Legacy of a Benevolent Lord
Chapter 46: The Story of Cole Hart - The Forgotten...

Chapter 46: The Story of Cole Hart - The Forgotten...

Elsewhere.

The leader of the newly appointed Four Great Constables, titled [Pitiless] - Kael Thornmere, was a man whose legs no longer functioned.

He moved only with the aid of a custom-built wheelchair made of dark steel and reinforced wood.

Embedded with arrays and functions, the only things this wheelchair does not do are fly and give him champagne when he presses a red button.

[A/N: Too bad this wheelchair is not the one from Johnny English 2. Ahh... my childhood]

Disabled... yet throughout the martial world, his reputation was as solid as iron.

"Without legs, he travels ten thousand miles. With a thousand hands, no one can defend."

His hidden weapon techniques were unmatched. Even elite martial artists hesitated to face him directly.

His schemes were intricate and complex. His enemies never knew what hit them when they fell.

When Kael was ordered to track down Iron Hand Cole Hart, he searched high and low and.....

Found him doing something no one expected.

Handing out porridge.

The man was sitting there with a listless look, coarse clothes that once were the Governor Guard’s uniform, and a ladle in his hand.

It was fish porridge. Filled with sand. Bone fragments floated in it, too.

No one who had food would look at it twice.

But for those who were starving, whose stomachs had only known bark, roots, or soil, it was a source of warmth and comfort.

It was salvation.

People who haven’t truly starved don’t understand.

That kind of hunger can twist the mind, shatter pride, make a person gnaw on stone just to trick the belly.

Kael’s gaze moved across the camp. His expression shifted slightly when he spotted Cole Hart.

Slowly pushing the wheelchair towards the man, he asked, ever sharp but calm, "Iron Hand... you solved your case?"

Cole broke out of his listlessness.

He blinked, shook his head, and looked at the black-cloaked, black-masked man (covering his mouth and nose up to the nose bridge) sitting in a dark grey wheelchair, who had at some point in time appeared in front of him.

"Hmm?"

Then he widened his eyes slightly, then again got back to the way he used to be. Dull and listless.

Cole let out a long breath. "No."

"Then why this?"

By ’this,’ Kael gestured at everything and looked around again.

Cole Hart, the famed Iron Hand, one of the new four directions under the Divine Marquise, ladling soup for refugees.

If word of this got out, it’d be a joke in every tavern.

But Kael didn’t laugh. He watched in silence, then turned his gaze to the men helping Cole distribute the porridge.

Their clothes were those of fishermen. Their hands were not.

Rough faces. Tensed muscles. Balanced stances.

Each of them had received martial arts training.

"No need to look... they’re the Lake Pirates and River bandits from the Great Lake," Cole said.

Saying that, Cole nodded at one of them, who looked towards him with a simple greeting.

Kael’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous grin. "Divine enforcers and pirates handing out porridge together? Sounds like the start of a twisted legend."

"They’ve changed professions," Cole replied flatly.

"Oh?"

"There used to be thirty-six water bandit groups scattered in these parts of the Great Lake. Now there are none. At least none on the surface."

Kael’s smile faded. His brow lowered.

"You’re saying they just suddenly grew a conscience and gave up robbery?"

Cole gave a strange look. "They.... did.

Not only that, they traveled to the Sundawn state themselves. They turned themselves in. Each group donated ten thousand taels of silver to help with disaster relief."

Kael raised his eyebrows. "Did the sun rise from the west today?"

"Not just the sun," Cole said. "The moon, too."

"...The moon?"

"When the bandits talked about the two people who ’stopped’ them, they said it was like standing under both sun and moon at once. A weight too heavy to bear"

"No one could resist."

"No matter how many people they had."

"Small pirate groups were annihilated. All their martial techniques, inner energy, and hidden weapons reflected right back at them."

"The fifth-strongest among them, General of the Skies and the third, Thunder Hand, joined forces."

"Ten ships. A thousand men."

"Gone in one encounter. Massacred like dogs."

Kael’s expression darkened. "Using the enemies’ own methods against them? That sounds like something from the Murong line in these lands."

Cole shook his head. "No. It came from Sundawn Duke’s Manor."

Kael’s face tightened. His brows furrowed deeply.

"You came looking for me," Cole said, watching him. "Does this have to do with Sundawn Duke’s Manor?"

Kael nodded. "The Divine Marquise heard rumors that two very young Innate life ascendants appeared in Sundawn Duke’s Manor, and the Sundawn heir has a connection to the once-passed Standing Spear. He sent me to confirm."

The Divine Marquise. The man known as Overseer of the Four Directions in official records.

Though Kael was technically his disciple, they never used those master-disciple titles in public.

The moment Innate ascendants appeared at a noble house, which had recently stirred up political excitement, the news quickly spread among the Intel gatherers.

This was especially true since the Capital Ashvale household had announced that they possessed a very, very young Innate seed.

Cole Hart paused for a moment. Weighing the new piece of information.

The Standing Spear. The Glorious General who single-handedly stopped a Khitian Invasion, giving his life to protect millions of lives.

That man, Riveron, had a connection to him?

In a way... it made sense. Made sense that such a bloodline would give birth to such a child.

Cole replied, "You’re too late. They’re not at the Great Lake anymore. They’ve moved on."

"You met them?"

"Of course!!!

Otherwise, why do you think I’m out here ladling porridge?

I’m not acting as the Iron Hand right now, I’m simply Cole Hart.... the most average name you can find, which also happened to be my true name... covert agent of the Imperial City Division."

He raised his voice just for a moment and chuckled blandly.

Cole Hart: ლ(¯ロ¯"ლ)

One could see that, almost comically, his eyes did not have life anymore.

He was supposed to be recalled months ago. It’s almost a year since he has been there.

The case wasn’t solved yet. His cover couldn’t be broken. But his job still had to be done.

His name was a cover in itself.

Cole Hart. Even he knew four others who were Cole Hart.

The governor had ordered him to protect Riveron Ashvale.

Riven had him monitor the water bandits. The governor also tasked him with managing aid to the people.

Kael studied him for a moment. "So the rumors I’ve been hearing aren’t false."

"What rumors? I’ve been busy with the refugees. Haven’t paid attention to marital gossip."

"Well..." Kael leaned back. "They say Sundawn Duke’s heir had a miraculous encounter. That he now possesses the Heaven-tier martial art—Evil-Repelling Sword Manual."

Cole’s face tightened slightly.

"They also say he was gifted the Earth-tier technique, Star Shifting, from the Murong family."

"Hiss." Cole took a sharp breath.

He muttered, "That combination is enough to draw every lunatic in the martial world."

"That’s not all," Kael added. "There are whispers he found Emperor Nocthar’s treasure, or maybe even remnants from the bygone Southern Dynasties."

Cole’s tone dropped. "They’re trying to kill him."

Kael raised a brow. "You’re worried?"

Cole looked away. "He’s not a bad person."

Kael gave a slow nod. "Do you know where they went?"

"When they boarded their ship, I heard one of the stewards mention Stoneveil Mountains."

"Stoneveil Mountains..." Kael’s eyes narrowed. "Do you think he’s after the inheritance of the Lone Sword Demon?"

If someone asked who the strongest swordman to ever live in Ashenvale was, there would only be one answer.

The Lone Sword Demon.

A name so great, even the children would know it through a Nursery rhyme.

He had defeated every top swordsman in the realm he was in.

Then, he journeyed beyond—across the Nine Dynasty Realms, challenging their greatest masters.

He never lost. Not once.

Eventually, he grew so strong that no one could challenge him. Out of boredom, he sought defeat.

Searched and searched and kept searching.

He never found it.

Because of him, the so-called "Weak Ashenvale" rose to become one of the Nine Dynasty Realms.

When he came back to Ashenvale, he disappeared into the Stoneveil Mountains. Never to return.

Some say he ascended. Others say he was wounded and died. Some believe he sealed himself in a death chamber to cultivate until death or transcendence.

Even now, swordsmen flock to Stoneveil Mountains, hoping to find traces of his sword intent.

Even a remnant... could be enough to change a man’s life.

But was it easy?

The Stoneveil Mountains were a rugged and desolate rocky mountain range.

Stretching far into the distance. It was unimaginably vast.

Very few had crossed it to reach the other Dynasty realms.

Stoneveil Mountains suited the Lone Sword Demon.

Solitary and desolate.

Sharp and unbending.