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In a wooded area around the perimeter of the Leopold Family’s villa, Julius Reed was tending to Lucan Davenport’s wounds.

Not long ago, Hamza’s flying darts had burst forth, one of them striking Lucan squarely in the calf.

If Julius hadn’t arrived in time, Lucan might have ended up either dead or captured.

“I underestimated the situation,” Lucan said with a wry smile, scratching his head in embarrassment.

He considered himself a master of swordsmanship and often engaged in risky ventures.

For instance, this time, after killing the sect members who were out on a mission, he had quietly hidden in a nearby tree to watch the aftermath.

But he didn’t expect the Saint Heir, with his keen sense of smell, to detect his presence from over a dozen meters away.

When a burst of Skyfire came hurtling towards him, he was so busy fleeing that he paid no attention to Hamza’s hidden dart box.

No matter how capable Lucan was, there’s an old saying: if you frequently walk by the river, you are bound to get your shoes wet.

“I had a feeling something would happen to you. Remember this lesson, or next time I might not be able to look out for you. It would be such a waste if you died so young.” Julius patted Lucan on the shoulder, and they continued to watch the video feed from the meeting room of the Leopold Family.

A week earlier, Julius had instructed Black Dog to sneak into various Leopold Family villas under the guise of Brayden Leopold inspecting the properties, seizing the opportunity to replace the security cameras with espionage cameras.

With the correct password, one could access information from various locations in the Leopold Family.

“Saint Heir, I know you hold a lofty position within the sect and are the heir apparent to the Sect Hierarch. But you cannot make baseless accusations!” Hamza pointed angrily at the Saint Heir, ignoring the wound on his shoulder, and rebuked harshly, “I’ve given my life to the cause of Skyfire for decades, if not with merit, then with hard labor! But to accuse me thus is an insult!”

Hamza’s stance silenced many.

They were also longtime devotees of Skyfire, having joined the sect for decades.

If they met the same fate as Hamza, it would surely leave them feeling cold.

Over the years, Hamza’s contributions to Skyfire were well recognized, and everyone was aware of his merits.

The well-known feuds between the Saint Heir and Hamza also didn’t help matters.

The implications were clear to anyone within Skyfire.

However, factional strife was nothing new and was a common occurrence throughout history.

“Hamza, what are you getting worked up for?” The Saint Heir lifted his eyes, glancing at Hamza. “I didn’t say you were a traitor. I am just curious about this matter. All you need to do is answer truthfully, and everyone will make their own judgement.”

The meeting room fell into silence once again.

“I’ve been carrying out missions for many years, and no matter when, I like to accompany my troops for a while to ensure full success,” Hamza explained with furrowed brows and patience. “Today, I felt uneasy after dispatching this group. I followed in the direction of their departure, and not ten meters out, I found a slaughterhouse of corpses.”

Upon saying this, he stood up and faced his colleagues, hands clasped in salute. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must know what kind of person I, Hamza, am. My combat habits are even more familiar to you! More than half of the dangerous missions within Skyfire have been carried out under my lead!”

Snap!

With that, he tore open his shirt, revealing scars all over his body.

On his chest and back, there were dozens of scars.

Hamza clenched his fists tightly, his voice filled with passion. “Step forth and see who has more scars than I do!”

At his shout, everyone lowered their heads, not knowing how to begin speaking.

Even the Saint Heir fell into awkwardness.

Hamza charged into battle, often carrying out extremely dangerous missions; no one doubted his loyalty to Skyfire.

This was also the reason he became the Sect Hierarch’s confidant.

Yet, the more he did so, the more uncomfortable the Saint Heir felt.

“Leader Eulalia, I will ask you one last thing,” said the Saint Heir, sitting in the chair with a grave expression. “Since you were present where the follower died, why didn’t the person nearby strike at you?”

“Indeed! When the Saint Heir discovered that person, there was only a ten-meter distance between you, and Hamza was completely unaware! If we estimate the distance at the time of the crime, the assassin must have been within three meters of Hamza! If the opponent was within three meters and still unnoticed, why didn’t the Shadow Warrior make a move?”

“You’re making sense! Such close proximity absolutely allows for a lethal strike! Leader Eulalia might be strong, but the Shadow Warrior is not weak at all!”

“It makes no sense! To kill so many followers, but not to kill a Skyfire leader? Unless the assassin is out of his mind!”

Facing everyone’s doubt, Hamza’s face turned red, yet he was at a loss for words.

Yes, the Shadow Warrior had been so close to him, and at that moment, he had been so frightened by the horrific deaths of the followers that he had never considered the murderer would stay behind.

If the assassin had chosen to strike then, he would be a corpse by now.

From the brief engagement earlier, it was clear that the perpetrator’s strength was no less than his own, and had they attacked then, they surely would have succeeded.

Yet, the assassin did not strike but instead fled chaotically after being discovered by the Saint Heir.

“But I was injured as well!” Hamza pointed to the wound on his arm, his bandage already soaked with blood due to the severity of his emotions.

“An arrow shot right through my bone. For anyone else, that would have been a fatal shot! It was only because I was agile that I barely managed to avoid the vital spot!”

Now, he had no other way to prove his innocence except for the wound on his body.

The steel arrow penetrated deep into the wood, and even someone as tough as Hamza had his bone broken by the shot.

“Have you ever heard of the Art of War from the East? It mentions a tactic called the stratagem of injury-to-self!” said the Saint Heir, slowly standing up from his seat and looking around at everyone before setting his eyes on Hamza. “If it were not for this arrow, I might be inclined to believe in your innocence. But this arrow, it is precisely the ruse your accomplice used to protect you, employing the stratagem of injury-to-self!”

“Why didn’t you die? That arrow was extremely vicious, and even I cannot guarantee survival from it! It was a hidden arrow! But you, Leader Eulalia, managed to spot this arrow while dodging the flying darts meant for the assassin, avoiding the vital part and only breaking an arm!”

The Saint Heir slowly walked up to Hamza. “Leader Eulalia, what do you think?”

“Slanderer!” Hamza stood up suddenly from his seat, staring at the Saint Heir. “You are the traitor! I, Hamza, have given everything to Skyfire, even my life is expendable!”

“How bold!”

A person clad in armor stepped forward and said coldly, “Leader Eulalia, you dare accuse the Saint Heir of being a traitor; this has already violated our doctrine. According to the laws of Skyfire, you must be confined! As for the verdict, we will wait for the Sect Hierarch’s judgment.”

The armored man gestured, and people in similar attire immediately entered the room.

They were the Law Enforcement Hall of Skyfire, accompanying the action team and supervising everyone’s movements.

“Spice it up for them.”

Watching this scene on the screen, Julius Reed pressed the send button on his cell phone.