My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible

Liam sighed heavily after listening to everything Luo had told him. The story was even worse than he’d imagined, and his imagination had already painted a grim picture.

According to Luo, three weeks after Liam left Blackstone City, the assassins from the Devouring Petal Pavilion had apparently grown tired of waiting. Whatever patience they’d initially possessed had evaporated, replaced by frustration and the need for results.

They’d decided to smoke Liam out from whatever hole they thought he’d hidden himself in, and to accomplish that goal, they could only target the one person in the entire city that Liam had ever shown any favorable contact with, Master Han.

Three assassins had stormed the shop on that first day. They hadn’t bothered with subtlety or pretense. The moment they’d entered, they’d made their intentions crystal clear—they wanted information about Liam’s whereabouts, and they didn’t care what methods they needed to employ to get it.

Master Han, of course, had told them the truth. He genuinely didn’t know where Liam was. But the assassins hadn’t believed him. Or perhaps they simply hadn’t cared whether he was telling the truth or not.

They’d threatened him. Broken several display pieces. Knocked over furniture. And when Master Han had continued to insist he knew nothing, one of them had "accidentally" knocked a hot piece of metal into the old blacksmith’s forearm, leaving a burn that would take weeks to heal properly.

After that first visit, the assassins had waited. Five days of tense silence had passed, during which Master Han had tried to continue his work despite the pain and the fear. The burn on his arm made forging difficult, but he’d pushed through it, determined not to let them break his spirit.

But when those five days passed without any sign of Liam appearing, the assassins had returned.

The second visit had been far worse than the first.

This time, they hadn’t bothered with threats or warnings. They’d simply destroyed everything. The counter had been split down the middle with what Luo described as a single devastating palm strike. And Master Han himself had been thrown against the wall hard enough to leave him with cracked ribs and a limp that would persist for weeks.

The message had been clear: if Liam didn’t appear, the consequences would continue to escalate.

Before leaving, one of the assassins had delivered a final threat that made Luo’s voice shake even now, weeks later, as he recounted it. "If we see smoke from this forge again before he shows his face, we’ll make sure you never work again. Do you understand, old man? We’ll cripple your hands so thoroughly that you won’t even be able to hold chopsticks."

Master Han had understood perfectly.

But the old blacksmith was stubborn. After a week of recovery, once the worst of his injuries had healed enough that he could move without agony shooting through his ribs, he’d done exactly what he’d been told not to do.

He’d opened the shop again.

Master Han had reopened the shop. It had been an act of defiance, a refusal to let fear dictate his life. Or perhaps, Luo admitted quietly, it had been the action of an old man who simply didn’t know how to be anything other than a blacksmith.

The assassins had kept their promise.

They’d returned three days later, and this time there had been no pretense of restraint. They’d beaten Master Han thoroughly, with the clear intent of sending a message that would be impossible to ignore. When they’d finished, the old blacksmith had been left with injuries that went beyond simple bruises and cuts.

His left hand, his hammer hand, the one he’d used to shape metal for decades, had been deliberately damaged. The assassins had stomped on it, grinding his fingers against the shop’s stone floor until bones cracked and ligaments tore. His right leg had received similar treatment, leaving him with a limp that might never fully heal.

For a blacksmith, these injuries were tantamount to crippling. Master Han could barely walk. He couldn’t grip his hammer properly. The precise control and strength required for his craft had been stolen from him.

That had been roughly two months ago.

Since then, the forge had remained cold. The shop had stayed locked. Master Han had retreated to his small home and hadn’t emerged. The injuries had healed as much as they were going to without proper medical intervention, which would have required resources Master Han didn’t currently possess, but the damage was lasting.

Luo’s voice had grown progressively quieter as he’d recounted this part of the story, shame and helplessness evident in every word. He’d watched his master suffer and had been completely powerless to prevent it. The assassins were Golden Core experts, far beyond anything a mere Qi Refining cultivator could challenge. Luo might as well have tried to stop a hurricane with his bare hands.

"I came here today to pack what weapons are still intact," Luo had finished, his voice barely above a whisper. "Master Han needs the money. His savings are depleted from buying medicine and paying for a physician who could do little more than confirm what we already knew, that his hand might never work properly again. So I’m going to sell what I can salvage and then close the shop permanently. There’s nothing left here anyway."

The defeat in those final words had been absolute.

Liam’s fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles went white. His jaw set in a hard line as he processed the full scope of what had been done to Master Han.

This went beyond simple intimidation or pressure. The assassins had properly destroyed an innocent man’s life for no reason other than their inability to find their actual target.

"I’m going to fix everything," Liam said, his voice carrying absolute certainty despite the quiet tone. "But first, I need to see Master Han."

Luo looked at him for a long moment, and despite the conviction in Liam’s words, the apprentice’s expression remained skeptical. A weak smile crossed his face.

What could Liam possibly do that would change the situation? Master Han’s hands were damaged. His shop was destroyed. The assassins would return the moment they sensed any sign of activity. And hanging over everything was the simple fact that Liam couldn’t stay in Blackstone City forever. Eventually, he’d leave again, and when he did, the assassins would return to finish what they’d started.

Liam saw the defeated look on Luo’s face and sighed internally. He could guess at the thoughts running through the young man’s head, the cascade of despair and hopelessness that had settled over him like a shroud after months of watching his master suffer.

He couldn’t let Luo continue wallowing in that feeling.

Liam reached out and slapped Luo’s face in a light tap, meant to break through the fog of defeat rather than cause pain.

"Get yourself together," Liam said firmly. "This isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. I intend to make those assassins pay for everything they’ve done. And more than that, I’m going to make the entire organization behind them regret that they ever heard Master Han’s name. But first, before any of that, I need to see him. I need to see Master Han with my own eyes."

Luo blinked, the light slap having achieved its intended effect. He looked at Liam for a moment, and seemed to see something in the other man’s expression that gave him a sliver of hope he didn’t want to acknowledge but couldn’t quite suppress.

"Help me up," Luo said quietly.

Liam nodded and reached down, grasping Luo’s arm and pulling him to his feet with easy strength. As he did, he spotted the storage ring that Luo had dropped earlier still lying on the debris-covered floor. He bent to retrieve it, brushing off dust before handing it back to its owner.

"Thank you," Luo said, accepting the ring and slipping it onto his finger. He took a breath, steadying himself, then gestured toward the destroyed entrance. "Follow me. I’ll take you to Master Han."

Luo started walking toward the door, and Liam fell into step behind him. As they moved through the ruined shop, Liam’s eyes swept across the destruction one final time. Most prominently, that cold, dead forge that represented everything the assassins had stolen from Master Han.

His resolve, already firm, hardened into absolute certainty. He had already made up his mind, and nothing would change his decision.

The Devouring Petal Pavilion would pay. Every single person involved in this atrocity would face consequences so severe that other organizations would speak of it in hushed tones for years to come.

They emerged onto the street, and Luo led the way through Blackstone City’s afternoon crowds. People gave them a wide berth—or more accurately, gave Liam a wide berth.

His aura preceded him like an invisible warning, causing cultivators and mortals alike to unconsciously alter their paths to avoid getting too close.

They walked in silence for several minutes, their footsteps creating a rhythm that was almost meditative. Then, finally, Luo broke the quiet.

"How are you so different?" he asked, not looking at Liam but keeping his eyes forward. "Why are you so different from before? When you left, you were powerful, yes, but you felt... normal. Human. Now you feel like something else entirely. What happened to you?"

Liam considered the question carefully. There was genuine curiosity there. Luo was trying to understand why he was so different.

"A lot happened," Liam said finally, choosing his words with care. "Things that would take hours to explain properly. But none of those things. None of what happened are as important right now as seeing Master Han. Everything else can wait. He can’t."

Luo nodded slowly, accepting the non-answer for what it was. "I’m glad you care about him," he said quietly. "I knew, even when I was shouting at you back in the shop, that you hadn’t been in the city when the assassins came. If you had been anywhere close, you would have come to our aid. Master Han said the same thing, actually. He never blamed you for not being there. He just... accepted what happened as his own bad fortune."

The young man’s voice grew thick with emotion. "I’m sorry for raising my voice at you, Grandmaster. For the accusations. I’ve had so much anger and frustration building up inside me for months, with nowhere to direct it. When I saw you standing there, everything just... exploded. But it wasn’t fair. You didn’t know what was happening, and you came back as soon as you could."

Liam’s expression softened. "Don’t apologize," he said firmly. "Everything you said back there was justified. You had every right to be angry, and you had every right to voice that anger. I’m not offended, Luo. If anything, I’m glad you were honest about how you felt rather than pretending everything was fine."

"Thank you, Grandmaster," Luo said quietly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

They continued walking, leaving the commercial district behind and entering a quieter residential area.

The houses here were modest but well-maintained, homes of craftsmen and small merchants who made honest livings with their skills.

After another few minutes, Luo finally stopped in front of a small house.

"This is it," Luo said, reaching for the door handle. He pushed it open and gestured for Liam to enter. "Please, come in."

Liam nodded and stepped through the doorway, entering Master Han’s home for the first time.

A small courtyard separated the entrance from the main house, with a few hardy plants growing in neat rows that showed someone had been maintaining them despite everything else falling apart.

They crossed the courtyard, their footsteps quiet on the stone path, and approached the main house.

"Master!" Luo called out, his voice carrying clearly through the afternoon air. "I’ve returned! And I’ve brought Grandmaster with me!"

Luo would never dare call Liam by his name in Master Han’s presence. Using Liam’s given name would earn Luo a beating—injured hands or not, Master Han would find a way to deliver a lesson about proper decorum.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then came the sound of movement from inside the house. Slow, shuffling footsteps.

Master Han stepped through the doorway, and Liam’s chest tightened at the sight.

The old blacksmith was limping slightly, his right leg clearly unable to bear his full weight. He held a forging hammer in his right hand.

His left hand, the one the assassins had deliberately crippled, was wrapped in bandages that looked like they’d been changed recently but couldn’t hide the way his fingers curled at unnatural angles.

But despite the injuries, despite the obvious pain that every movement must have caused, Master Han’s face broke into a bright smile the moment his eyes found Liam standing in his courtyard.

He straightened as much as his damaged leg would allow and gave a deep, respectful bow.

"Master," Master Han said, his voice warm despite everything he’d endured. "Welcome. This humble disciple is honored by your presence."