Mid-afternoon sun poured through sword-shaped lattice windows of Swordmaster City, casting slanted shards of light across the blue-gray flagstones.
Jared and Flaxseed sat in the room. bent over a broad map of the Darkwind Gorge. Around them lay fresh talisman papers, Flaxseed’s newest scouting charms, still humming with faint spiritual residue.
He tapped one sheet with a weathered fingertip. “That place drips with toxic miasma. My charms will carry us for only a short distance before we’re choking on the foulness.”
Their planning shattered beneath the shriek of splintering metal outside, followed by a chorus of shocked cries from the market yard.
Flaxseed shot upright, stuffed his talismans into his tunic, and barked, “D*mn it! Sounds like trouble worth watching!”
Jared was already at the threshold when five armored figures skimmed into view on flying swords.
The man at the forefront wore a gold cloak stitched with a snarling beast, and the sun glared off the sword-shaped brand at the center of his brow, Drystan Hexford, commander of the Celestial Palace’s Sixth Hall.
Behind him, four elite guards hefted halberds that dripped golden light. They were the Celestial Palace’s Golden Armor Guards.
“Jared!” Drystan’s shout cracked the air like thunder. The blast of power riding his voice slammed into the inn’s stone archway.
Crack!
The arch exploded into powdery debris, sending nearby cultivators scrambling for cover, none daring to intervene.
Jared stepped into the courtyard, gaze icy and unblinking. “And who exactly are you supposed to be?”
“I’m the commander of the Celestial Palace’s Sixth Hall.” The name slipped out in a tremor, brittle as cracked porcelain.
At once, every cultivator nearby edged farther from the stone pavilion, unwilling to share in whatever punishment might follow. They all understood what that silver-roofed power meant. Celestials were proud beyond reason, one misplaced breath could cost a life.
“Bloody lapdog of the Palace!” Flaxseed roared, fury rolling off his scar-pitted face.
He flicked three strips of talisman paper into the air.
They flashed gold, then burst into a trio of flame-winged ravens that shrieked toward Drystan.
“Jared, let me test him!”
“Flaxseed, don’t, your strength…” Jared began, but the older man was already charging ahead.
A low chuckle rippled through the dusk. Drystan lifted one hand. Five golden claw shadows tore across the sky, shredding the fire-ravens to drifting sparks.
“A wandering charm caster thinks can show off before me?” Drystan’s voice was silk laid over steel.
Drystan’s figure blurred-ghostlike, appeared above the stone pavilion in an instant. His Shackling Claw tore through the air with a piercing shriek, striking straight for Jared’s crown.
Jared refused to meet death standing still. Sparks flared beneath his boots as Blazing Stride carried backward, light as willow fluff on the wind. The Dragonslayer Sword flashed from his palm.
Metal screamed when blade and talon collided. A chill surged up Jared’s fingers, numbing his arm; the impact tossed into a stone pillar, ribs rattling. Blood rose up his throat, yet forced the blood down.
“Wandering Immortal, seventh tier? You’ve improved a touch, insect, but you are still an insect.” Drystan’s smile hinted at leisurely slaughter.
With a casual sweep of his left arm, four golden-armored guards stepped forward.
Long halberds crossed, weaving a net of gilded after-images that looked Jared and Flaxseed inside. Each guard stood at Earthly Immortal tier five, yet the battle formation dragged their aura halfway into tier six.
That holy energy sizzled against Flaxseed’s charms, nullifying many before they formed. No one doubted a branch hall of the Celestial Palace wielded terrifying might-and the Sixth Hall was no minor faction.
Jared’s mind raced. They could not win here. He reached for Flaxseed’s sleeve, intent on grabbing and fleeing while any gap remained. The next claw aura came on their very shadows, blood-red arcs knifing toward their spines.
