“Enter…” The single word slid beyond the bronze doors. The doors parted. Lester stepped beneath the vaulted ceiling, the flames in the wall sconces bowing as though greeting their sovereign.
Drystan crooked a finger. Lester tossed the gleaming short blade through the gloom. Drystan caught it, stared at the short blade, not wanting to let it go.
“Very well, I will aid you. Yet Jared keeps capable fighters close. You would be wise to gather more allies before the strike,” Drystan said.
“My thanks, Mr. Hexford. I will find more help at once.” Lester bowed so low his hair brushed the ground. Drystan answered with a single approving hum, then waved his hand.
Moments later, three cultivators wearing crimson armor showed up. The leader’s face was expressionless, his aura already pressing at the threshold of the ninth level of the Earthly Immortal Realm, no weaker than Ararat himself.
“Enaricus has sent these celestial Blood Guards to serve you,” Drystan declared. “With their help, Jared Chance will not escape death.”
Lester’s chest swelled. Three warriors at his side meant the specter of Ararat no longer haunted his plans. With such power behind him, the mere thought of confronting Ararat stirred excitement rather than dread.
The Blood Guard commander‘s voice rang like iron striking an anvil.
“Follow our lead. Act without permission, and you die first.”
Lester hurried after him, feeling the boulder that had been grinding against his heart finally slide away into silence.
With the Sixth Hall’s assistance, Lester believed that even Ararat could not save Jared from the grave now prepared. Even so, caution whispered. After posting the three Blood Guards at Sacred Sword Manor, headed to Darkwind Gorge without delay.
He had discovered the branch of Malevolent Path Hall, which Jared was also searching for, since Jared had caused a scene in Whispers Tower.
The whole of Swordmaster City knew about it. If Lester could get Malevolent Path Hall’s support, would be invincible.
***
Deep in a miasma-choked ravine, an altar of interlocked skulls gleamed beneath a dying sun.
At its peak sat Dioz Underwood, night-black vapors circling him. His hollow figure had become more solid. He had used Malevolent Path Hall’s secret technique to recover. He had regained his physical body.
“Grand Elder Dioz, Lester Windham of Sacred Sword Manor seeks an audience…” A blue-skinned, tusked sentry bowed low.
“Send in…” Dioz’s eyes snapped open, shards of winter light slicing through the gloom. Lester stepped onto the altar and felt a shiver rip down his spine.
Flayed bones hung like grisly banners, the air thick with metallic rot. Compared with the Holy Light Sect’s painted radiance, this was unmasked hell.
“Mr. Underwood, it has been far too long…” Forcing a polite smile, Lester bowed in salute, smothering the revulsion that clawed at his throat.
Dioz rose, testing the newborn body beneath his robes-each joint popping like kindling. “Your visit honors this forsaken hall, Mr. Lester. What brings you to my place?”
“I come with a partnership in mind,” Lester said, voice steady. “There is a man we both detest. Together, we can erase him.”
“Name him…”
“Jared Chance.”
Dioz’s fist snapped shut, black energy boiling over his knuckles. “The bastard who shattered my body!”
Footsteps echoed beyond the skulls. Varek Underwood emerged with his daughter Lunaria, their faces carved from equal parts grief and rage.
Since their hasty flight, they had nested beneath Dioz’s roof, nursing unhealed wounds.
“Uncle Dioz, Jared razed our sect, and that vile Flaxseed assaulted me!” Lunaria spat, voice trembling with anger.
For endless nights, had dreamed of killing Jared and Flaxseed, but Dioz had not recovered his physical body, so waited.
Varek’s calloused palm drifted across his daughter’s hair, gentle, aching, protective. He said, “Dioz, we have to hunt Jared down and finish him! No matter the cost!”
Dioz dipped his chin once, eyes sharpening. He pivoted toward Lester and asked, “Mr. Lester, what kind of alliance did you have in mind?”
“The Celestial Palace’s Sixth Hall already offers help. If the Malevolent Path Hall lends its blade as well, Jared Chance won’t escape. When his corpse cools, your hall may claim first pick of every treasure carried.”
Greed flickered across Dioz’s face, a hungry spark lighting the darkness in his pupils. “You swear that is true?”
“I do not lie,” Lester vowed, the words striking the altar like iron nails. From the altar’s depths, a whisper slithered out. “If Jared is under Ararat’s protection, how could I possibly stay away?”
