With a buoyant heart and a faint, sugary thrill, Rania left the Guest Reception Annex, her thoughts too full of Mr. Chance to wonder further about Quentin‘s hurried departure.
Meanwhile, deep within the Hall of Infinity, the air carried a very different charge. Black-jade floors, white-jade pillars, and a domed ceiling studded with night-luminous pearls cast a cold glow across the vast chamber.
On a broad throne carved from a single slab of star-iron sat Julian, garbed in a purple-gold dragon robe and jade crown, his steady gaze alight with restrained power. He sat tall on the star-iron throne.
The skin at his temples stayed smooth, yet the set of his square jaw warned of four decades spent fighting for power. With each slow blink, the faint reflection of shifting sun, moon, and distant stars seemed to glide across his dark eyes.
Breath slid from his chest like a tide drawn through deep caverns. The air around him thickened, folding throne, floor, and even the slabs beneath into one silent mass that rose and fell with his lungs. He, Lord of Jade Immortal Manor, held the lofty seventh rank among upper immortals. Power this high should have meant perfect control. At the moment, it did not feel that way.
A fresh Messaging Jade Slip dug into his palm. Its silver glow painted his knuckles while a chill, oily anger crept up his neck. The first characters burned behind his eyes.
“Turner brothers confirmed missing. No battle marks. No lingering force. Vanished.”
He read the line twice, hoping new meaning would appear. It did not. Another section followed: “Unknown individuals searching the city for Soulfall Slope incident and the brothers’ movements.” The tidy script made the warning feel colder.
The slip continued: “Linked with high-price inquiries at the Knowledge Pavilion. Likely targeted revenge or cover-up. Suspect: Expert level, excels at concealment and erasing traces.”
“Useless, all of you useless!” The shout cracked from Julian’s throat before he noticed he was standing. His voice pulsed through vaulted stone. “Two fourth-rank executioners disappear inside their own quarters, and no one hears so much as a sigh?!”
“If you cannot tell me how, why do you exist?!” Spittle flashed against torchlight as the words slammed out.
Below, elders of the Punishment Hall and captains of the Internal Guard pressed foreheads to marble. Damp patches spread between their shoulder blades.
“Search again!” Julian barked. “Widen the net. Every newcomer, every shadow of uncertain strength—sort them all! Double the men at Soulfall Slope. Raise the array to maximum alert. Without my seal, nothing living comes within a hundred miles!”
Orders rolled on, each colder than the last. “Fortify city walls. Shut every transit gate. Leave one emergency channel, under my hand only!”
“Yes, Manor Lord!” Fear pushed their reply into a single ragged chorus.
“Where is Quentin? Bring him to me!” The name of his trusted Grand Chamberlain surfaced like a blade.
A steward edged forward, voice nearly a whisper. “M-My Lord, Grand Chamberlain Fay… reported urgent private business last dusk. He registered a leave of several days. He is now outside the manor…”
“What?” The single word struck like falling stone. Julian’s brows knotted. “He left yesterday? Did he state the matter? Direction? Expected return?”
“He… He only said it was pressing. No details. Promised three to five days, half a month at most,” the steward managed. The man’s knees shook, but he forced the answer out all the same. Julian‘s scowl deepened until the skin between his brows ached.
“Quentin gone at this exact hour? Gone while we tightened nets and chased the Turner mystery?” Unease slithered over his heart, cold and scaled. “The Turner brothers are Quentin‘s blades for dirty work at Soulfall Slope… They vanished, and Quentin walked out the gate the same night?”
Too neat. Far too neat… Had misfortune seized Quentin as well? Or did he learn something, panic, and flee? Could the whole thing be a wider scheme aimed at Quentin, at Soulfall Slope, or at Julian himself? Thoughts slammed together, sparks flying in the dark of his mind. Caution had carried Julian to the Manor Lord’s seat, and ruthlessness kept him ruling all of Jade Immortal City.
“Issue new orders…” His voice returned, soft yet glacial. “From this moment the manor stands at highest alert. Outward calm, inward steel! All gates tighten screening. No stranger sets foot inside without my seal or Elder Council countersign!”
“Guests now lodged in the Guest Reception Annex, verify every background. Full surveillance! Track Quentin’s trail outside the walls. Alive or dead, I want him found!”
“One more thing…” He paused; light in his eyes sharpened to frost. “Inform my daughter… She remains at home. She will not roam, and she will not escort outsiders into restricted zones without my approval!”
“Understood!” The officials bowed hard, shoes scraping stone as they scattered to obey.
Julian paused, ice flickering in his eyes. “Tell Rania to remain at home for the next few days. Without my leave she is not to roam, much less bring any outsider into the inner court restricted zone!”
“Yes, sir!” they answered in unison, stiff with resolve, and hurried off to carry out the order.
The grand hall fell silent, leaving only Julian behind. He pushed himself upright from the throne. The star-iron surface stayed cold against his palms a breath longer than he liked. He paced to the arched window and clasped his hands behind him. Below, the vast courtyards of Jade Immortal Manor bristled with torchlight and pike tips, circles of guards overlapping like armored gears.
“Whoever you are…” he muttered, voice almost lost in the hush of the hall, “You dare stir trouble in my manor, steal my people, covet my secrets…”
The words cut off on a thin hiss. Julian’s eyes narrowed to a blade. “I will see to it you walk in, and never walk out.”
Each syllable landed heavy, final. A tremor of misgiving slipped after the anger, as though the order had left his mouth a heartbeat too slow. He pictured Rania’s bright face, that stubborn tilt of her chin. She doted on curiosities more than rules. He might have trusted her obedience a shade too much.
