The blade’s path seemed unremarkable, yet a hidden cadence rippled out like drifting clouds after summer rain, precisely the first motion of the Flowing Cloud salvaged from the Sword Sect’s fallen shrine. The elder’s eyes flared bright, banishing their haze. His breath caught.
“Excellent, truly the Flowing Cloud form!” “You have only sampled its surface,” said, awe twining with delight, “But the spirit is faultless, better than Lyra has yet managed.”
Lyra puffed cheeks in quiet protest yet offered no rebuttal; the verdict rang true. Setting his hoe aside, the elder stepped close, studying Jared’s posture the way a jeweler studies light through crystal. “Where did you learn that stroke? Speak plainly.”
Jared knew subterfuge would crumble beneath those eyes.
“Within a ruin on level three of the heavens,” confessed. “I didn’t realize it once belonged to the Sword Sect.”
Sorrow lined the elder’s face.
“So the old gate has become a ruin,” murmured. “Once we stood among the greatest in the third heaven, now reduced to dust and rumor…” He exhaled heavily. “Come inside. We will speak there…”
They entered a simple cottage, one rough-hewn table, a scattering of chairs, air scented with dried tea leaves still clinging to memory. Pouring three cups, the elder offered a faint smile.
“My name is Corin Morden,” said. “I was once the sect leader of the Sword Sect. When calamity struck, l escaped the third level with a handful of disciples, preserving a thread of our bloodline.”
Jared and Flaxseed exchanged startled glances; the old gardener had just revealed himself as a legend. Jared leaned in. “Mr. Corin, do you know of the Malevolent Path Hall?”
At the name, Corin’s expression hardened like frost on iron. “Why chase those devils?”
“They helped butcher the Flaxseed clan,” Jared said, his voice low and flint-edged. “They harvested the souls of his kin. We intend to bring them home, and take vengeance.”
Flaxseed’s usual grin vanished.
“Please, Mr. Corin,” pleaded, eyes bright with unshed fury, “help us free those souls. Let us avenge the clan!”
Corin fell silent, weighing purpose against peril.
“On the fifth level their power is vast,” said at last. “They traffic in souls, cultivate forbidden arts, and most factions keep their distance. Reprisal will not be easy.”
Jared closed his fingers around the steaming cup. “Hard or not, we have to try…”
Jared’s gaze burned with unshakable resolve.
“If I can uncover even a single branch of Malevolent Path Hall, I’ll stake my life to drag the Flaxseed clan’s lost souls back into the light.” Corin studied that fire, then gave a low chuckle and a nod. “Good spine, lad. But their satellite halls hide deep, walls thick with guards. You and Flaxseed alone won’t cross that threshold.”
“Then do you happen to know where one of those branches is?” Jared asked, hope flickering in his voice.
Corin shook his head. “Not precisely. Malevolent Path Hall moves in shadows. Only their inner circle keeps the maps.”
“Is there anyone who might know?” Jared pressed, refusing to yield to disappointment.
Corin tapped the air as though arranging memories. “In Swordmaster City stands Whispers Tower. They sell rumors the way smiths sell iron. Pay enough and perhaps a floor clerk will whisper Malevolent Path Hall’s location”
“Just remember,” added, voice lowering, “The tower answers to powers even I can‘t read. and truth is a slippery coin. Step carefully.”
Jared rose and bowed. “Thank you, Mr. Corin. We’ll head there at once…”
“Hold on…” Corin’s calm voice stopped them at the gate. “Your gift with a blade is rare. Why not pledge it to Sword Sect? Our ranks are thin. Even so, we can feed your training with manuals and ore, and with our sigil on your chest, no one in Swordmaster City would dare lay a hand on you.”
