CHAPTER 64: WE DON’T HAVE ANY OTHER CHOICE.

After staying silent in a stupefied manner for a long time, Crimson finally sighed.

His shoulders slumped and he raised both hands in a gesture of frustration.

"Oh... You are so damn annoying!" he grumbled, dragging his palm down his face. "Benneca, come out! This is exactly why I don’t do good deeds anymore!"

He stepped back with a look of utter defeat, as if all the energy had been drained from his body.

Suddenly, the space beside them distorted.

A wave of spatial Qi rippled in the air like a mirage over hot sand.

A moment later, a figure emerged from the rift, elegant, cold, and poised.

Benneca.

Her long black robes flowed behind her, untouched by the wind.

Her silver hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and her expression was the same as always, blank, unreadable, and icy.

She looked first at Crimson with a slight sneer tugging at her lips, clearly unimpressed.

Then her gaze shifted to John.

Her eyes, grey and piercing, slowly scanned him up and down as if measuring his value, dissecting him without emotion.

A raised brow was the only visible sign of her reaction.

"He’s politely asking for forgiveness. You should accept it." Her voice was cold, clipped, and devoid of empathy as she stepped forward, her boots making faint clicks on the stone path.

John stepped back instinctively, his saber still in hand, muscles tense.

"And why exactly should I forgive him?" he asked with a mocking tone. "A better question, what would you gain out of it? Don’t insult my intelligence. I know you two aren’t here just to say ’sorry.’"

Benneca’s expression didn’t flicker, but a subtle shift in her eyes revealed a sliver of acknowledgement.

Smart.

She sighed through her nose, clearly disliking what she had to say next.

"Fine," she said after a pause, her tone still emotionless. "We need your help."

John narrowed his eyes instantly, all his senses on alert.

"Help?" he echoed, voice hard. "You want something from me?"

"Yes," Benneca said with a nod. "You’ll do something for us. In return, I will forget the matter of the entrance test... and I won’t kill you."

John blinked. His grip tightened around the saber.

He stared at her with a blank face, then let out a short, humorless laugh. "You call that an offer? That’s not an offer, that’s blackmail."

Then, coldness slipped into his own tone as he raised his voice slightly.

"I’d rather die than help you two bastards," he said, eyes blazing. "Get lost before I call the Law Enforcement Hall and have you both detained for threatening an inner disciple."

Silence.

Benneca said nothing.

But Crimson, standing beside her, cracked a wicked smile.

"See? Told you. The brat’s too stubborn for his own good," he said, a glint of malice in his eyes.

A sword materialized in his hand, gleaming silver under the daylight. "We should just kill him and be done with it. I’m sure we can find someone else."

But before he could take a single step, Benneca held up her hand.

Her eyes remained on John, studying him like an enigma.

"...Give him another fruit," she said flatly.

Crimson froze, his sword halfway lifted.

He turned slowly, face scrunched with disbelief.

"W-What?!"

"I said..." Benneca repeated, "...give him another Nine Heavens Fruit."

Crimson looked like he’d been slapped.

"There is no way...no way, I’m doing that!" he yelled. "You realize each of those costs sixty mid-grade spirit stones, right?! That’s more than I made all last month!"

Benneca’s face didn’t twitch.

Instead, she reached into her spatial ring and slowly pulled out a small dagger, thin, curved, and etched with ancient runes.

The moment it left her hand, a cold wave of pressure exploded outward.

It was suffocating.

The air turned heavy.

The birds in the nearby trees fell silent.

Even the faint breeze that had been brushing through the courtyard stopped.

John’s breath hitched.

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

He wasn’t even the target, but the sheer force of her pressure made his knees threaten to buckle.

Crimson took a step back, his face pale. His sword hand lowered immediately.

Benneca spoke again, her voice still calm.

"Give. Him. Another. Fruit."

Crimson’s lips trembled slightly.

He looked at her, then at John, then at the two fruits already missing from his inventory.

A painful expression twisted his face as he groaned.

"You damn demon in disguise..." he muttered, reaching into his robe and pulling out yet another Nine Heavens Fruit, round, golden, and glowing faintly with spiritual essence.

He threw it at John.

John caught it mid-air, unfazed.

"Three poisoned fruits now?" he said with a smirk. "You two are really desperate."

He tucked the third fruit into his spatial bag as well, never taking his eyes off the two.

Then he straightened up, pointing his saber at them again. "Now say what you want properly. No threats. No pressure. Or the next thing you’ll face is the Sect’s law enforcement... and I don’t think even you want that heat."

Benneca placed the dagger back into her spatial bag with a smooth, practiced motion, the cold pressure that had descended on the area slowly fading as she reined in her aura.

Her eyes remained fixed on John, expression as calm and unreadable as ever.

"We want you to break the seal of a door," she finally said, her voice flat and matter-of-fact.

John’s lips curled slightly upward, though there was no mirth in his expression. "And what’s so special about that door that you need me, specifically?" he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

Benneca was silent for a few heartbeats, her pale eyes holding his gaze.

Then she took in a slow breath and replied, "It’s sealed with ancient spirit runes, ones so complex and profound that we’ve already exhausted every other option. Only an ancient spirit technique might be able to unravel them."

John narrowed his eyes, a flicker of realization crossing his face.

He already suspected what she was referring to, his Soul Piercing Gaze.

A technique he had obtained from that cursed cave and the monstrous spirit woman sealed within it.

It was a technique born of blood and death, created by a spirit who had slaughtered hundreds of thousands of souls to forge it.

The weight of that legacy was not something John took lightly.

"I see," John said softly, then turned cold. "Sorry. I can’t help you."

He waved his hand dismissively and began walking back toward his cottage, unwilling to involve himself in whatever scheme they were plotting.

"You!" Crimson exploded, his face twisting with frustration and rage.

His fists clenched, and his veins bulged as he stepped forward. "You arrogant bastard! We gave you three Nine Heavens Fruits! Three! Do you have any idea how much they’re worth?! We could’ve bribed a Peak Elder with that amount, and you’re still refusing?!"

Crimson’s hand twitched, and spiritual energy surged around him.

He looked ready to attack.

Before he could act, Benneca’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Why?" she asked softly. "What’s the problem? We can give you three more fruits if you break that seal."

John stopped in his tracks.

Slowly, he turned around, his eyes cold and sharp as they met hers.

"Problem?" he said, his voice calm but biting. "Oh, there are plenty of problems."

He took a step forward, facing both of them directly.

"First of all, I can’t trust either of you. You expect me to risk my life breaking a seal, and what then? What’s to stop you from killing me the moment I outlive my usefulness?"

He raised a second finger. "Second, I have no idea what’s behind that door. For all I know, it could be some ancient evil waiting to devour my soul the moment I crack it open."

Then a third finger. "And last but not least—there’s no way I can guarantee my own safety around you two. You’ve already threatened me, Crimson’s nearly drawn his weapon on me twice, and you expect me to feel safe helping you?"

John snorted. "Keep your damn fruits. I’d rather live poor than die stupid."

There was a long silence.

Then, without warning, Benneca pulled a black sword from her spatial ring and tossed it casually toward John.

It spun through the air, glinting with a dark, eerie sheen before embedding itself upright in the ground a few paces in front of him.

"You can keep that," she said coolly. "As a safety shield."

Crimson’s expression twisted in horror. "Benneca!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "What the hell are you doing?! Have you gone insane?!"

"That is your Silentsword, do you even understand what that means?" Crimson’s voice trembled with barely restrained fury, his eyes wide and veins pulsing on his neck. "If the Clan Leader finds out that youBenneca Silentsword, just handed it over to an outsider, do you know what would happen? Do you?!"

He took a step toward her, fists clenched and knuckles white. "You’d be stripped of your title, locked in the Soul Refining Chamber, maybe even executed for treason!"

But Benneca didn’t flinch.

Her icy expression remained unchanged, like she was carved from frost itself. "This is the only way to gain his trust," she said coolly, her voice devoid of regret. "If he doesn’t trust us, he won’t break that seal. And if that seal doesn’t break, the mission fails. End of story."

Crimson clenched his jaw so tight that his teeth audibly ground against each other.

He looked like he was on the verge of combusting from rage. "What? Are you, Are you insane? We can bribe an elder! Hell, we can bribe ten! What’s a few hundred thousand more spirit stones compared to this?!" He pointed furiously at the obsidian blade now resting in John’s stunned hands.

Benneca shook her head slowly. "No. I’ve already checked. I sent probes. I asked questions without asking them. Not a single elder has the qualifications, or the right spiritual wavelength, to undo the seal. Not even close. Only two people in the entire sect qualify, him..." she pointed at John, who was still holding the sword awkwardly, his brows furrowed in thought, "...and the Sect Leader."

Crimson fell silent for a moment, but his glare only intensified.

"And we can’t involve the Sect Leader," Benneca continued, her voice turning grave. "You know what kind of man he is. The moment he learns there’s something powerful behind that seal, he’ll seize it for himself, take credit for everything. We’ll be nothing but dust in his shadow."

She turned back to John and stepped forward, her boots crunching softly over the gravel path. "But you... you’re different. You’re strong, yes, but still under the radar. Smart enough to question us, but not arrogant. You’re not connected to any inner factions. You’re perfect for this."

Crimson scoffed, spitting to the side. "Perfectly weak, you mean."

"No," Benneca corrected without looking at him. "Perfectly disposable... if he tries to double cross us. But valuable, if he doesn’t."

Her words hung heavy in the air.

John, still silent, looked down at the blade in his hand.

The Silentsword, it hummed slightly in his grip, resonating with a dark, oppressive energy, yet it felt oddly familiar... like it recognized him.

He looked back at Benneca, then at Crimson. "You’re telling me... you’re willing to bet your political standing, your clan status, and your lives on the hope that I’ll agree to do this?"

"Yes," Benneca answered without hesitation.

"...Why?" he asked.

"Because we don’t have any other choice."