“Jared, what about that demon lord hiding in your consciousness field?” Flaxseed whispered, eyes flicking to the dark between trees. “Why hasn’t it lifted a finger to help you?”
Flaxseed squinted at Jared, curiosity flickering across his pockmarked face. Why isn’t that Vermilion Demon Lord stirring?
If you fall, his soul goes down with you, yet he’s quieter than a grave at midnight. Jared frowned, the crease between his brows deepening. He reached inward, voice low and tentative. “Mr. Vermilion, can you hear me?”
Only silence answered. “Uhm… I think he‘s playing dead,” Jared muttered at last. “We can’t count on anymore…”
“What about your fire unicorn?” Flaxseed pressed, hope creeping into his tone. Jared shook his head. “Fire unicorn, Divine Bow, those are last-resort trump cards. I won’t draw them unless the heavens themselves close in on us.”
He tapped the coiled whip at his waist. “If those Blackshade Demon Palace hounds keep dogging our trail, I’ll test the Demon Flogger. It was forged in the Ethereal Realm, but we no proof it can tame celestial realm’s demon cultivators. if its bite isn’t fierce enough, wielding it means nothing.”
Flaxseed bailed his fist, frustration flashing in his eyes. “Are we meant to run forever?”
“Absolutely not.” Jared’s eyes snapped open, flaring with resolve. “Running solves nothing. We strike first. Baldric and that black-robed phantom proved several factions joined in wiping out your clan. We’ll track them down, gather every shard of evidence, and break them, one by one…”
Flaxseed exhaled, shoulders sagging. “Nine Serpent Mountain crawls with sects. We can’t scour them all.”
“We don’t have to.” Jared unfolded a weather-worn hide map across the mossy ground. “Baldric mentioned a feud between Greenscale Gorge and Blackshade Palace. The gorge’s lord is already dead. We start with the remnants, follow the whispers.”
He tapped a crimson mark beside Greenscale Gorge. “Crimson Coil Sect, same serpent bloodline, close allies. With their friend slain, they won’t sit idle. We scout their borders, if things sour, we vanish.”
Flaxseed nodded, ambition rekindled. Revenge demanded momentum, not hesitation.
***
They rested half a day beside a crystal stream, drawing in cool mist until strength and spiritual energy crept back into their veins.
By dusk, they pressed on toward Serpentcoil Mountain, its ridges winding like an ancient python asleep beneath the clouds.
Dense jungle choked the slopes, and venomous snakes slithered through shadowed thickets, their hiss a constant warning.
Moving like ghosts, Jared and Flaxseed slipped past several Crimson Coil Sect patrols, snake demons of varied shapes, most at the first tier of the Earthly Immortal Realm, eyes sharp as blades seeking any hint of intruders.
Keeping his voice no louder than the sigh of wind through pine needles, Flaxseed leaned toward Jared.
“The Crimson Coil Sect is guarded even tighter than Blackwind Stronghold,” breathed. “Word of the Greenscale Gorge lord’s death has clearly reached them. They’ve doubled their watch…”
“That suits us just fine,” Jared replied, eyes fixed on the distant gate. “If they‘re focused on Blackwind Stronghold’s next move, they’ll never imagine hunters prowling behind their backs. We nab a lone snake demon, shake loose the truth, and slip away before anyone misses her.”
