Chapter one hundred and fifty one; Sinclair acting strangely Sinclair hung up the phone with Chris, her mind abuzz with thoughts of the sword he had mentioned. The moment she placed the phone down, she made a beeline for the study, determination etched on her face. The morning sun streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow on the meticulously organized space, but Sinclair had no time to appreciate the beauty of the room.She began pulling books from the shelves, her usually calm demeanor replaced by a sense of urgency that puzzled even her. The study, once pristine, was soon in disarray. Books piled on the desk, papers scattered across the floor as she searched frantically for anything related to ancient weaponry. She barely noticed the soft sound of footsteps as two of her maids entered the room, drawn by the commotion.“Miss Sinclair, is there something you’re looking for? We can help,” one of them offered, concern in her voice.But Sinclair barely glanced up, her

Chapter one hundred and fifty three; Final meeting before launching.It was late in the evening, and the MTD office was starting to empty as employees finished their work and headed home. The warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the large windows, casting long shadows across Chris’s desk as he reviewed the final details of his day. But there was one more meeting on his schedule before he could call it a night.Sandra Philips walked into his office, her footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floor. Dressed in a sleek navy suit, she carried herself with the poise of a seasoned professional, her sharp eyes scanning the room before they settled on Chris. She closed the door behind her quietly, ensuring their conversation would remain private.“Brother Chris “ she greeted him, a hint of tension in her voice. They both knew the stakes of this meeting were high. “Sandra, thanks for coming,” Chris replied, motioning for her to take a seat across from him. As she sat down

Chapter one hundred and fifty five; Ancient blades As Chris sat down to study the first of the two ancient books Sinclair had given him, he felt a sense of anticipation. The book was bound in dark, weathered leather, its edges worn smooth by the passage of time. The cover bore intricate designs—swirling patterns that seemed to shimmer faintly in the light, hinting at the secrets within. The title, written in an ancient script, was barely legible, but Chris could make out the words: ‘Ancient Blades: A Compendium of Historical Swords and Weapons' He opened the book carefully, the pages brittle with age. The first few pages were filled with dense text, written in the same ancient script. As he read, he realized the book was a comprehensive guide to cultivation weapons, there are artifacts imbued with powerful energies that grew stronger with their wielder. These weapons were not merely tools; they were extensions of the cultivator's soul, evolving as their master did, unlocking n

Chapter one hundred and fifty seven; Disgracing your wife. The morning sun filtered through the curtains as Chris descended the staircase, heading for the door to start his day. He had his usual calm demeanor, his mind already buzzing with the tasks that awaited him at work. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, however, Eleanor was waiting for him, her arms crossed and a critical look on her face. It was clear from her expression that she had something on her mind, and Chris braced himself for whatever she was about to say. "Chris, we need to talk," Eleanor began, her voice firm but laced with the kind of concern that only a mother could muster. “You cannot keep going out in public dressed like this. It's embarrassing, not just for you, but for Stephnay as well, it’s disgraceful for her.” Chris looked down at his outfit. He was dressed in his a plain button down shirt that he had bought from a convenient store the other day and a pair of slacks that, while comfortable, were f

Chapter one hundred and fifty nine; her husband’s mannequin Stephnay’s eyes drifted to the left side of the boutique, and she spotted a young man who seemed to be in his early to late twenties. He had a similar build to Chris—neither too slim nor too bulky, a balanced physique that spoke of strength without excess. The man’s body had a subtle, athletic shape, as if he worked out just enough to maintain a toned appearance without overdoing it. His clothes fit him well, highlighting his broad shoulders and trim waist, much like how Chris’s clothes would fit when he wasn’t in his usual thrifted attire. The main difference between this man and Chris, however, was in their faces. While Chris had a clean-shaven, almost boyish look, this man sported a neatly trimmed beard that added a touch of ruggedness to his features. His facial structure was different too, with a slightly sharper jawline and more angular cheekbones. But in terms of height, build, and general physique, they were st