“Look out!” Jared shoved Flaxseed aside and took the blow himself. Fabric split with a wet rip. Five grooves, bone-deep and oozing black miasma, painted his back crimson.
“Jared!” Flaxseed’s howl cracked through the haze of embers. Desperation filled his eyes. Dozens of talismans spiraled outward, some rose as earthen bulwarks, others speared into ice lances, still more unraveled into binding vines.
For a fleeting breath, they stalled the guards’ and Drystan’s advance. Yet Flaxseed was only a first-tier Earthly immortal. Reincarnated strength unfinished, his spirit drained like water through a cracked jar. Sweat the size of pearls glittered on his forehead.
Drystan’s smile thinned. The next claw strike blurred, tearing through vines and slamming against Flaxseed’s chest.
Flaxseed spat blood as cartwheeled across the courtyard, talisman papers scattering like dying leaves before landed at Jared’s side.
“Now then, tell me, who is left to rescue the lot of you?” Drystan drawled, his words scraping across the rubble-strewn street like iron on stone.
He moved in measured strides. Each step rolled out eighth-tier Earthly-Immortal pressure, hammering Jared and Flaxseed so hard their ribs rattled and breath came only in ragged gasps.
Right then, a guttural war cry from the far corner. “Touch my savior and die, you cur!”
Kishor burst into view atop a whirling black-iron battle-axe, scarlet energy twisting around the broad blade like living flame.
Skimming his wake came Alice, sapphire-hilted dagger gleaming in grip. Runes glided over the weapon’s edge, a Whispers Tower masterpiece, the Spell-Breaker Dagger, crafted to rip straight through a cultivator’s shielding aura. Flaxseed’s face lit with bruised relief.
“Kishor!” croaked, forcing broken ribs to let rise.
“I am the commander of the Celestial Palace’s Sixth Hall,” Drystan announced, voice suddenly frigid with authority. “Leave, or face my wrath!”
The title boomed like a royal decree, meant to clear the field so could finish Jared unchallenged.
“Commander or gutter rat! It makes no difference!” Kishor spat. “Lay one finger on Mr. Chance and even the gods can’t save you!”
His axe crashed downward; wind from the swing whipped loose cobbles into a stinging storm.
“Your Celestial Palace bullies level five as if wandering cultivators are sheep,” growled, spirits flowing freer than ever.
Though still a sliver shy of eighth tier Earthly immortal, fierce resolve lent his seventh-tier peak the weight of a realm above.
Drystan sneered. “A seventh-tier mongrel dares meddle in Palace affairs?”
His Shackling Claw met the axe with a screech that split the air, then slid snake-swift along the spine to slash for Kishor’s wrist. Kishor twisted, but talons grazed his arm, bright beads of blood spattering the stones.
“Kishor!” Alice’s cry rang sharp as breaking glass.
She darted in, dagger flashing blue as lightning and driving for Drystan’s ribs. Though power had slipped to fifth tier, footwork flowed like river water, every rune on the dagger shredded the lord’s aura, gifting Kishor a precious heartbeat to draw breath.
The street dissolved into chaos. Kishor’s great axe carved wide, sheltering arcs before Jared and Flaxseed.
Alice’s dagger danced, forever hunting the tiniest seam in Drystan’s guard. Behind them, Jared and Flaxseed steadied their breaths, unleashing sudden, surgical strikes whenever a gap appeared.
Yet Drystan’s strength was an ocean. Eighth-tier energy surged through his claw, crashing like thunder one moment, coiling like a venomous serpent the next, gradually bending the duel to his will.
Clang! The claw smashed against Kishor’s axe, carving a jagged notch and hurling backward. He grunted, boots skidding, blood blossoming across his chest.
Alice leapt to cover him, but Drystan struck first, one savage kick to stomach sent crashing into Kishor’s arms.
“Two gnats dare bar my path?” He laughed, pivoting toward Jared. “Today you learn the cost of provoking the Celestial Palace!”
