Silence swallowed the grand hall. Twelve Elders traded looks, each seeing the same mix of horror and dread reflected back.
A Lower Realm cultivator, new to the Fourteenth Firmament, had stormed a mountain guarded by more than fifty celestials under the Array’s boost. He demolished three altars, killed Venerable Goldcrown and dozens of guards, then walked away alive…
What kind of nerve did that take?! What kind of strength?! Dominic sank onto the golden throne once more, the earlier calm finally cracking into a shadowed scowl.
“Goldcrown… Served under me for three hundred years…” Dominic’s voice barely carried across the hall. His voice came low, unreadable. Goldcrown had been cautious, hardly a peak cultivator, yet never overstepped. Dominic had trusted him with the mountain. “Now he is dead. Three altars lie in ruins. Three centuries of effort erased in a single night…”
Elder Redflame leaned forward, urgency sharpening every word. “Hall Master, Jared has exposed his trail. Allow me to mobilize our forces at once. Seal the ten-thousand-mile radius around the Sacred Mountain and capture him, dead or alive!”
The white-haired elder hesitated. “Hall Master, if we move an army, the Celestial Basilica and the Celestial Palace will notice. They may seize the chance to make trouble…”
“Make trouble?! Hahaha!” Dominic’s laugh held no warmth. “The Sacred Mountain was attacked, altars shattered, and I, Hall Master of the Celestial Palace, should quake at the thought of chasing one assassin?!”
Hearing this, the white-haired elder fell silent.
Dominic drew a steadying breath. Cold air scraped down his throat, carrying the metallic sting of rage. The urge to lash out throbbed behind his eyes, yet he pinned it down until his shoulders settled.
“Pass on my decree!” he barked, the shout cracking across the hall like a whip.
“First!” His tone sharpened. “Mobilize every elite unit from the seven cities of the northern region. Elder Redflame will take command! From this moment, seal off a thirty-thousand-mile radius around the Sacred Mountain. Every traveler is to be searched. Jared is wounded and cannot have gone far. He is hiding close, nursing his injuries. Turn over every inch of ground until you drag him into the light!”
Elder Redflame bowed low, crimson sleeves sweeping the tiles. “Your will be done, Hall Master…”
“Second!” Dominic said, voice sinking like ice water. “The Grand Blood Sacrifice Array atop the Sacred Mountain must not falter!” His eyes glittered. “The three shattered altars will be rebuilt within three months. Take whatever materials and sacrificial stock you need from the other Sacred Mountain branches. If you lack hands, pull them from every division… I do not care how you manage it! In three months, all eight altars must be pulsing again!”
“This…” The white-haired elder’s protest snagged on his tongue. He forced the words out. “Hall Master, the materials are manageable, but the array needs immense stores of fresh blood essence and soul force. Gathering enough sacrifices in three months…”
Dominic’s stare sliced across him, cold and flat. A chill crawled down the elder’s spine. He lowered his head at once. “Understood…”
“Third!” Dominic’s voice turned dead calm. “Every branch of the Celestial Palace across the Fourteenth Firmament will place Jared at the highest level of pursuit. Offer a bounty of fifty thousand bottles of celestial elixir!” He spaced each word. “Fifty thousand bottles!”
A collective hiss escaped the gathered elders; several drew sharp breaths. The sum could tempt a High Immortal Realm Level Nine master and even lure roaming True Immortals hungry for fortune.
“In addition…” Dominic went on. “Spread the news that Jared carries the Golden Dragon Bloodline and wields chaotic force. We were cautious before, but he has handed us the perfect excuse.” A thin, icy smile tugged at his mouth. “With that reward and those secrets, I want to see how many in the Fourteenth Firmament will hunt him down…”
The elders bowed as one. “Yes, Hall Master…”
Elder Redflame turned, robes flaring, and strode from the hall to marshal the blockade. The white-haired elder hurried after, already tallying which altars could be stripped for parts. One by one the remaining elders gathered their scrolls and withdrew, unease nipping at their heels.
Silence settled. Only Dominic remained beneath the vaulted ceiling. He eased back onto the golden throne, shadows pooling across his stern face. Minutes stretched before he spoke again, his voice no louder than a breath.
“Jared… Jared Chance…” The name rolled off his tongue, slow and rancorous. He mouthed it like gristle that refused to tear apart. “I still underestimated you…” he admitted to the empty hall.
His fingers curled into a fist. Golden light seeped between knuckles, fleeting stars flaring and dying inside his palm. “Did you think shattering the Sacred Mountain altars could topple my design? Hehehe…” A low, scornful laugh slipped free.
“The Sacred Mountain is not alone,” he said. “Lord Mournwright is hardly my only piece.”
Dominic raised a hand and tapped the air. A golden talisman budded from his fingertip and streaked upward, punching through the domed roof in a trail of light. The sigil arrowed toward the deeper reaches of the Fourteenth Firmament, where another Sacred Mountain brooded.
