The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King

The spiritual fire in the Cinnabar Tower could stir the violent tendencies of a sorcerer. If John truly was one, then he would avoid reaching the seventh floor—lest he lose control.

Mark had considered this possibility. He glanced at Nancy and asked, "What did you say about John's personality?"

"Overbearing and aggressive," she replied without hesitation. The image of John slaughtering the three masters that night was etched into her memory—it had been brutal and overwhelming.

She had never met anyone so relentlessly fierce.

Mark nodded. "A person like that is competitive to the bone. He'll push to reach the seventh floor or higher. If he doesn't, he's hiding something."

Although Mark had told John to casually pick a tripod, he knew someone like John wouldn't do anything halfheartedly. He'd fight his way up, even if it wasn't necessary.

After all, he had already proven his strength—defeating cultivators in the golden crystal period. Reaching the eighth or ninth floor of the tower should be no challenge for him.

So, if John had the power but chose to stop below the seventh floor, that could only mean one thing:

He was suppressing something. Hiding something.

"You're saying," Nancy said with a frown, "that if he doesn't reach the seventh floor, then he must be a sorcerer?"

She found the logic... uncomfortable. The entire test was based on Mark's psychological analysis of John's personality. What if Mark was wrong?

"What if," she continued, "he just wants to pick a simple tripod from the lower floors?"

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Mark responded in a low voice, "He might very well choose an ordinary one—for Tracy's sake—but he could still go up and take a look."

The Holy Fire Tripod inside Tracy's body was unparalleled—nothing else in the tower could compare.

To keep it hidden, the best strategy was to pick a decoy tripod that looked plain and unremarkable.

If the second tripod was too valuable, people might still covet it—even if it wasn't as powerful as the Holy Fire Tripod. That would defeat the purpose of using it as a cover.

The safest option? Select the most basic tripod available.

If John was truly clever, he'd pick from the lower floors.

And yet... Mark believed he would still climb higher. Not for the tripod—but out of sheer curiosity and competitiveness.

Besides, Mark had deliberately mentioned only the first ten floors, leaving the eleventh and twelfth a mystery.

A man like John wouldn't resist the temptation to see what lay above.

So, if John stopped below the seventh floor, it would mean one thing: he was resisting. Hiding. Afraid.

And that could only happen if he was a sorcerer.

Mark's eyes turned cold.

"If I'm wrong in my analysis," he said grimly, "I'd still rather kill him than let him go. I won't risk letting a sorcerer grow stronger."

Even with John's current strength, Mark was confident the mountain-protecting array could suppress and kill him if needed.

Nancy swallowed. A chill ran down her spine.

Based on Mark's logic, John only had one chance to live:

He had to reach the seventh floor without losing control.

Any other outcome—any loss of composure, or simply stopping below the seventh floor—would lead to his death.

Even if he became violent due to the spiritual fire...

Even if he stopped climbing for some innocent reason...

It wouldn't matter.

Mark had already decided.

He would kill John rather than let him walk away.

Nancy sighed heavily. "What if Tracy can't accept it?"

Mark's expression didn't waver. "Whether she accepts it or not, we can't allow a sorcerer to live. If he grows stronger, it'll spell disaster—not just for our sect, but for the world."

Mark had admired Tracy's talent since their first meeting. But admiration couldn't cloud judgment.

This was war against darkness. If John was a sorcerer, he had to die—no matter the cost.

Nancy said nothing.

Mark left her in silence and headed toward the first floor of the tower. He looked around.

John was nowhere in sight.

That could only mean he'd already gone up.

It confirmed Mark's assumptions.

Most of the tripods were on the first floor—and they were the most ordinary ones. If John had already moved beyond them, it meant he was climbing.

In a dim corner, an elderly man sat cross-legged, eyes closed. Unmoving.

He was the guardian of the Cinnabar Tower—and even more powerful than Mark himself.

Mark approached and spoke quietly. "Mr. Lance, which floor is the young man on?"

"Sixth," the old man said without opening his eyes.

"The sixth floor..." Mark murmured, turning to Nancy.

Their expressions grew complicated.

Just one more floor...

If John climbed even one level higher, the spiritual fire would begin affecting him.

Why had he stopped?

Was he truly afraid he would lose control?

Mark itched to go upstairs and see for himself, but he held back. If John noticed him following, it might raise suspicion.

Instead, he decided to wait. Later, he would ask Zack to confirm whether John made it to the seventh floor.

If John did, and the fire triggered his rage—Mark would feel it.

And then, without hesitation, he would activate the mountain-protecting array and unleash its power to destroy John on the spot.

Meanwhile, on the sixth floor of the Cinnabar Tower...

John stood silently.

This floor had far fewer tripods than the first—barely a dozen. But the quality was significantly higher.

And the heat...

The temperature was sweltering. Unnatural.

John could tell: this fire wasn't ordinary.

He also had a strong feeling...

He knew why Mark had wanted him inside the tower.