“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quentin stammered, teeth clicking. “Sidney… Cadence… They broke the Divine Oracle, descended without leave…”
His voice cracked, clinging to practiced lines. The air popped, sharp as splitting ice. Jared tapped Quentin’s shoulder with that glowing fingertip. Nothing burst, nothing splintered. Instead, flesh, bone, and robe browned, cracked, and sifted away until a fist-sized hollow gaped at the joint. It was as if that piece had never belonged to him.
“Argh!” The scream ripped from somewhere deeper than lungs. The sound carried the pitch of a soul being carved. The chaotic force gnawed at his life’s core; Jared felt its sour hum against his palm. Gray threads burrowed deeper, seeking the very spark that kept Quentin tethered to the chair.
“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” he howled. In the span of one breath, every wall inside him shattered. Tears, mucus, pleas—everything poured out. “Spare me, senior, spare me! I’ll say it all! Just stop, please, stop!”
Jared pulled his hand back. The gray creep halted at once. A neat cavity remained, edges dull and bloodless, mirror-smooth and gray.
“Speak…” Jared sat again, calm as before.
Quentin sucked in wheezing gulps, terror shining wet in his eyes. Words spilled in a rasping rush. “It was… the Manor Lord, Julian! A month and a half ago those two, Sidney and Cadence, slipped near the inner treasury. They tried to steal, or maybe scout, something vital. The wards caught a trace of their aura. They bolted, but a shred of it stayed behind. Julian himself followed that thread with a celestial gift and seized them alive.”
“And what were they after?” Jared pressed.
“I—I don’t know the object itself! When Julian summoned me later, his face was thunder. He said they’d glimpsed some grand secret about the celestials’ plan for the Azure Firmament, something that must never leak! They had to die at once—Soulfall Slope, full Soul-Refining Grand Array, no rebirth, no escape. He ordered me to oversee it and keep the crystals sealed for the celestials.”
Jared’s eyes narrowed. “What layout? What secret?”
“I truly don’t know any more!” Quentin sobbed. His lower lip quivered. Under the lamplight his cheeks sagged, making him look decades older. He croaked, “The Manor Lord never spelled it out. He said it’s top-level secrecy. Even he treads carefully and only obeys the Divine Oracle.” Quentin swallowed hard, shoulders trembling. “He put me in charge of the execution. I had to keep everything neat, and the Soul-Refining Crystals had to be stored safely, reinforced on schedule, until the celestial envoy came to take them…”
The tidbit hooked Jared’s attention, yanking him forward in his chair. “Take them? What do the celestials want with all these crystals?”
Behind him, Lyza’s breath hitched; Jared felt the small surge of cold air at his back. “Why would the celestials collect Soul-Refining Crystals on a schedule?”
The idea of a direct celestial hand shoved a chill through the room. Jared watched color drain from Lyza’s face. Whatever lay behind that order made Jared’s lieutenant wrap her own arms tight, as if winter had slipped in.
Quentin drew a shaky breath, eyes flicking from Jared to the stone floor. “I… I don’t really know. It’s part of the Oracle. All over the Azure Firmament Continent, whenever certain prisoners are executed, the Soul-Refining Grand Array is raised, crystals harvested, everything handed over together… The Morse couple’s crystal, label A11-73, sits… sits in the Profound Ice Chamber at the deepest point of the inner court’s secret vault… The Manor Lord sealed it himself; I can only inspect and reinforce, never remove it.”
Silence pulsed. Jared let the new pieces slide into place, one bleak click at a time. Divine chessboards, top-secret vaults, scheduled pick-ups—everything stank of blood and conspiracy… The Morse couple must have stumbled straight onto the board’s black center and paid for it with their souls…
Jared leaned forward, voice low enough to scrape the cell walls. “Where’s Julian now, and when will the next celestial envoy arrive?”
Quentin blinked, trying to focus through tears. “The Manor Lord… today he should be in the Hall of Infinity, either cultivating or handling paperwork… As for the envoy, the timing shifts, but usually once a year. They collect crystals, deliver new Oracle orders… Last visit was half a year ago, so… a few more months, I guess…”
Jared rose and paced the cramped interrogation chamber, his footfalls echoing against the flagstones. The knot was bigger, tighter than he’d expected. Direct celestial interest meant every move from now on would sit beneath a god’s magnifying glass, and Julian likely knew more than he’d shown.
Lyza’s voice drifted in, soft but strained. “Senior, what do we do now? Quentin’s gone; Julian will notice soon. When that happens…”
“He’s told us enough.” Jared let his gaze rest on Quentin, slumped and gray, then turned to the others. “As for Julian… He gave the order and holds the rest of the story. He’s our next target.”
Hearing this, Lyza’s shoulders jerked; Luther’s fingers tightened behind Jared’s chair. Striking at the Jade Immortal Manor Lord—an upper celestial-class cultivator backed by celestials—felt like tossing a torch into a powder room. It was insanity, plain and bright.
“M-Mr. Chance, Julian stands at upper-seventh tier, and the manor swarms with experts. We are no match.”
“Going after him head-on is suicide, Sir…”
“Senior, we should plan this carefully!”
No one in this room doubted Julian’s reputation; every servant in the city whispered about his temper. Jared’s mouth curved, calm and almost playful. “Relax… I’m not dumb enough to storm the manor gates. Lyza, didn’t you mention Julian has a daughter?”
Lyza nodded once. “Yes… Rania. She’s fifth tier, famed across Jade Immortal City. Julian takes great pride in her.” She confirmed again with a sharper nod.
