This neglect was also one of the reasons he wanted to retire. He knew that if he wanted to prolong his life, he had to return to cultivating martial arts. As things stood, a Rank 2 martial artist's lifespan was about 150 years. But if he could reach Rank 3, his lifespan would immediately extend to 250 years.
After decades of fighting and leading, his once aggressive heart had been tempered. Now, more than anything, he wanted peace. His only goal was to step down responsibly, choose a capable president for Storm life Guild, and then focus on his own cultivation. When he eventually broke through to Rank 3, his name could still remain tied to Storm life Guild as one of its powerhouses. That recognition might even help the guild rise in status in the future.
Thinking this far, the president lifted his hand, gesturing for silence. The angry voices of the elders slowly faded as they all turned their attention back to him, waiting for what he would say next.
The president of the Storm Life Guild raised his hand firmly, stopping the heated voices that were threatening to spiral out of control. His tone was calm but carried weight.
"Stop, all of you. That's enough. Now listen to me."
The conference room slowly quieted. The seniors and elders of Storm Life Guild had been furious at the disrespectful tone Grimshade had used in his message to the president. To them, the president wasn't just their leader. After decades of struggle and growth together, their relationship had become brother-like. He was their elder brother, the one who had led them through countless storms. And for someone to insult their big brother no matter who it was meant that person deserved to pay a heavy price.
But when the president spoke, they listened. The voices of anger died down, and every pair of eyes turned toward him.
"The first message," the president began, "is nothing worth thinking about. I already said so. But the second message the one from Grim shade was different. Just like you, I also wondered, how could someone dare send me a message like that? Where did he find the courage to speak in that tone to me?"
The president slowly stood up. He walked toward the tall window at the far end of the conference room. With his back to the table and his gaze on the cityscape outside, his voice grew steadier.
"So I did some checking. And this man, Grim shade… he is a member of the Underworld."
The words struck the table like thunder. At once, some of the elders looked shocked, their faces stiff. Others remained confused, not recognizing the name.
It was normal. The Underworld was a hidden power. Despite being a gold-level organization, they were so well concealed that unless someone had direct dealings with them or had crossed paths with their influence they might never even hear the name. Only those who had been involved in business with them, or whose allies had connections to them, truly knew what kind of entity the Underworld was.
Turning back to face the table, the president studied the mix of shock and confusion on the elders' faces. Then he explained further.
"The Underworld is a gold-level power. Think of it as a vast chamber of commerce. It is made up of many businesses and organizations tied together, working as one. Its influence is wide, and in terms of strength, it stands at the very top among gold-level powers."
The elders who had been furious moments ago now looked as if someone had poured cold water over them. Their angry expressions faded, replaced by solemn silence. The weight of the president's words sank in deeply.
Seeing their grim faces, the president continued slowly.
"I know we have all been through much together. This Storm Life Guild is the result of our lifelong hard work. If I were a little younger, perhaps I would have sent back a reply to Grim shade. Maybe something like: 'Take care of your own business and stop meddling in mine.' But that is no longer the case. We are already old. What we need now is stability. And I know that is what you all want as well."
Around the table, several elders nodded quietly. Some wore hesitant expressions, reluctant to admit it, but in the end, they too nodded. The fire that had burned inside them moments ago had dimmed.
Seeing their agreement, the president gave a small nod of his own. "Then I suppose we don't have much else to decide. Zephyr is talented, and he may be disappointed, but I believe the boy will understand our thoughts. For the sake of stability, I suggest we go with Derick as the candidate for president after I retire."
The room was silent, all eyes on him as he outlined his decision.
"As for my own stake," he continued, "I will only keep ten percent of the shares. The rest, I will sell to Derick. If he cannot afford to buy them all at once, then I will lend them to him, and he can purchase them in installments. As for your shares," he looked around the table, "you may do as you wish."
He turned back and walked slowly to his chair, his steps steady but heavy. Sitting down again, he leaned back and folded his hands in front of him.
Some of the elders spoke up. A few agreed to sell their shares as well, some even offering to lend them to Derick so he could gather enough to firmly secure his position. Others said they would keep their small portions, since their shares were already minor, it made little difference in the greater picture.
But the president's thoughts had already drifted elsewhere. He sat there, gazing at the conference table, his sharp eyes softened with reminiscence. His back was slightly hunched, a sign of the years that weighed upon him.
He knew well that his decision could be called weakness. Perhaps others might say he was being cowardly, or even selfish, choosing safety over ambition. But what did it matter? He had given all of his life, all of his energy, to building Storm Life Guild. He had poured in his youth, his strength, and his fire.
Now, in his later years, what he wanted was no longer conquest. What he wanted was peace. To him, ensuring stability for the guild and then retiring to a quieter life was enough.
Whatever others chose to call it cowardice, selfishness, or surrender it made no difference to him anymore. He had given everything he could. And now, at last, it was time for him to rest.
….
At this time, Kaito had just stepped out of the shower, completely unaware of the butterfly effect that was quietly altering the course of his life. Wiping the steam from his face, he left the bath and walked back into his room.
There, his eyes went straight to a large case placed against the wall. He unlocked it and lifted the lid, revealing the weapon inside the Rank 1 sword. It was the same sword he had brought earlier from the Ren family villa in Silver Crest City. The blade gleamed faintly under the light, carrying with it both weight and familiarity.
Kaito carefully set it aside and then reached for a few essentials. From his storage, he pulled out hemostatic and several important medicines that might be needed later. After arranging everything, he changed into a set of gym clothes, simple but comfortable.
Once ready, he left his room and made his way toward the gym in the ancestral estate, where his cousins and others were playing Glory.