The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King-Chapter 162: The Management Mode of the Shadow Pavilion

They had cultivated a formidable martial master. A man still under forty, yet strong enough to enter the Transformation Realm. His name: Sawyer Welch, a name now whispered with reverence across the martial world.

He was ranked thirty-eighth on the national Master List—an astonishing feat for someone so young. Due to a physical abnormality, he only had eight fingers, earning him the fearsome moniker "The Eight-Finger Master."

In contrast, Adam Kelvin's ranking had slipped to somewhere in the eighties. Though rankings could fluctuate, the gap between him and Sawyer Welch was undeniable.

More concerning was Sawyer's youth—he wasn't just powerful; he was ascending. His potential was terrifying.

At this point, Zoey Redman cast a meaningful glance toward John, almost reflexively. John wasn't on the Master List. That much was certain. But if he ever was, it would shake the martial world to its core.

Still, the Master List was never perfect. People slipped through the cracks all the time.

"This return of Sawyer Welch... it wasn't just to say hello," Zoey murmured.

His tone darkened.

"He came back to settle the score. He's challenged the Kelvin clan. After several rounds of provocation, Alfred Kelvin had no choice but to accept the duel. It's scheduled for the 10th of next month. They've even placed a wager—the loser must withdraw from Chicago City."

Exactly like how the Welch clan had been driven out, years ago.

The martial community had already begun placing bets. Most believed the Welch clan would emerge victorious. As a result, businesses tied to the Kelvin clan were growing distant. Some had even begun cozying up to the Welch family.

With no attempt to conceal his shame, Zoey muttered, "Honestly... even our Redman clan has just been watching from the sidelines."

Marcia's expression shifted. She was silent for a long time. She hadn't expected things to spiral this badly for the Kelvin clan. Still, she didn't blame Zoey. In the world of martial clans, such gambles were commonplace. At least this one was relatively civil—no bloodshed, thanks to the suppression efforts of the Martial League.

If the League hadn't intervened, things could've turned into a massacre.

While Marcia and Zoey spoke, John stood nearby, listening quietly. His expression remained unchanged, as though he were hearing about strangers in a faraway land. It had nothing to do with him—and he seemed completely content with that fact.

"Tch... those guys at the League must be really bored," John muttered, shaking his head. "They actually took the time to make a Master List. Nothing better to do?"

Just as the story was about to take a more serious turn, Alice Moon appeared beside John.

"Hey, Little John," she said, tugging on his sleeve. "Come to the bar with me."

John turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "The bar? You? Aren't you the queen of freeloaders? Planning to drown your sorrows in alcohol? Don't tell me you're heartbroken like Kate."

Since becoming a cultivator, Alice Moon had more or less retired from managing the bar, leaving operations to her subordinates. She also hadn't mentioned her killer career again. From what John guessed, the "night-walking" suit hidden in her closet had probably already gone up in flames.

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Her whole vibe screamed "no proper business being done."

"Screw you. What nonsense are you even spouting?" she snapped, flicking his forehead and dragging him out of the clinic without so much as a word to Tracy Linch.

John, now curious, followed along. "What's going on? You look serious."

Alice's pace was brisk, her face unreadable. Finally, she said, "John, since you already know I used to be a killer, I won't hide it from you. I'm going to meet someone—his code name is Hawkeye. He's my former supervisor in the Shadow Pavilion."

The name made John pause.

The Shadow Pavilion—an underground organization cloaked in secrecy and death. Assassins operated in isolated cells of three, each member using a codename to prevent exposure. Their identities were known only to their direct supervisor.

Alice's codename had been Night Rose. Her two teammates? The infamous Black and White Ghosts—both of whom had been slain by John not long ago.

Now, only Hawkeye remained—the only one who knew Alice's true identity.

"If I'm right," Alice said grimly, "this meeting is about the deaths of Black and White."

She brought John for one reason: backup.

John tilted his head. "Then why not just kill him? If Hawkeye dies, wouldn't that sever your ties to the Pavilion for good?"

Alice nodded. "Yes. Hawkeye's superiors don't know who I am. If I kill him, no one else will."

That was the brilliance—and ruthlessness—of the Pavilion's structure. Even if an entire team was wiped out, the rest of the organization remained intact. Each layer insulated the next. Tracing a killer's identity upward through the ranks was a nightmare of dead ends, unless you stripped the hierarchy away one painful layer at a time.

Which, of course, gave the Pavilion ample time to shift, adapt, and erase all evidence.

John let out a low whistle. "Damn... I just realized you should've been on Sister Bertha's shit list. How the hell did you survive all these years?"

Alice gave him a sideways glance, cold and sharp. "I didn't even know she was the Central Region's League Leader until a few days ago. Besides, I was good at hiding my identity... until you showed up and ruined everything."

John grinned. "Heh, I feel kind of honored. So, Alice... why'd you join the Shadow Pavilion in the first place? And why are you leaving now?"

Judging by her cold demeanor, this trip to see Hawkeye wasn't for a friendly reunion. She intended to kill him. Only through his death could she finally sever her connection to that dark, bloodstained organization.

Alice's face turned distant. "Let's talk about that later. First, we finish what needs to be done."