley's challenge took over every television screen, radio broadcast, and social media feed across the province.

Instead of feeling worried, Master Seth saw an opportunity to cement the Northern Wind Dojo as the undisputed ruler of the city's martial arts world.

By noon, the main hall was once again filled with camera crews and local reporters. Master Seth had hired three separate media companies to broadcast the upcoming duel live nationwide.

Elliot sat at the head table, wearing his finest robes. The fear he had felt upon receiving the challenge had been masked by his blinding pride and the constant praise of his followers.

"Master Wesley may have defeated old fighters like Master William," Elliot declared smugly into a row of microphones, tapping his hand on the hilt of his sword. "But tomorrow, he faces a true modern master. I will use the exact same technique that easily crushed our caretaker and others in the tournament! In three moves, Wesley will be begging for mercy on our stage!"

The room erupted into applause. Reporters snapped photos, writing glowing headlines about Elliot’s confidence.

Behind the stage, Clara watched the spectacle with a cold knot of dread twisting in her stomach.

She turned to Master Seth, who was currently signing an expensive contract with a local banquet catering company.

"Uncle Seth, stop this!" Clara pleaded, her voice trembling with frustration. "You are spending our dojo's entire financial reserve on victory banquets and media coverage! Master Wesley crippled three grandmasters in a single night. This isn't a demonstration match, It’s a life-or-death duel."

"Silence, Clara!" Seth snapped, "Elliot is the regional champion, and Once he slays Wesley tomorrow on live television, wealthy families from across the country will flock to enroll here. We will be millionaires overnight, stop dragging us down with your endless worrying."

Clara stared at him, realizing with tension that her family was blindingly driving themselves off a cliff.

Meanwhile, in the back office, Logan stood near an old wooden cabinet. He held a small stack of legal property deeds and bank transfer forms, Clara’s personal inheritance left behind by her father.

Using a contact from his past who now managed the city's central registry, Logan had spent the morning secretly restructuring Clara’s personal assets. He transferred her father’s remaining savings and private land titles into a secure blind trust under her name, completely isolated from the Northern Wind Dojo’s corporate entity.

When Master Seth’s reckless spending and Elliot’s impending defeat brought legal ruin upon the dojo tomorrow, Clara would not lose a single penny of her personal livelihood. She would be safe from the collateral damage.

Logan filed the updated documents back into her folder, shutting the drawer without making a sound.

As Logan walked out into the central courtyard carrying a basket of brass training weights, Elliot stepped directly into his path, blocking his way. Two senior disciples stood behind Elliot, smirking arrogance.

"Where are you taking those, trash?" Elliot sneered, looking down at Logan with contempt.

"The storage shed," Logan replied calmly, keeping his hands steady on the iron basket.

Elliot scoffed, kicking one of the brass weights inside the basket. "Make sure every piece of equipment in the arena is polished by midnight. Tomorrow is the biggest day of my life, and I won't have a useless caretaker ruining my glory with dusty gear."

Elliot leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Make sure you get a seat in the very back row tomorrow, coward. Watch closely. You'll finally see what a real master looks like when I put that foreign challenger in his place."

Logan looked into Elliot’s eyes. He saw no real martial foundation, no internal understanding, only the shallow confidence of a man who had never faced true lethal intent.

"I will watch," Logan responded quietly.

Elliot laughed loudly, shoving past Logan's shoulder as he walked toward the main gate with his entourage to attend another promotional interview.

Night fell quietly over Harlow Cross. The noise faded, leaving the Northern Wind Dojo wrapped in silence.

In the dark ancestral hall, resting above the incense burner was the dojo's most prized possession, a three-hundred-year-old oak plaque carved with the gold-leaf characters for Northern Wind.

The sliding door opened.

Logan stepped into the ancestral hall. He wore his plain clothes, his bandaged hands resting loosely at his sides. He walked slowly toward the altar, looking up at the ancient wooden plaque that Clara’s father had spent his entire life protecting.

Tomorrow, Elliot would fail. Wesley would draw his blade, and his first target of humiliation would be this very plaque, shattering it to erase the dojo's legacy forever.

Logan raised his right hand. He didn't draw a weapon or summon an explosive force. He simply extended his index finger, lightly pressing the tip against the bottom of the wood.

A ripple of invisible energy flowed from his fingertip, seeping into the dense grains of the ancient wood. The energy did not break the plaque, nor did it leave a visible mark. Instead, it bonded directly with the wooden fibers, reinforcing the entire structure with an indestructible barrier of grandmaster spirit force.

To the naked eye, it remained a hundred-year-old wooden sign. But now, not even a blade capable of cutting steel could leave a single scratch upon it.

Logan lowered his hand, his eyes looking back toward the courtyard.

"Your plaque will stand, Father-in-law," Logan whispered softly. "No one will destroy your legacy.”