14 Silver Mark One

Van swung off Blackheart's back as the Village Chief approached.

The scarred man was not excessively cautious, but neither was he completely dismissive. Staring Blackheart in the eye, he walked towards them. The wolf and human of regarded each other silently.

"Well done, Van," Leif managed.

He gazed at the herbs within the bamboo baskets.

"I see you have completed the mission to satisfaction."

"Would you like to inspect the baskets, sir?" Van asked, his eyes probing into Leif's reaction. Was the Village Chief the one who had sabotaged his mission? It didn't seem like it, but then again, it was hard to see into the human heart.

Leif shook his head. He shifted his eyes from the wolf, who was satisfied that for the moment Leif meant no harm. The older man inspected Van from head to toe. The boy was brimming with vitality and the expression on his face seemed looser and less solemn than Leif had ever seen on him.

It seemed as if the boy had encountered some fortune on the mountain?

Leif stared at Blackheart again. This was no ordinary wolf. He recalled the golden bear that had given the scar that ran from his bicep to forearm. Perhaps this wolf was similarly different.

To be able to tame such a fearsome beast… the boy had some measure of talent and skill.

The boy's gaze was clear and steady.

Leif sighed internally. Perhaps they had all misjudged him? A boy like this was not simple, and may contribute greatly to the village's prosperity in the future…

"Leif," a gruff voice sounded behind him.

Leif turned to see his old friend, Blade.

Then he saw the figure next to him. With crescent eye-slits, the silver mask made a forbidding sight.

Leif spoke warily, "And who is the honorable guest beside you?"

He saw Blade hesitate to speak. Something was wrong.

"You may call me Silver Mark One," the masked person said. His voice was not loud but seemed to float straight into your eardrums.

"Conveniently, it seems the whole village is here."

[Conveniently?] Leif looked worriedly at his friend.

Blade gave him a tight little shake of the head.

The Village Chief grew alarmed. What deity stood before them? The masked man was taller than Blade, who was the tallest man in Mountain Village, and seemed thin for his height. But if one underestimated him, they'd be drinking the Dream Hag's soup down in the Yellow River faster than they could blink.

After a period of silence, Blade spoke up.

___________________________________________________

Blackheart's stance stiffened as soon as the masked man closed in.

Van, now sensitive to the feeling of spiritual power, could feel it emanating off the tall figure. Instinctively, he knew this person's cultivation was much stronger than the woman who had interrogated him on the mountain.

Suddenly he saw Blade point at him. The silver mask turned slowly to face Van. The black crescents seemed to peer into his soul.

Van's heart pounded in his ears.

Sh*t.

Van couldn't make out what they were saying. The sound of his blood rushing through his veins was deafening. Would the masked figure be able to sense Jet, sleeping in Van's head? What about that mysterious turtle shell? The man holding precious jade is the one that gets killed first!

And the masked man would undoubtedly kill him as easily as killing a fly.

Underneath him, Blackheart whined, reflecting Van's turbulent state of mind.

Abruptly, the masked man raised his hand.

A purple glow spat out from his palms.

A small disc spun. With each spin expanded in size until it encompassed the entire village. The sun dimmed. The world quietened. An oppressive weight crushed down on the villagers.

The villagers, mere mortals with no hope of resisting the power, became dizzy under the disc's influence. A little girl cried out in pain. An older man collapsed to the ground, eyes bloodshot.

"What is the meaning of this!?"

Van finally heard someone's angry shout through his deafened ears. It was Leif. The older man was shocked and angry – these were his people! How could a leader not care about the lives of his people?

The Village Chief's face was ashen. He had braced himself by locking his muscles into place. Otherwise he would be in a similar state to the rest.

"Be glad I am using the Searching Dark disc," the silver mask said coldly, "My mental intent would pulverise your mortal brains into paste. You would become like the walking dead, alive, but unable to see or speak, unable to think. Drooling in your own excrement until you starved to death."

Van felt sick to his guts. Leif looked about the same.

The Village Chief clenched his jaw and shot a dark look at Blade. The bigger man averted his eyes. He may have brought the masked man to the village square, but this god of death had come to the village for the specific purpose of interrogating them all! All he had done was purposely point out Van, that was all!

Van felt the purple glow encroach. Energy surrounded him and sank into his skin. The boy struggled, channeling fleshy power and trying to strengthen his skin using the Thousand Saint Sacrifice method so that the purple energy could not penetrate. Unfortunately, the level of his body cultivation was too low in comparison. The dark energy barely paused.

But Van did not dare to use the meditative poses of the Thousand Saint Sacrifice technique. Although he instinctively felt that it would help him absorb and divert some of the power of the Searching Dark disc, he knew it would also reveal that he had practiced a body cultivation technique and bring him more suspicion.

What to do?

Van gritted his teeth. He could only be crude and use the most basic method possible.

Decisively he strengthened his palm and struck his chest.

Crack!

Several bones in his ribcage shattered.

As pain thundered through him, Van channeled the responding release of locked fleshly power and forced it to strengthen his skin.

The energy passing into him reduced by half.

It was not enough!

Van despaired.

Silver strands of power reached into his mind. Like worms into an apple, they wriggled through.

Van felt with growing horror the crawling energy reaching towards the centre of his mind space, where the ring and the turtle shell floated, dormant. A thin tendril of purple touched the first object it could reach - the green turtle shell.

Silver Mark One felt a response in the disc. His gaze sharpened. With unerring accuracy, he found Van, atop on top of the wolf.

So, it seemed the boy the hunter had a grudge against did indeed hide some secret.

Mark One manipulated the disc.

Van felt the dark energy pushing upon him triple. Purple worms of power twisted through and reached inwards.

Suddenly, the turtle shell trembled.

Van felt the cold, dark qi within the green turtle shell annihilate the approaching purple energy and absorb it within itself. Pulsing, it expanded slightly.

Mark One frowned. The disc did not respond again. Was it a mistake? No one else in the village had moved the Searching Dark disc. Mark One manipulated the disc again.

The power upon Van tripled. He groaned, skull feeling tight from the encroaching power. But like last time, before the purple power could reach the ring, it was all 'eaten' by the green shell. Each time, it grew a little bigger.

There was again no response from the disc. Mark One inspected Van with his eyes.

For such a thin boy, he seemed to emit a determined, serious air. Further inspection would reveal signs of having been in contact with a body strengthening item. This was not suspicious – the kind of treasure found in this kind of small country with its meager spiritual atmosphere was not worth a second thought.

However, if he had cultivated a body strengthening technique… Mark One narrowed his eyes, then that was an entirely different kind of story.

Decisively, he stopped the disc.

The sun reappeared.

Slowly, the villagers supported each other to stand. Leif regained his posture, fists clenched by his side.

Blade shuddered back to life.

Mark One waved his sleeves. The purple disc flew in.

"Thank you for your cooperation," He said calmly. As if he had not just held the lives of hundreds of villagers within his hands.

With a flap of his sleeves, he disappeared from sight.

The village heaved a sigh in relief.

Van felt his heart drop back into place.

He took a breath a breath in. Jet had led him to a treasure! Van knew that without the turtle shell he and Jet would have had their lives put into the masked man's hands.

Blackheart also calmed down. Atop the wolf, Finn was pale and wan. She had heard a cracking sound earlier and saw her brother's stern face contorted into a fierce grimace. The crack had come from his body! Scared and worried, she leaned over and pressed her tiny hands into her brother's chest. He flinched. Gently, he took her hands away. "I'm okay," he reassured.

Expression frozen into a semblance of a smile, he pretended the sharp pain in his rib did not exist. As for his fractured left arm? He had grown used to the aching hurt already.

But while he was in front of these villagers, he would not show an iota of discomfort or weakness.

Not one single bit.

Smiling, he regained his standing posture beside the giant wolf. Finn buried her head into the wolf's fur. He comforted her.

Leif regained himself, the purple receding from his face.

A howl of anger and fury abruptly rang through the square.

Blade was crouched down next to his wife. Her face was bloodless, almost green. She was clutching her stomach.

Like a wild beast, his eyes found Van's.

___________________________________________________

From far away, standing imposingly atop a cottage's thatched roof, Silver Mark One watched silently.

He tapped his fingers slowly against his leg, staring at the boy next to the giant wolf.

If there was even the tiniest chance...