I blew dust off the old book's cover, revealing faded gold lettering: "Modern History of Martial Arts." My fingers traced the embossed title, hoping this forgotten tome might finally contain information about my father. After everything that had happened—mastering two Divine Rank techniques in a single day and humiliating Cedric Holt—I deserved some answers.
The book was heavier than it looked, with brittle pages that crackled as I carefully turned them. I settled onto the dusty floor, crossing my legs and balancing the book on my knees.
My excitement quickly faded as I scanned page after page for my father's name. Nothing. Not a single mention. How could such an apparently remarkable man leave so little trace?
I was about to close the book in frustration when a chapter heading caught my eye: "The Fall of the Saints." Curious, I began reading.
