“He not only survived the marked aura-he used it to break through. Such perception and will are terrifying,” Lyra murmured, bright wonder gleaming in eyes.
‘The Sword Sect just found itself a treasure,” Corin exhaled, a pleased smile softening his stern features. Stillness returned as Jared lowered the sword and stood upright, breath steady, shoulders loose.
At that moment, his aura felt several times greater, black energy curling around him, yet his eyes stayed bright and lucid, no hint of the madness that often stalked those who had gone off the deep end.
He flexed his fingers, marveling at how spiritual energy and marked aura fused as one, each casual movement edged with cutting intent.
Nearby, the ancient stone stele ignited again, archaic characters rippled across its face, faster and brighter, as though the monument itself applauded his insight. As the marked aura settled, the sword domain shield that sealed the grave began to thin, its edges fraying like frost under sunrise.
Jared tightened the leather strap around the scabbard slung across his back, then lifted his gaze to Corin. “Master Morden, the hour has come. We ought to leave for Darkwind Gorge now…”
Corin answered with a slow, deliberate nod, the gray at his temples gleaming in the lamplight. “Okay… You now stand at Wandering immortal Realm Level Nine. With the swordmaster’s legacy coursing through you. even an Earthly immortal Realm Level Eight should fail beneath your blade.”
Flaxseed rubbed his palms together, unable to mask the thrill shivering through his wiry frame. “Jared, you’ve broken through at last! At long last, we can make Malevolent Path Hall pay. This time, we will drag the Flaxseed clan’s divine souls!”
Flaxseed understood one simple truth-the stronger Jared became, the brighter the hope that the Flaxseed clan’s divine souls would one day know freedom.
Corin lifted a hand, urging caution. “Your power is impressive, yes, but I still believe you should shut yourself away for a time and cultivate it further. Although you’re at Wandering Immortal Realm Level Nine, against Malevolent Path Hall, it’s still like kicking against the pricks.”
Jared opened his mouth, voice hesitant. “Master Morden, I…”
Corin waved the protest aside before it formed. “Stop calling me that. In raw strength, you’ve already surpassed me. Titles matter less than the path you now walk.”
It was not that Corin lacked the desire to accept Jared as a disciple. Rather, Jared’s meteoric rise felt closer to a comet hurtling skyward, far beyond the reach of any earthly mentor.
In the span of mere months, Jared’s cultivation had soared as though strapped to a rocket.
“My sword intent owes much to your teaching,” Jared said, voice steady despite the reverence in his eyes. “Calling you Master Morden will always feel right. Besides, we go to Darkwind Gorge only to scout. I expect no real danger.”
Corin considered the words, teeth worrying his lower lip. At last, ..com exhaled and nodded once. “Very well… I’ll accompany you.”
He turned to Lyra, the snow-robed disciple hovering nearby. “Lyra, lead your fellow apprentices back to Swordmaster City. Stay inside its walls. The people of Sacred Sword Manor will not give up easily.”
With that, Corin fell in beside Jared and Fiaxseed, and the three figures slipped beyond the city gates, traveling west toward Darkwind Gorge.
***
Darkwind Gorge was a branch stronghold of Malevolent Path Hall.
Inside a cavernous, ice-cold hall, a black-robed elderly man sat cross-legged before an altar. Dozens of onyx urns lined the slab, each brimming with a murky light in which condemned souls writhed and clawed in endless torment.
The black-robed elderly man’s crimson eyes snapped open, a razor-thin smile curving across his gaunt face. “So, Jared… You finally approach. I have waited a very, very long time…”
All year round, Darkwind Gorge lay smothered beneath a veil of marked aura. Demon beasts ran wild among its cliffs, and sinister formations lay hidden beneath every root and stone, enough to turn most cultivators aside before they dared the inner peaks.
Moving with painstaking care, Jared, Corln, and Fiaxseed threaded through twisted pines.
At each abrupt bend, Fiaxseed released a Navigation Charm or a Purification Charm, the slips of paper burning blue as they pushed the marked aura back a few vital yards.
Flaxseed’s brow knitted as the marked aura thickened.
“This marked aura is heavier than I feared,” muttered. “My Purification Charms can shelter a circle no wider than ten feet. Any deeper, and we’ll be walking blind…”
Corin’s tone grew grave. “The branch of Malevolent Path Hall must lie at the range’s heart, where the marked aura is strongest. Every step nearer will demand perfect caution-one error, and we drown in poison or runes alike.”
Jared nodded and used his Focus Technique, drawing faint tendrils of marked aura into his pores. Each breath thinned the air around them, while Flaxseed’s Purification Charms formed a second, flickering shield.
Jared could not hope to cleanse the entire range-such refinement needed time, something didn’t have.
Somewhere ahead, the divine souls of Flaxseed’s family members awaited either salvation or oblivion, and no one could say how long those divine souls might last.
