At the tunnel entrance outside Nether City, Jared, Luther, Morvane, and one hundred Nether City Guards stood in a tight line beside the yawning tunnel mouth. No one spoke. Armor clicked, then settled into an expectant hush.
The Guards wore seamless black bone plates that swallowed the light. Each carried a bone-forged weapon whose dim glow pulsed like distant starlight. Every soldier had already reached High Immortal Realm Level Four or higher, and cold, murderous intent clung to them as naturally as breath.
Elder Gloam planted his white bone staff before the formation. Deep creases carved his aged face, yet his voice carried clear authority. “Young friend Jared, the future of Nether City rests with you… These elite guards will follow you to the surface and obey every order.”
Jared folded his arms across his chest and bowed. “Many thanks, Great Elder…” His words were steady, carrying both respect and promise. Straightening, he added, “I will not fail. I will drive the celestials from Epea and win justice for the Ghost Clan and the beast race.”
Resolve hardened every syllable.
“Good…” Elder Gloam’s reply cracked through the silence like a staff on stone. He leaned closer, his voice low yet firm. “Remember, if the task proves impossible, Nether City will always be your retreat.”
Jared turned to the gathered warriors, drew a deep breath that filled his lungs with chilly nether aura, and barked, “Move out!”
All one hundred and three figures blurred into swift black shadows, racing upward through the winding passage. The higher they climbed, the thinner the nether aura became. In its place rose clean, long-missed spiritual energy that tingled against their skin and armor.
A few guards shifted uneasily. Generations had lived beneath rock and bone; none had ever felt the caress of true sunlight. Excitement flickered in Morvane’s eyes. “Three thousand years… At last, the Ghost Clan returns to the surface…”
Jared understood their storm of hope and trepidation without needing words. Three millennia underground had pushed a once-glorious race toward the edge of legend, almost forgotten by the world above. Today, they would feel daylight again and announce the Ghost Clan’s return to the celestials.
Roughly half an hour later, a pale gleam shone ahead. Sunlight spilled through the distant opening, warm and brilliant against the tunnel’s gloom.
“It… It’s sunlight!” A young guard’s hand trembled as he stretched toward that golden beam, longing to touch what stories could never capture.
Morvane’s voice rang out across the awe. “Steady your hearts! The surface is different. Stay alert!”
At last, the party burst from the mouth of the tunnel and stood upon open ground. The sudden blaze forced every eye to narrow against its fierce brilliance. Jared coped easily, as he had been born beneath this sky, but the guards winced, overwhelmed by radiance they had never met.
Birdsong threaded through towering trees, and the fresh scents of grass and bloom filled the air. A light breeze rustled the leaves overhead, life humming in every whisper.
“So this… this is the surface world?” one guard breathed, wonder shaking his voice.
For three thousand years, tomes had tried to paint this realm, yet the living scene dwarfed every written line: blue sky, white clouds, emerald canopy, scarlet petals, soaring birds, and roaming beasts—treasures no cavern could offer.
Scanning the forest edge, Morvane’s expression tightened. “Form ranks! It may look calm, but celestials could be watching!”
The one hundred guards snapped into a protective formation, placing Jared and Luther at its heart. Jared released his divine sense. It swept across one hundred kilometers like an unseen tide. Moments later, his eyes opened. “Clear… No celestial signatures, no strong beasts nearby.”
He unrolled the map sketched back in Nether City and matched the ridges and rivers. “We’re on the eastern fringe of the Myriad Monster Mountain Range, about 2,000 kilometers from the beast race refuge.”
Luther asked, “Shall we head straight there?”
Jared nodded. “First, we find the beast remnants. Their knowledge of Epea will smooth every move.”
Morvane’s brow furrowed. “Old grudges lie between Ghost and beast… Will they…” His voice lowered, “Will the beast race…”
Jared said softly, “Rest easy. I am here. The beast race’s greatest enemy now is the celestials; they will know who their true friends are.”
Streams of light shot forward as the entire company sped toward the hidden refuge. Jared flew at the head, chaotic force roaring through his veins. Since breaking through to the High Immortal Realm, his sense of heaven and earth’s laws had sharpened more than tenfold. With each breath, spirit energy coursed inside him, resonating with his Chaos Genesis Seed.
“So this is High Immortal power…” he reflected, awe threaded through calm assessment. If the Heavenly Immortal Realm was only a glimpse through the gateway of the Grand Path, the High Immortal Realm was a true step into its grand hall. With a single motion, he could stir heaven and earth; the power gap was as vast as the sky to the soil. The 2,000-mile distance was now a matter of minutes.
Very soon, they arrived above an unremarkable mountain valley. The valley lay under a heavy shroud of fog. From the outside, it looked like any ordinary hollow, bare and unthreatening. Yet, as Jared paused at the mouth, the hairs on his arms lifted; behind that haze, a coiled ward waited, silent and strong.
Landing beside a lichen-spotted boulder, Jared pitched his voice into the mist. “Friends of the beast race, Jared Chance seeks an audience!”
The call rang against unseen stone before the fog drank it down. Nothing answered. The vale held its breath; even the breeze seemed unwilling to cross the boundary, leaving Jared and the guards behind him in a silence that thickened with every heartbeat.
Jared inhaled and tried again, this time invoking a familiar name. “I, Jared Chance, brother to King Ironhide, come to join you!”
His words carried farther, steadied by resolve. A faint tremor rippled through the fog, as though the valley finally stirred. Leaves whispered, stones clicked, and tension tightened across Jared’s shoulders. The vapor began to unclench, thin whorls peeling back until a narrow corridor showed itself, straight as a spear shaft and slick with damp stone.
Three beast-race officers strode out along the newborn path. Foremost walked the one-eyed wolf general Jared had met in Heavenly Beast Gorge, his scarred muzzle lifted in wary recognition, while the other two held a measured distance.
“M-Mr. Chance?” the wolf general stammered, disbelief cracking his gravelly voice. The shock dropped away almost at once. His single eye brightened, and his frame shook with barely checked excitement. “It really is you! You survived!”
His gaze slid past Jared to the armored phalanx behind him, and color drained from his muzzle. “Ghost Clan?! Mr. Chance, who are these people?!”
“They are friends,” Jared said, tipping his head toward the dark ranks. “Warriors of Nether City. They have come to help us stand against the celestials.”
